Accidental Triplets - A Secret Babies for the Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 4)

by Layla Valentine

  “I assure you that this is no joke,” he said. “Hold on.”

  Moments later, a picture text beeped its arrival. I opened it up and, sure enough, it was the Cole logo above a long desk in a very, very elegant-looking office.

  “Now, unless you think your friends were dedicated enough to the prank to send someone to the lobby of Cole's office downtown, then I hope that'll be proof enough.”

  I stared at the picture with a slacked jaw.

  “Um, okay. You're the real deal. You're the real. Deal.”

  “The real deal.”

  “Hold on one second, please.”

  “Sure.”

  I muted the call for a second and did a frantic happy dance where I stood.

  “Yes!” I shouted, then un-muted myself. “Please continue,” I said to Travis.

  “I see that you're in San Bravado, right?” he asked.

  “That's right. About ten minutes from downtown.”

  “Perfect. Let's have you come down tomorrow at eight thirty. We can take you through the legal stuff and have you ready to meet Mr. Cole. He's very eager to get to know you.”

  It still all sounded like something from a dream, like one of my mid-work fantasies. But it was all real.

  “That sounds great,” I said. “I just need to get some shifts moved around at work and I'll be set.”

  “Perfect,” said Travis. “See you tomorrow. And be ready—you've got plenty of work ahead of you.”

  With that, the line went dead.

  I carefully set down the phone and walked to my window. I looked out, and took in the sight of the sun shining over San Bravado.

  My moment had finally arrived. It was time to get started.

  Chapter 6

  Cassidy

  I stood in awe in front of the Cole Apparel headquarters. Located in the chic design district of downtown, the building was a monument to tasteful elegance. Made of glass and steel, it stood at least two dozen stories tall and looked less like a building and more like a beautiful, crystalline sculpture. But it was far from just for show. Impeccably dressed people zipped in and out, some heading towards luxury cars parked along the road, some stopping for coffee at any one of the many trendy shops along the boulevard.

  I felt right away like I didn't fit in.

  I rushed to one of the benches near the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard and began rifling through my bag, pulling out my portfolio. Last night had been spent going over my work again and again, practicing my pitch and my introduction to Mr. Cole.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cole. I'm a big fan of your work,” I said quietly to myself, the words sounding boring and corny after rehearsing them so many freaking times.

  Shaking my head, I flipped through the designs I'd submitted. In the cold light of day, they all seemed so simple and amateurish, and I began to feel certain that there'd been some mistake, that my name had gotten accidentally switched with that of some more talented designer, one that knew what the hell she was doing.

  Cut it out with the imposter syndrome crap, I thought to myself. You're here for a reason.

  I took a deep breath, letting my lungs fill with air. My reflection was visible in a nearby piece of sculpture art, and I took one final look at myself. Trying to pick out just what to wear had taken nearly as much time as rehearsing my introduction, and my outfit was at least one thing that I was confident about. I was dressed in a dark blue pencil skirt and a simple white blouse accented with a ruby-red silk scarf, the look finished with a pair of pumps of the same color.

  Oh God, I thought. I'm too matchy-matchy. He's gonna notice right away. Maybe it's not too late, maybe I can—

  A beep sounded from my phone. I pulled it out and saw an alarm that I'd set for myself, titled, “If you're reading this, you're running late!”

  “Oh, shit!” I said aloud, attracting the attention whoever happened to be around me.

  I scooped up my belongings and rushed up to the large front doors of the headquarters. A security agent wearing a crisp, all-black suit and a pair of dark aviator sunglasses pulled the doors open for me and I hurried inside.

  However nice the building was on the outside, on the inside, it was even more breathtaking. Sunlight poured in through the glass walls and a large, curving desk was dead-ahead, staffed by a handful of too-fashionable people, with “COLE” written above them in bold, clear letters, as if anyone was still under some other impression of just who ran this place.

  I stood in the middle of the lobby looking around, the place seeming like some sort of futuristic museum. My hand shot to my mouth as I checked to make sure my jaw wasn't hanging slack.

  “Miss May?”

  A light, lilting voice that struck me as somewhat familiar spoke from behind me and I whipped around on my heels. About ten feet away stood a small, trim man with a boyishly handsome face and dark hair. He was dressed in a stylish, pinstriped suit with a carnation tucked into his front pocket, his hands clasped in front of him and a warm smile on his face.

  “Oh, hi!” I shot out. “That's me!”

  The man walked over to me with quick steps and stuck out his hand.

  “Travis Wise,” he said, giving my hand a light shake. “We spoke on the phone.”

  I realized then why his voice sounded so familiar.

  “Cassidy May,” I replied. “But…how did you know who I was, if you don't mind me asking?”

  “Very nice to meet you,” he said. “And, um, no offense, but it's pretty clear that you're new to the building.”

  It hit me just how obviously new I must've looked, spinning around with my eyes as wide as saucers, standing in the middle of the lobby.

  “Oh, ha!” I said, a little bit of nervous laughter slipping out. “It's just…this place is beautiful.”

  “Mr. Cole worked with the architects to make sure everything in the building looked exactly how he wanted it to. I like to think it's a reflection of the type of man he is: impressive, a little intimidating, but extremely inspiring.”

  I took another look around the place and realized that those the exact words I'd use to describe the building.

  “Anyway,” he said, turning towards the elevators. “Let's get you upstairs. We have a lot of work to do. Well, you have a lot of work to do, to be more precise.”

  We arrived at a bank of stainless steel and glass elevators and took a quick ride up to the tenth floor. As soon as the doors opened, I was struck by the bustle of activity. Attractive, well-dressed employees darted here and there among heaps of design supplies. Fabric was unspooled all around me, mock-up designs hung from forms, and the animated chatter of dozens of people hard at work filled the air. I felt totally overwhelmed, right from the start.

  “This is one of our ateliers, if you hadn't already figured that out,” said Travis.

  Travis said hellos here and there to designers as we walked further into the space.

  “It's really busy. I already feel like I'm in the way,” I said.

  “That's totally normal. Our designers are…focused, to say the least. But once you find your groove, you'll fit right it. It's kind of a controlled chaos here.”

  “Find my groove?” I asked. “Am I going to be working here?”

  I wasn't sure what I was expecting, exactly, but being thrown right onto the design floor wasn't it. Right into the deep end, I suppose.

  “Mr. Cole wants to see what you're capable of making, given a day to prepare and with access to our resources. You have experience with hands-on design, I assume?”

  “I do,” I said.

  “Good. What we're going to have you do is make something from your portfolio that you can show to Mr. Cole at the end of the day. You'll have a few interns to help you out, so don't get too worried. Then, when it's ready, you'll do a little show for the boss.”

  “A show?”

  Travis's face lit up. I could tell he was more than a little excited about this particular detail.

  “That's right,” he said.
“We have a runway next to Mr. Cole's office. You'll grab a model one you're done and put on a little five-minute show. And you can use lights, fog machines, music—whatever you want. You're going to have so much fun.”

  At that moment, I felt more overwhelmed than anything. But complete creative freedom did sound nice.

  “You have a design in mind?” he asked.

  “Um, yes. I think I do.”

  I pulled my tablet out of my bag and brought up my designs, stopping on an evening gown that I'd sketched out a few weeks ago, one that wasn't part of the collection I'd sent into the competition.

  “Ooh,” said Travis, sidling up to me, the smell of his cologne rushing up my nose. “That looks gorgeous.”

  “It's something new,” I said. “My take on an elegant medieval gown, with fake fur to boot. I was a total fantasy nerd when I was a kid, and it sort of stuck in my head, I guess.”

  “It's gorgeous,” said Travis, snatching the tablet from my hands and expanding the picture. “And this is all cruelty-free?”

  “Of course,” I said as Travis zoomed in and turned the design on the tablet. “I was so happy to hear that Mr. Cole was going cruelty-free for the new line. I'm a total animal lover, but all I can really do is volunteer at my local shelter. Someone like Mr. Cole…well, he's got the power to really make a difference, if he wanted to.”

  “And he does,” said Travis, his eyes still fixed on the tablet. “I think he's a little bit of an idealist, but that's just who he is; once he gets an idea in his head, he goes for it.”

  “Speaking of which…am I going to be meeting him?”

  “You will when your design is ready. Four o'clock sharp. So, let me introduce you to the team and you can get to work!”

  He gestured towards a trio of young, fashionable men and women who, like well-trained animals, turned their attention to Travis right away and rushed over to us.

  “This is going to be your team. That's Sean, that's Jamila, and that's Maria.”

  Each of the three gave a little nod as their name was mentioned.

  “Everything you need should be somewhere on this floor,” Travis continued. “So if you need something, just have one of these young pups go fetch it for you. They're interns, so don't worry about bossing them around.”

  He flashed the team a good-natured smile, making it clear he was just having fun.

  “So, I won't keep you—good luck!”

  With that, Travis darted from the room. Then, it was just me and my team, all of them looking at me expectantly for orders. I knew that this was no time to be standing around being indecisive.

  Taking a deep breath, I spoke, asking one of them to get the design printed, the other to assemble the fabrics, and the other to bring the necessary supplies.

  Then, we were off.

  The day flew by, and I steadily grew more and more accustomed to my role as a leader of my little team. It was incredibly satisfying to watch the dress change from just sketches on a piece of paper to something real right before my eyes.

  And everything I could possibly need was there, even the parts to assemble the dress’s secret: solar-powered lights. The interns were beyond skilled, and had no trouble following my directions.

  Soon, three o'clock rolled around and the dress was just about ready. The team and I took the form up to the roof of the building to make sure the solar lights worked just fine and, sure enough, they did. The dress looked like something out of a fairy tale, and my heart did a little happy dance as I realized that it was nearly perfect.

  “It needs…something,” I said to my team. “Something to really make it pop on the runway.”

  “We've got some cool stuff,” said Sean, who was dressed in an all-white suit which looked crisp and modern against his dark skin. “Maybe, like, sunset-y lighting to complement the colors?”

  “Ooh,” added Maria, a stunning, hipster-esque blonde, “and a fog machine would definitely help set the mood.”

  “I love it,” said Jamila, a brunette with green eyes and a killer sense of style. “It'll really wow Mr. Cole.”

  We got to work. With the dress finished and placed on the form, we headed up to the small runway room and prepared all of the equipment. The windows were opened to allow the dress's solar lights to charge, Sean set up the lighting, and Maria and Jamila and I prepared the fog machine. Once the gear was set up, we fetched a suitable model—freckled and ginger to match the theme—and got her in the dress.

  By the time four o'clock arrived and my phone buzzed with a text from Travis asking me if I was ready, we were good to go. All the same, Travis's next message made my heart skip a beat.

  Mr. Cole will see you now.

  Chapter 7

  Cassidy

  To say that I was nervous would be the understatement of a lifetime. Standing in front of the doors of Mr. Cole's office, part of me thought I might pass out right there and then.

  “Come on in,” came that rich, smooth voice that I recognized from the show.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Rhys Cole's office was an elegant space, surprisingly a little more old-fashioned than the rest of the building. The walls were a crisp white accented with gold, black bookshelves packed with colorful spines of design books lined the space, and the floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the green of the office park. Soft, classical music played over a sound system, and the smell of sandalwood filled the air.

  And, of course, standing at the wide sweep of his desk, was Mr. Cole himself, leaning forward slightly, his palms resting on the dark wood. Travis stood to the right of him, a tablet in his hands.

  Rhys Cole was dressed in another one of his ultra-stylish dark suits, his blond hair as luminous as ever, his ice-blue eyes catching the sunlight in a way that made them almost seem to glow. As I entered, a small smile formed on his sensual lips.

  “There she is,” he said. “The woman I've been waiting to meet.”

  He walked over to me with a confident stride, his eyes locked on me all the while.

  “Rhys Cole,” he said, extending his hand to me. “A pleasure.”

  “More…more than mutual,” I said, my voice low and nervous.

  He raised an eyebrow slightly.

  “Come again?”

  I cleared my throat as a feeling of hot red blush crept up my neck.

  “I mean, it's more than mutual. The pleasure at, um, meeting you, that is.”

  He flashed me another warm smile.

  “No need to be nervous,” he said. “I've seen your work—there’s no question as to what you're capable of.”

  I felt a little more at ease as soon as the words left his mouth. Rhys projected calm and steady leadership; it was easy to see how someone like him could lead a massive company like this.

  “I just wanted to…put you to the test, a little bit. To see what you're able to accomplish when given a sudden deadline. Because, as I'm sure you can guess, such occurrences are commonplace in this industry. You never know when something's going to go awry, or when an emergency will require your total attention and needs to be addressed right then and there.”

  “Once, about five years ago in Milan,” Travis started, “one of our models got totally wasted the night before the show and went out on the town wearing her dress for the next day. Mr. Cole and I didn't find out until four hours before the show. So, the two of us had to put something together, right then and there.”

  “Oh my God. So what happened?”

  Mr. Cole smiled as he typed a few things on the sleek, silver computer on his desk. On the large TV hanging from the wall appeared the cover of an issue of a big-name fashion magazine from a few years back. The cover image featured a severe-faced, beautiful model dressed in a slim, gorgeous navy-blue dress.

  “There it is,” said Travis, no small amount of pride in his voice.

  “Holy shit!” I said. “You guys put that together in less than a day?”

  My hands shot to my mouth as I realized that I
'd just sworn in front of my new boss, but Rhys only chuckled slightly, sending the message that he wasn't bothered in the slightest.

  “You'd be surprised at what you're capable of in situations like that. Putting your creative drive in a do-or-die sort of scenario can sometimes tap into…dimensions of your abilities that you didn't know were there.”

  I felt a tinge of fear as I looked at the cover. Compared to what Mr. Cole was capable of, I felt like my dress was nothing special at all. Despite how magnanimous he was now, I couldn't help but imagine him watching my dress appear on the runway, an expression of disappointment forming on his gorgeous features as he wondered what he even saw in me to begin with.

  “Anyway,” said Mr. Cole, gesturing to a small door on the corner of his office which appeared to lead to the runway room adjacent. “I'm eager to see what you've been able to accomplish. Shall we?”

  “We shall,” I said, trying my best to sound confident.

  Mr. Cole opened the door and gestured for Travis and me to enter first. Travis flashed me a knowing smile as I walked through, one that seemed to say, “Don't worry—you've got this.”

  The room was a small space, big enough for a few chairs and a runway about fifteen feet long. It struck me as a smaller version of the convention center runway setup from the other night. My trio of assistants was already there, making the final adjustments to the lights and fog machine.

  “I see we've gone all out,” said Mr. Cole, looking over the equipment.

  I watched as he said his hellos to the staff, all of them seeming very eager and happy to see him.

  “Just adding a little something extra,” I said.

  Mr. Cole took a seat front and center.

  “I'm ready whenever you are,” he said.

  I took another deep breath and stood in front of the catwalk, facing him.

  “So, um, as I was telling Travis, this piece is a reflection of my love for medieval dress. I wanted to combine romance, drama, and high fashion to make something that was timeless, but also reminiscent of a different era. And, of course, incorporating environmentally and animal-friendly materials throughout the dress.”