by Amy Marie
But because I don’t relish the shit he’s going to give me for it.
I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I’m sure as hell not looking for a wife. I just need to get this woman under me so I can get over this ridiculous obsession.
Or on top of me.
Or in front of me.
At this point, I really don’t care. And I’m out of options because as good as my guys are at drumming up information, they spent twenty-four hours searching and couldn’t find anything on Kota Ellis’s supposed assistant.
Which means Cyn is being paid under the table.
An interesting tidbit I plan to ask her about the next time I see her. Which will be never if I don’t get over myself and make this damn call.
Sighing, I pick up my phone from the seat and scroll through my contacts until I find the one name I’ve hesitated to reach out to for help.
Then I hit Dial.
It takes only two rings for him to answer.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice, Knight Rider?”
I groan. “Go fuck yourself, Sterling.”
His low chuckle grates on my nerves, and my grip tightens on the phone. “It appears I have to. According to the seven hundred and fifty-eight thousand followers on your Twitter page, there’s no one left.”
Asshole.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than read about my dick online?”
“Probably, but then what would we do with the tiny-penis section of the employee newsletter?”
“I hate you.” I don’t, but that’s beside the point.
Sterling Quinn is one of only two people in the world who can get away with this shit. The other being his best friend and business partner, Asher Vaughn. The three of us met freshman year at MIT and quickly became an indestructible trio.
One no father would ever want around his daughter.
Nobody knows me like these two, and consequently, nobody busts my balls like they do either. I trust them with my life, which is the only reason I’m opening myself up to Sterling’s bad jokes. Well, that and he and Asher run one of the most profitable and respected IT companies in the world.
Which brings me to the whole reason I’m putting myself through this. “If you’re finished being a dick, I have a favor to ask.”
“Shoot.”
“I need you to find someone for me.”
There’s a moment of silence. “Kellen, what the hell are you involved in?”
“It’s nothing like that. It’s perfectly legal. Sort of.”
“Sort of? What the hell is ‘sort of’?” Sterling’s calm voice rises, and I know just by his tone I have to bring him around, or he’s going to shut me down.
“There’s this girl I met, and I only know her first name. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s her real name. I just… shit, Sterling…” I take a deep breath, my hand brushing across her sketch pad. “I have something of hers I need to return.”
“That’s sweet,” he drawls before hardening his tone. “Now tell me the real reason before I hang up on you.”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Fine, but I hope you’re sitting down. You’re not going to believe this shit.”
I always look forward to my weekly meeting with KK Midnight Enterprises’ most trusted advisors. Not because I particularly like the people in this room, but because the rush of having my hands in every aspect of my father’s business fuels me. I’ve earned their respect. Men twice my age see me as a leader instead of the arrogant punk they once knew.
In this room, I’m a god.
Except for today.
Walter, my chief financial officer, is at the front of the room getting off on some PowerPoint presentation about cash flow and return on equity while I stare at my phone. It’s been three days since Sterling promised he’d find Cyn, and I still have more questions than answers.
Like, how does a woman just disappear into thin air?
Why is there no record of employment?
Why the hell do I care?
“Don’t you agree, Kellen?”
I snap out of my haze to see Mitchell, my VP of marketing, staring at me with his arms crossed. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked you if you agreed with my suggestion.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, sure. Sounds great.”
I have no fucking idea what the hell he just said or what I agreed to. Mainly because my phone just vibrated, drawing my attention to the message blazing across the screen.
Found your mystery girl.
I glance up again to see all eyes focused on me. I don’t have time to explain myself, nor do I intend to. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” Murmurs filter around the room, but I couldn’t care less. I already have Sterling on the phone by the time I slam the door to my office. “What do you have?”
“Your girl’s name is Lucynda Ellis.”
Finally, a name.
Lucynda Ellis.
Ellis?
“Wait, as in Archibald Ellis?”
“I know. It gets better. Lucynda and Kota are stepsisters. Kota’s mom married the fifty-year-old billionaire after Lucynda’s mother passed. Then, as I’m sure you’re aware, she took over the family business upon his passing. Seems Lucynda has stayed out of the limelight, unlike her wannabe-actress sister.” There’s a pause, and smugness creeps into his voice. “You planning on a threesome? Asher and I don’t have plans tonight, so feel free to hook up a webcam and—”
I shake my head. The sad thing is that Sterling is the more reserved of the two.
“This is why your hand is the only date you’ve had in months, Quinn,” I growl. “You’re a shitbag.”
He laughs, horns honking in the background. “I’ll text you her address.”
I end our call and wait, rolling the phone in my palms.
An heiress.
She’s a goddamn heiress.
The minute his text comes through, I grab my coat and head toward the lobby before I can change my mind. “Cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day, Laura,” I mutter to my secretary as I shove my arms into the sleeves of my suit jacket.
“Mr. Knight, where are you going, sir?”
With any luck, between Lucynda Ellis’s legs.
“I’ll be unreachable.”
“But, sir…”
I let out a sigh and turn to see her chewing on her thumbnail. “What is it?”
“You have the McKinley Gala tonight. Your tux has been picked up, and you’re expected to be there in less than two hours.”
Unbelievable.
I’ve just been cockblocked by a bunch of endangered birds.
I scrub a hand over my face, wondering who I pissed off in another life to deserve this, when an idea hits me. “Was the invitation just for me?”
A faint blush stains her cheeks. “There was a plus-one, but I only RSVP’d for you, sir. You never, um, bring a date to these events.”
She’s right. I don’t. The last thing I want is to be photographed with some random woman and then read about our fictional torrid love affair for the next month. Plus, it just puts expectations in my dates’ heads that don’t need to be there. Call me an asshole, but it makes sense.
Unlike the moronic, absolutely asinine thing I’m about to do.
I cock my chin and narrow my eyes at my secretary. She’s petite. It’s just an educated guess, but I bet that underneath all those layers of frumpy, boxy clothes, she’s about Cyn’s size.
Laura’s blush deepens, and she tugs at the collar of her frilly blouse. “Um, Mr. Knight, you’re staring.”
“What size dress do you wear, Laura?”
“Four, sir. Why?”
In three strides I’m at her desk, plucking the pen from her hand and scribbling the address I’ve already committed to memory on her always present notepad. “Take the rest of the afternoon off. I need you to go shopping for me. Find a ball gown that fits you and have it sent to this address along with this note.”
Flipping the page, I quickly scribble out a note. I have no idea if Cyn will actually show up, but if she does, then I know she’s interested. If she doesn’t, then I know she’s not interested, and I have to convince her otherwise.
To her credit, Laura doesn’t ask any questions. Instead, she tears off the piece of paper and tucks it into her purse. “Any certain color?”
I’m so giving this woman a raise.
“Red.” She nods and begins gathering her belongings. I head toward the exit, when the image of Cyn in that final shoot crosses my mind. How elegant and beautiful she looked. How I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “No,” I blurt out, stopping midstride. “Blue. Baby blue. Strapless and preferably floor length.”
“That may prove to be a little hard to find, sir.”
I shake my head and push the door open. “You have no idea.”
Chapter 7
Cyn
I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. Kota is distracted with her date for the evening, and I have nothing to do. Not only that, but she also let me go at six. That has to be a record of some kind for a Friday night.
With a skip in my step, I enter my building and smile warmly at the resident security guard. “Hey, Jaq.”
He dips his chin, his pale cheeks dimpling with a grin. “Miss Ellis.”
Always Miss Ellis with him, never Cyn. “I’m ordering a pizza,” I tell him, deciding out loud. “Want any?” We play this game often. He’ll still say no out of courtesy, and I’ll bring him a slice anyway because I can never finish a pie by myself.
“Brenda just brought me my dinner,” he replies, patting his lack of a belly. “Roast beef stew.” His brown eyes crinkle with a smile.
“All right, well, if I have any leftovers, I’ll drop them off for you,” I promise.
He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” Giving him a little wave, I step toward the elevator, only to pause as he says, “Oh! I almost forgot. This came for you today. Nice lady dropped it off. Hold on.”
I frown, curious. “A lady?”
“Yessum.” He shuffles around his desk, then hands me a long white box with a note stuck to the top.
I have something you might be looking for. Attend the McKinley Gala with me tonight and maybe I’ll give it back. Car will be there at 8 p.m. —Kellen K.
“You have got to be kidding me.” All week I’ve tried to find a way to contact this asshole, but to no avail. There was no address or number in the phone book, other than the contact details tied to his company. And trying to get through the operator to Kellen Knight’s office was impossible to do. Of course, with all the errands Kota had me running this week, I barely had time to try. Still, now he reaches out? To attend a gala?
How about no? I think, snorting.
“Cyn?” The familiar voice comes from my right, near the entrance to the building.
My eyebrows whip upward. Oh, what do you know? The reason for my misery is here. Well, technically that award belongs to Kota, but Maria is a close second.
I sigh. Actually, that’s not fair. The poor woman was just doing her job.
Forcing a smile, I say, “Hi, Maria.” I nearly ask what she’s doing here, but the box on the desk recaptures my focus. What did he send me with the note if not my sketchbook? I peek inside and gasp at the pale blue fabric. What did he do? Steal the dress from the shoot?
Hmm, is it technically stealing when he owns the company?
I run my fingers over the texture, frowning. Actually, no. This is a different dress. It even still has the tag on it.
And, holy crap, that’s more than my monthly rent!
I close the box and shake my head just as Maria reaches my side. “Everything all right?” she asks.
Nope. Not all right. Not all right at all. “Kellen just sent me a dress,” I say dumbly. “Something about a gala and an eight o’clock pickup.” Like he just expects me to go. Car will be there at 8 p.m. Pompous ass. How on earth could he think I’d say yes to this?
Because I have something you want, I hear him whispering in my head.
My sketchbook.
Why go through the theatrics? Just send it back to me.
“Hmm.” Maria is considering me intently. “Which gala?”
Rather than answer, I show her the card. What can it hurt? She knows the guy. Heck, she’s the reason he knows me!
No, again, that’s Kota’s fault.
And sort of Maria’s, too.
These mental gymnastics are not helping my situation. Not that I have a situation. I just need to say no. Easy. Except I really want my drawings back.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I consider my dilemma as Maria asks, “Do you have a hair appointment booked? Makeup?”
Why is she still standing here? No, better question. What is she even doing here? “No,” I reply, a little miffed by her question. “I didn’t realize I would be invited to a gala tonight.”
She nods as if she expected this response. “Well, it seems fate is in your favor.” She grins. “Gigi lives in 202 and she’s a beautician. We’re supposed to go out for drinks, but I’m sure she won’t mind helping you out first.”
I blink at her. “What? Why?”
“Come on. We’ll consider it a debt owed after you saved my butt last weekend,” she says, picking up the box from the desk of a bemused Jaq.
“Saved your butt?” I repeat. “For the commercial they have to reshoot because I can’t act to save my life.”
Now it’s her turn to frown. “Reshoot? What are you talking about?”
“Kota told me they’re reshooting. Kellen even stopped by to ask her to do it.”
Her lips flatten. “I’ve never liked that woman. The only reason I hired her was due to the last-minute timing and the company’s request for a brunette.” She starts toward the stairs, my dress in her hands. “Now we have about ninety minutes to make you gala-worthy. Let’s not waste time.”
“I’m not going,” I tell her as I follow her up toward the second floor, intending to grab my box.
She gives me an amused look over her shoulder. “You’re going. No one turns down Kellen Knight. Besides, it says on the card that he has something you want.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That doesn’t mean I’m going.”
“But you are, darling,” she says, pausing at the top of the stairs. “Look, I owe you for helping last weekend. Now it’s my turn to return the favor. If you choose not to use it, that’s on you. But just in case, Gigi is going to fix you up. And then hopefully you’ll make the right decision.”
“Right decision,” I repeat.
She’s already walking again, causing me to pick up my pace to keep up.
“The right decision is not to go,” I inform her. “He’s a prick.”
“A prick who sent you a dress,” she muses, pausing at a door marked 202. “He’s also a prick who isn’t reshooting the commercial. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have already been paid. So whatever Kota told you, I’d take with a grain of salt.” She gives me a knowing glance before knocking on the door.
“They’re not reshooting?”
“Nope.” Her lips popped at the end, causing the word to reverberate down my spine.
Kota lied.
The thought slaps me across the face so hard I nearly stumble.
If she lied about that… then her comments regarding Kellen were lies as well.
Which means he never slept with her.
That hopeful consideration shouldn’t please me nearly as much as it does.
“Hey, girl,” a curly-haired female says, throwing open the door with a margarita in her hand. Dark eyes meet mine, a question in them. I’ve seen her in the building before but had never said much beyond a casual greeting here or there.
“Minor change in plans,” Maria says, smiling. “We’re playing the part of fairy godmother tonight before we go out. The princess beside me needs a miracle before she heads off to the McKinley Gala. I told her you’d be up to the challenge.”
G
igi takes in my full appearance from head to toe, then nods slowly. “I can work with this. But we’re going to need more margaritas.”
Maria’s hazel eyes twinkle with mischievous energy. “I’ll work the blender while you work your magic.”
I’m not given the option to run. Just like on Saturday, I’m again a puppet for Maria to maneuver however she wants. The only difference this time? I’m a willing participant because not only do I want my sketchbook back but I also need to hear Kellen’s version of the meeting with my stepsister. If there even is one.
Chapter 8
Cyn
Maria really is starting to feel like a fairy godmother. First with the makeover on Saturday and now this. I barely recognize myself in the reflection of the hotel’s glass doors.
I haven’t been this woman in… years.
Memories dance through my head, including my last social function of this nature. My mother had worn a deep-red gown, the color offsetting her pale skin. She resembled a queen and kept calling me her little princess, as I wore a similarly shaded dress.
There were diamonds.
Smiles.
Laughs.
My father appeared so young and alive, unlike the years before his death.
I miss you, I think at them both. I miss you every day.
If only they could see me now. My mother would be disappointed in my lack of achievements, and my father, well, he probably wouldn’t be able to look at me. I resemble my mother with every feature, now even more as a result of age.
“Miss.” A man dressed in a tux greets me at the doors, stirring me from my recollection. He ushers me across the threshold and onto a red carpet lined with photographers. Several take interest in me and my gown, but when no one famous enters the building behind me, they dismiss me as a nobody.
Because they don’t recognize me.
The dismissal serves as a reminder of just how much my life has changed over my twenty-one years. I remember nights where they practically ran after my mother and father.
Tonight, I’m just a blonde in a blue dress.
Hmm, well, I prefer this gown to last weekend’s puffy skirts. The silk flows like water over my hips, trailing to the ground. My entire back is exposed as well, all the way to the base of my spine. Meanwhile, the front is a little more modest, the sweetheart neckline cupping my breasts rather nicely.
