by Jani Kay
"Samantha has nothing to do with this. And don’t flatter yourself. I'm not inviting you as a date."
Ouch; that stung. He rose from his chair and stood in front of the large window with his back to me, tucking both hands into his pants pockets and staring out for a long moment.
He turned to face me, a solemn look on his face. "If you want an education in business and how it really operates, you should accept every social invitation you possibly can. That’s where the real bonding happens, and where the most lucrative deals are born." He closed the distance between us and came to stand beside my desk. His nearness disturbed my concentration, so I stopped handling the papers and straightened my back, tilting my head to focus on his deep voice. The weight with which he was imparting this information surprised me.
"Rich people want to know who’s managing their money—they like to get a feel for your strengths and weaknesses before they hand over their fortune to you for investing. And there’s nowhere better to find this information than at parties, where alcohol, drugs and sex are freely available. They will scrutinize your every action and judge you on your behavior."
I chewed on my bottom lip as I soaked up this information. "I guess you have a point."
As a student, I’d lived a pretty boring life. I’d studied hard, while also juggling two part-time jobs to help pay the bills. Partying was the furthest thing from my mind. It seemed frivolous and time consuming. I'd never considered that it could actually be useful. Trust this man to teach me that.
"You bet I do." A small smile twisted at the corners of his mouth. "How do you think I got to where I am today without an Ivy League education? Through working the crowd at social functions, my dear. By staying one step ahead of everyone else, and using my brain." He tapped the side of his head. "It's not only them judging me . . . I choose my clients wisely. I can distinguish between those who have the balls for high-risk investments, and those who’d jump from the top of a building if they lost a few hundred thousand dollars in a downward spiral. It pays to observe people, Miss Bennett, and there’s nowhere better to do that than in a social setting."
As reluctant as I was to admit it, I could totally understand his strategy. It was smart and prudent. While people let their guard down, partying hard, Tyler Sinclair was discreetly analyzing the crowd for potential clients.
"So, what I'm really offering you tonight is a chance to see into a world I doubt you know exists. Where the excesses of the rich and famous are on display, and people try to outperform one another. It's a game, Miss Bennett and it's called The Survival of the Fittest. He who can outsmart his competitor is the winner."
"Or she," I butted in, excited by the prospect of being drawn into this new world. He made it sound thrilling. Daring. I was hooked.
He smiled, giving me a knowing look that made my toes curl. "Learning by experience trumps textbook knowledge every time, Miss Bennett. You can have all the degrees in the world, and still be dumb as fuck when it comes to reading people. Let me teach you the art of choosing clients wisely."
My heart pounded. I was eager to explore where I'd never gone before. Something about the way he pitched this had me looking forward to learning more in a way I never would’ve believed possible.
"You appear excited by the idea." He tilted his head and smiled, seemingly pleased by my reaction.
I nodded, a little breathless by the way he beamed at me. He’d struck a chord—I loved new experiences that broadened my horizons. And if I could observe the master himself at work, I’d be in heaven. I blinked up at him. "Yes, I am. You make it sound so . . . intriguing."
This time, the smile reached his eyes, forming small creases at the corners. "Wear something sexy. Make the most of your cleavage. And it wouldn’t hurt to show some leg as well." He winked at me while grinning from ear to ear. Damn, I liked playful Tyler Sinclair. He was sexy as hell, and I totally got why all the females in the firm swooned over him and wished they could date him.
His earlier words ran through my head. "It's not a date. Don’t flatter yourself."
It's just business. Smart business.
"I . . . um . . ." How could I explain that I didn’t possess such an item in my wardrobe and that I didn’t exactly have the funds to purchase something new? Besides, I didn’t have the time to go shopping even if I did have the money.
One eyebrow shot up at my hesitation. "Miss Bennett, is there a problem?"
On the verge of lying to him, I thought better of it and decided to be honest and come clean. "Yes, actually, there is." I lowered my eyes as embarrassment washed over me. My skin felt hot and damp and my stomach dropped. "I don’t have anything appropriate in my wardrobe. I like to travel light, and I didn’t expect to need a cocktail dress in my first week of employment."
He let out a long breath. "If that’s your only problem, it's not a problem at all." He wasn’t making sense. It was a huge freaking problem to me. A completely insurmountable one. Even if Cassidy had brought such a dress, there was no way I'd risk borrowing another item of clothing from her after the coffee fiasco with her white blouse. Besides, her dress most likely would be all wrong on me.
Moving back to his desk, Mr. Sinclair opened the drawer and pulled something from it, then walked back to where I stood, cringing.
"We have backup for such an event. Use this credit card to get something nice. Try Fifth Avenue . . . and it's okay if you leave at three this afternoon." He smiled as he held the plastic card out to me. "Get shoes, and all the matching stuff women need, too."
I sucked in a breath. "I couldn’t possibly do that." I shook my head in disbelief. I’d never used a credit card in my life. If Mum and I didn’t have the cash, we simply didn’t buy it. Although we didn’t have much, everything we owned was debt-free. Mum didn’t believe in adding extra stress to our lives by racking up huge debt with exorbitant interest rates that were a noose around her neck. If we really wanted something, we’d work extra shifts and save till we could afford it.
"This card is here for a reason. To be put to good use. Take it," he commanded.
"I can’t—"
He took my hand in his and unfolded my fingers before laying the plastic card in my palm. "It's easier than you think. You don’t want to piss Williams off, and if he finds out you’re an employee and not suitably dressed, some heads will be rolling—possibly even mine." He was still holding my hand in his, so I felt the shiver that ran through him.
Was Tyler Sinclair afraid of losing his job? Or maybe he feared Williams’ wrath?
"Well . . . if you’re absolutely sure? I’ll repay it when I get my first paycheck," I said, grateful for a way out of my predicament.
"Don’t be ridiculous. Once you see their mansion and the excess his wife and daughter are accustomed to, you’ll realize it’s small change to the company. And it will be money well-spent. It's all about image at McAdams and Williams—no expense is spared to impress clients."
I closed my fingers over the card and pulled my hand away.
What the hell had I agreed to? Was I going to stand out—not in a good way—and make a fool of myself? I'd be out of my depth moving in the circles of the ultra rich. I could only hope I wouldn’t choke and die a slow death.
Tyler looked at his watch. "It's nearly three thirty. I think I can let you go an extra thirty minutes earlier."
My eyes widened. "What about the—"
"Get out of here before I change my mind. And be ready when I get there to pick you up." His voice was husky, as if he didn’t want me to leave. Perplexed, I stared at him for a moment before I remembered my manners.
"Thanks for coming to my rescue. I see I have a lot more to learn than the obvious."
He grinned down at me. "Those, Miss Bennett, are the truest words you have spoken. You don’t even know what you don’t know. And I look forward to showing you . . . everything."
The heat in his gaze and the way he said it gave me the distinct impression he wasn’t referring to work only. But what the
hell did I know? I was only the very green and inexperienced intern. It seemed my training had a long way to go. Luckily, my mind was sharp, and I was a fast learner.
I grabbed my purse before he actually did change his mind and made my way to the door, the plastic card safely tucked in my pocket. As I turned the doorknob, I heard him clear his throat behind me.
"One last thing. Tonight, everything changes. Your training takes on a completely new level."
I gaped at him, but he’d already turned his attention to the phone that had started ringing. I would have loved to ask him what he meant by that.
DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY
12 - Brooklyn
Damn, I was in trouble. I didn’t know anything about dressing up for formal occasions. If I’d attended them, it was as a waitress to earn extra money, not as a guest. I had no idea how it’d feel to be on the other side.
Cassidy—she’d know. That bitch had a black belt in shopping. I dialed her number. She picked up within two rings.
"Hey honey, what’s up?" she greeted me in her usual cheery voice.
"Hey Cass. Listen, if ever I needed your mad skills, it's today. Can you come up to Fifth Avenue in the next hour and help me buy a dress for a thing I need to go to tonight?"
"What thing? I need specifics, hon. And of course I’ll come—I changed my nail polish for the third time this week because I’m bored here without you."
Shopping was my best friend’s forte. She needed to find a damn job, and soon, but today I was grateful that she was available.
I laughed. "Meet me in front of Tiffany’s in an hour? I've just left the office. I’ll fill you in when we meet. I need to look hot, Cass. I'm hoping you can help me achieve that in a few hours." If anyone could pull off a makeover, it was Cassidy.
"It helps that I have a smoking blank canvas to work with. But who’s paying for this? We don’t have the money."
As if I needed a reminder. "Get your ass down here. I have a company credit card to melt."
She sucked in a breath, and then giggled. Oh Lord—here comes more trouble. This woman could write a book titled Shopping 101.
Tyler Sinclair didn’t know it, but he’d made one of my dreams come true. Already, I liked him a tiny bit more.
Cassidy was five minutes early, all dressed to the nines herself. I cocked an eyebrow at her, grimacing. Was she trying to make me look bad in my department-store outfit?
"Hey, hon, you look nice," I greeted her with a smile. "Ready?"
"Let's get a coffee first, so we can go over our game plan. The reason I dressed up in designer-ware was to show the shopping assistants that we’re serious customers, not window shoppers. That way they’ll treat us with respect and not go all Pretty Woman on us."
She was a smart cookie. I laughed at her logic, admitting that it made perfect sense. We went to the closest Starbucks and ordered our skinny lattes. Minutes later, we were sitting across from one another and I told her all about the party. She frowned when I told her emphatically that it wasn’t a date.
"He’ll change his mind when he picks you up tonight and sees what I’ve done with you. He’ll be fighting off other guys, and be proud to introduce you as his date." She grinned, confident that she’d help me pull it off.
"I have my doubts—clothing alone doesn’t make a person. What if they see right through me?" Panic pushed up my chest, heating my body from the inside.
Cass nodded. "Exactly, darling. It’s what’s inside that counts. And you have what it takes, babe. You’re sexy and smart. You have sass in spades. Don’t doubt yourself, okay?"
Tears welled up behind my eyelids and my throat thickened, so I only managed a nod.
She handed me a tube of lipstick. It was her favorite high-end brand, and I knew she’d have to use it sparingly for it to last until she could afford another one. I blinked a few times as I took it from her. A wide grin spread over her face. "Apply this red lipstick, and twist your hair up into a bun. When we walk into a store, you’ve got to behave as if you own that shit. Got it?"
Holy hell. Good thing I asked her along. The snooty type of shop assistant would’ve given me one look and probably ignored me, even though I had money to burn. I had a lot to learn from Cassidy on how to act as if I'd grown up with money. Maybe some of her natural charm could rub off on me too.
I did as she instructed. She slipped off her Louboutins and handed them to me. "Wear these. When they see the red soles, they won’t even look at the rest of your outfit. You’ll pass their test."
I could have hugged her right there if I wasn’t so flustered. We exchanged shoes. Hers were slightly loose on my foot, but I could work it. God, I loved this woman. How many other people would do this for me?
"I'm ready when you are," I said, emulating her confidence, even though I didn’t feel it. Fake it till you make it. Mum had always drummed that idea into me, and today I was putting the theory to the test.
Two and a half hours later and with shopping bags from the big-name stores in my sweaty palms, I smiled as Cassidy hailed a taxi. "There’s no way in hell we’re catching public transport with all these bags. Taxis take credit cards too." She winked at me. She was right—after the amount of money we’d spent in a mere few hours, another fifty dollars was hardly going to matter.
Sitting in the back of the taxi, I felt sick to the stomach as I went through the receipts. Good Lord, a month’s wage on one dress, shoes and a handbag, made my head spin. But Cass had assured me it was completely normal, and pointed out that we’d saved the firm money by choosing a clutch purse from last season’s collection that was marked down.
I couldn’t help laughing at her reasoning. If only I could be more like her—have her breeding and class. Some sort of pedigree. I'd never been ashamed of how I’d been raised, but this experience had opened my eyes to a whole new world. One I'd hardly been aware of until today.
"As soon as we get to the apartment, I'm going to give you a facial and do your hair. Mr. Debonair won’t believe his fucking eyes." She grinned from ear to ear, her eyes glimmering.
I looked at my watch. "We only have an hour and a half, and I still need to shower."
"That’s plenty of time. You can relax with a glass of wine while I do the work. Mother always says it's important to be well rested before facing people at a party—and she should know. She’s the queen of her social circle in Sydney." Cassidy frowned. "I never thought the stuff she taught me would be useful some day. Shows how little we know sometimes."
"Alright . . . I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing. And I promise to look after the diamond jewelry you’re lending me." I crushed her hand in mine. "Honey, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years. Thanks for everything—especially for believing in me. It really means a lot."
It was her turn to blink fast and pretend she had something in her eye.
DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY
13 - Tyler
Hoping like hell that Miss Bennett had got it right and that she wouldn’t disgrace me tonight, I chewed the inside of my cheek as I drove to the address she’d scribbled on a piece of paper. I should’ve asked Ms. Oakes, or someone familiar with New York and the social standards of high society to accompany her shopping. The joke would be on me if she melted the credit card yet was still dressed inappropriately.
What if she looked fucking awful? Dressed all wrong for the occasion? I'd only seen her in conservative office-wear—nothing flash or exciting, except for the tightness of her pencil skirts that accentuated her perky ass. And when I’d suggested she dress sexy, I didn’t mean trashy. And fuck, I hoped she hadn’t gone overboard with the makeup, either—it made women look slutty, in my opinion.
Following the GPS, I drove further out of the city until the traffic thinned. I looked at my watch. I'd know in ten minutes if I were going to cringe and wish I'd never asked her or whether I’d be pleasantly surprised. I hoped for the latter because I was looking forward to spending an evening with Brooklyn Bennett
outside the office. I had a feeling there was a lot to her that I’d only scratched the surface of.
If the somewhat dorky and overachieving intern turned out to be a disappointment I’d send her home early in a taxi and work my way around the other guests. There was bound to be several new clients to charm and at least one beautiful woman who met my standards.
Humming to the tune playing on the stereo of my red Lamborghini, I sat waiting at a traffic light, thrumming my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music as I considered my other options.
These events weren’t without pitfalls—there were some women who were just a pain in the ass. Two in particular. Although I steered clear of attached women, Mrs. Williams was as keen as a horny virgin waiting to get her cherry popped and I knew she’d be chasing after me most of the evening as she’d done every other time I’d been around her. Dodging her was hard work. I didn’t want to piss her off, because she’d been one of my biggest admirers and I was aware that staying on her good side was important to my career advancement. Who you knew and who you screwed was the ‘secret’ to getting ahead in this business.
I sighed heavily. Mrs. Williams placed me in a precarious position. If I gave her what she wanted and screwed her to get to the top and my boss found out, I was dead. Career terminated. But, if I didn’t fuck her, she’d get pissed and possibly move on, championing some horny wannabe and helping him up the golden ladder of success.
Lately she’d been more obvious in her flirting, insinuating that she was waiting for her reward for putting in a good word to her husband to help me move up to the new office after her father, senior partner McAdams, keeled over from a heart attack a month ago. "New blood" she’d said, would help transform the stale image of the firm. And since she’d inherited her old man’s shares in the company, she could outvote her husband in a board meeting anyway.
