by Bay, Louise
Frederick would see taking over Westbury Group as payback. Simple as that. And I couldn’t let him do it.
“It’s bad enough that he’s going to get the title and the estate. Isn’t that enough for him?” I asked.
“I’m afraid to say it, but I don’t think anything will ever be enough for him.”
Frederick had a chip on his shoulder the size of Canada. It wasn’t just me who thought so.
“I want you to think about marriage—if not Aurora then I’m sure if we put our heads together we could find someone else. The sister of a friend or someone.”
“What, and I pay them a ton of money, we have some registry office service and then we divorce?” Could I really do that?
“Well, it’s not quite that simple. The marriage has to last until you inherit,” Giles said.
Jesus.
“And you can’t give Frederick a reason to challenge it. The terms of the trust say that it must be a genuine marriage.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“You’ll have to live together as man and wife. Go to events together. On holiday. You need to have a marriage.”
I blew out a huff of air. This would be more than an arrangement. I was going to have to have a relationship with a woman, even if it wasn’t sexual.
“Is there anyone you can think of who would respond to a generous payment that I know you’d be prepared to offer?” Giles asked.
I let my head tip back and focused on the corner where the ceiling met the wall. Was I really thinking about doing this? “Maybe I could ask my assistant? I pay her well but not that well.”
“Your assistant is married, if you remember.”
“Oh shit, yes.” I’d deliberately recruited someone married so I wouldn’t end up fucking them and she’d end up hating me and leaving.
The list of potential wives wasn’t particularly long—Aurora, blonde cabin crewmember with the long legs, girl with the brown curly hair and great ass who worked at the gym.
No one from work. That would be too messy. I didn’t believe in shitting on my own doorstep.
There was the girl who worked behind the counter at the coffee place on the corner. She was pretty and could clearly use the money. But she couldn’t be more than twenty. What happened if she turned out to be a monster?
I didn’t really know any women socially, other than my friends’ wives, or my sister’s friends. “I can ask Darcy,” I said.
“Well, consider if one of Darcy’s very English friends is the right way to go. Wouldn’t someone in New York be better for you?”
I stood up and wandered toward the window and looked out over the city. There must be a woman in this town who needed a big wedge of cash.
“Let me think about it.” When I had big decisions to make, I usually knew the right answer in my gut. Yet despite getting married seeming like the only option, it still didn’t feel right.
“Just don’t take too long. I know your grandfather just had a fall this time, but I’m sorry to say that you don’t know whether it could be more serious next time. And you might not get any warning. If you want to keep control of Westbury Group, you need to get married fast.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Giles.” I couldn’t think about my grandfather’s death being imminent. I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready for such a huge change to all our lives.
I cancelled the call and slung my phone across my desk. What a mess.
John interrupted my reflection as he swept into my office. “So, you didn’t close it?” he asked. “This could be a really good investment for us. What’s getting in the way?”
Cecily Fragrance was the last thing I wanted to worry about. None of our investments meant anything if Frederick was running the show.
“They want to retain equity. In fact, I think they just want us to play banker—replace the loans at a better rate and let them run the business.” John took a seat in his normal chair opposite my desk.
“That’s not what we do. We add value by taking management decisions.”
“Err, yes. Thank you for reminding me,” I said.
“But did you remind them?”
“No, I forgot.” The sarcasm was running thick through my veins today. Did he think I was an idiot? “Jesus, what’s the matter with you?”
“Calm down, Captain Temper. What the fuck has put you in such a shitty mood? Did your doctor just call to say you have herpes?”
“Fuck off. I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit today.”
John and I didn’t argue. We joked around a lot but there was rarely an edge. Apparently, today was different. “Sorry. I’ve just got some family shit going on.” I wasn’t about to tell him he might be soon out of a job. And frankly, so might I. I would tell him when I had a solution. For once, this was a problem he wasn’t going to be able to help me solve.
“Hey, man. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I don’t want to get out my knitting and talk about my feelings.” I needed to forget about Cecily Fragrance and concentrate on Frederick inheriting the estate. “I need to work some shit out.”
I’d go to the gym. Clear my head. Sex hadn’t worked, maybe exercise would.
“Okay, let me know what I can do. We could always up our offer on Cecily Fragrance. You know we’ve been holding back a little.”
I shook my head. “Money isn’t going to do it for them.” They knew we’d offered a fair price. John might take longer to realize. But it was clear to me that we weren’t going to be investors in Cecily Fragrance. It was as simple as that.
“There must be something we can do,” John said. “The figures look great on this business.”
I had to talk to him about the issues I was having in relation to Frederick and the Westbury Group. Perhaps he knew of a woman who might want to do a deal of a different kind with me. I needed someone who needed the money but not too much. Who didn’t mind being married but didn’t want to be married to me. Someone who looked like I might want to marry her if I was so inclined.
“You’re obviously trying to figure it out,” John said, getting to his feet when I didn’t reply. He couldn’t know that I was thinking about how to save my company, not how to take over Cecily Fragrance.
The two issues merged into one in my head like tea and hot water. In fact, perhaps that was a solution—combine both problems and find a solution for both Scarlett and the Westbury Group.
Chapter Seven
Ryder
I paced up in front of my desk, trying to work out a way of telling Scarlett my plan without scaring her off. I’d called her as soon as John had left my office yesterday. I’d told her nothing of my dilemma but the hope I heard in her voice relaxed me and gave me reason to think I could convince her to do something that would work for us both.
My desk phone buzzed.
“I have Scarlett King in reception for you,” my assistant said as I answered.
About time.
“Show her in,” I replied.
I slipped my jacket on just before Scarlett entered my office.
“Scarlett, how nice to see you again.”
She frowned and I indicated the two gray couches opposite each other. She was clearly suspicious about this meeting. She’d tried to get me to reveal more on the phone but I’d refused. I’d never had a conversation about marriage but I was pretty sure they were best done face-to-face.
She was dressed in black—her hair disappearing into the fabric of her dress. She wore a large silver cuff on her left hand and hadn’t brought any kind of bag or notebook in with her.
She took a seat and I sat opposite her, clearing the latest copies of Forbes, the Economist and Rolling Stone from the coffee table that separated us. My assistant would be in with tea in a matter of seconds.
“Thank you for seeing me. I know you must be busy,” I said, and she pulled the fabric of her skirt down and tucked it under her legs.
“You said you had a possible solution to our impasse,” she said. I’d
forgotten how sexy she was. How she carried herself in such a confident way. It had been a complete thrill when she’d undressed and opened her legs when I’d instructed her to. I hadn’t expected her compliance, but I’d hoped. I found the most challenging, clever women—the women who ate men alive in the boardroom—were the most pliant in the bedroom. As if they were desperate to give up some of the power they wielded during the day, wanted to take the pressure off and have someone else to decide how they would get their pleasure at night. Scarlett had been no different—she’d just been better than all the rest.
I needed to control the blood flow to my dick.
“Thank you,” I said to my assistant, grateful she’d arrived with tea.
She nodded and left the two of us together.
I reached for the teapot. Put the strainer over the cup farthest away from me and poured a cup for Scarlett.
“I don’t drink tea,” she said.
“You’ll like this. It’s good for the mornings.” In the morning I always had fresh lemongrass. Lapsang Souchong I saved for the afternoons and never served to guests. It was too much for most people to handle.
“I don’t drink tea,” she repeated.
I moved the strainer to my cup and poured. I glanced up to find her watching me.
I set down the teapot, took my saucer and sat back.
She stared back, waiting for me to speak. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes flickered from my mouth to my eyes.
“Drink the tea, Scarlett. You’ll enjoy it.”
She shook her head as if she was coming out of a daze. “I don’t want the tea.”
She was so determined not to follow my wishes it made the thought of her naked, her knees forced apart with the palms of her hands all the more entrancing. She was so different here in my office. “Fine. I want to hear more about what Cecily Fragrance means to you.” I needed her to be in the right headspace when she heard my offer. If she had at the front of her mind how important her business was, I hoped that would make her more likely to accept.
She leaned forward, the fingers of one hand curling over the other and resting on her knees, just a few inches from where she’d pulled her legs apart. I took a sip of my tea, in an effort to distract myself from the images flashing in front of me.
“Because you’re thinking of changing your mind?”
I placed my cup back in its saucer. “Please, Scarlett. Do as I ask.”
She gathered her hair up and then released it. “This is personal. For us both. You don’t get it because you’re just like every other suit in this city. It’s all about profits and margins for you. But for Cecily and me—we like to know that Brenda from marketing’s son is just off to college and she’s worried sick for him.” She flung her arms out wide. “We gave Sean in finance a month off last quarter to go be with his dad while he was dying. This is more than a business for me.”
“More?” She’d spoken with passion and I enjoyed listening to her.
Her voice was quieter when she spoke this time. “It’s different to what I’ve had before. I’m more invested. More fulfilled. And I like it. I want to stay. It’s my adventure and I’m not ready to give it up.”
She was always leaving me with more questions than answers. What did she mean, different to what she’d had before? Her adventure? What was the story with her? I liked her passion. I liked that she’d come here and thrown any kind of game-play or negotiation tactic out of the window.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to resist giving her what she wanted, even if she said no to my proposal.
“Why is this your adventure? Why is this business so important?”
She groaned and tipped her head back against the couch so she was staring at the ceiling. “We’ve been through all of this. You’ve heard it.”
That wasn’t my intention at all. I just wanted to know a little more about her.
“I told you I was married, right?” she said. It was the first acknowledgment of the night we’d spent together.
“Go on,” I said.
“Well, if you must know—he left me to go have a more interesting life. Told me that life mapped out with me was boring.”
I couldn’t imagine a single moment with the woman opposite me could ever be boring, but what the fuck did I know about marriage?
She picked at her nail as her hands rested in her lap. “And I guess this job, creating Cecily Fragrance, was me proving him wrong. Showing him that life wasn’t so certain. But it turned into something I didn’t know a job could be.” She shrugged as she exhaled. “I mean, I love it. I worked at an investment bank before and this is so much more fun—I have to decide on our notepaper as well as our accounting software. Everything from ensuring the P&L is correct to looking at our production process. Every day is different.” She glanced up at me. “I don’t want my ex to be right. That the adventure never works out for me. That I’m destined to be tied to my desk at a financial institution. And I don’t want that old life for me either.”
She looked surprised as she said it. “It’s not just about him. I want this for myself, too.” She laughed and put her hands in front of her face. “I feel like I’ve had a breakthrough in therapy.”
I wasn’t quite following her, and she must have seen the confusion in my expression, because she said, “It’s for me, too. I love where I work. I love that it feels like we’re creating a sliver of happiness in someone’s life, creating a memory in the perfume.”
I liked her passion, her honesty, the way she was fighting for what she wanted. It was rare that I saw that in the people I worked with. Or the women I fucked. I set down my cup and saucer.
“You want me to drink the damn tea?” she asked, picking up the untouched cup in front of her. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. I just don’t want to give up this company.”
“Put the cup down, Scarlett,” I said as she began to drink.
She was asking for a lot and that required something in return. And what I wanted most at that moment—more than I wanted full ownership of Cecily Fragrance—was a wife.
“I mean it,” she said. “If you want to have veto over a list of things as long as the Nile, it’s no problem. I’ll drink that weird tea every day. Isn’t there some way where we can come to an agreement?”
“I think maybe there might be,” I replied.
Chapter Eight
Scarlett
The fact that I was in the office of the hottest guy I’d ever laid eyes on and he was a mere foot and a half away had me hearing things. The fact that he’d seen me naked? That we’d had the best sex of my life? It was all combining to make me delusional. I couldn’t have heard him right. Maybe? I needed to shut up and stop rambling.
But I was sure I’d heard him say maybe.
I studied his face, waiting for the next words to leave his lips.
I fisted my hands, trying to keep from launching myself at him. I’d forgotten how completely attractive he was. It wasn’t just that his body was something right out of a modeling shoot, or his miles and miles of smooth golden skin, or the deep brown eyes that made me freeze whenever they were on me. It was the way he’d ordered me to put down my cup, and how I was helpless to do anything but obey. The way he’d commanded me to strip naked and spread my legs, and how I’d simply complied. It was the way all his movements were so concise, as if he didn’t waste any time or energy on anything.
No doubt he stored it all up to seduce a thousand women.
I squeezed my thighs together and his eyes fell to my groin before jerking back up.
“You say you’re looking for an adventure, that you want me to become Cecily Fragrance’s financier.” He stared past me as if speaking to himself in an empty room. “Maybe we can help each other.”
“In what way?”
He caught my eye and grinned. “You’re divorced, right?” he asked.
Oh my God. I wasn’t about to have sex with the man to keep Cecily Fragrance afloat. That was a step
too far. Who did he think I was? “I’m not sure what that’s got to do with anything.” I pulled my shoulders back. This was a business meeting.
“Legally divorced, not just separated,” he clarified.
“I’m not sure what that has to do with you or Cecily Fragrance.”
“I have a proposal for you.” He chuckled, amused at himself for some reason I didn’t understand. “Literally.” His tone grew serious and he leaned forward, his fingers loosely threaded through one another, his arms resting on his knees.
“You need me to keep your business, and I need you to help me save mine. Simple, really.”
Well, at least it didn’t sound like he wanted me to suck him off.
“Divorced, not separated, right?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I said, drawing out my response. “Though, I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
“Everything. I need a wife—and I think you might be the woman for the job.”
I was pretty sure I had a halo of cartoon stars above my head and Daffy Duck was somewhere around holding a frying pan. I had to be concussed. There was no other explanation.
Had Ryder seriously just suggested we get married?
Before I had a chance to respond, Ryder was on his feet.
“What do you think?” he asked, staring at me.
I needed to get out of there. I had no idea what was happening. He seemed normal enough but he clearly had issues. “What do I . . .?” I got up from the couch, Ryder’s gaze fixed on me from across the coffee table. “I think I’m going to leave.”
“I know it’s sudden,” Ryder said, sweeping his hand through his hair. “I’ve not really thought it all through, but it could work.”
“You’re not making any sense,” I replied, studying his face to see if I could spot any visible signs of a psychotic break or a stroke or something.
Frowning, he pulled his head back.
“Maybe it’s an aneurysm,” I muttered to myself.