“No one going to answer?” he thundered. There was that intensely uncomfortable silence when everyone began to wonder if he expected someone to speak up, but they weren’t going to lead the way. “Then I ask you, what do you do well?”
Again, that uncomfortable silence. He filled it. "You are a vessel, filled with a raw energy. A sort of soul lava that burns inside and sets you apart from the person sitting to your left and to your right. You are unique, and gifted with an essence that is yours alone. You have two purposes—to define your richness and to never share or compromise it. With mediocrity comes failure. With conformity comes the collapse of all you were meant to be."
Each of his words hit me with a spike of ambition. He could have sold me anything; whether I could afford it or whether I wanted it, I needed it simply because it came from him. I felt transformed, giddy and highly aroused.
That next hour was forever embossed on my memory.
Alec’s hazel eyes seemed to settle on me often, and I swore the corners of his mouth twitched before he moved on. It was as if the auditorium was empty and he was speaking only to me. His charisma could penetrate a bank vault.
That magical hour soon came to an end, and while some made their way to the front, others were filing out of the auditorium. I jumped up and walked to the podium where a small crowd was gathering. Alec was shaking the hands of important-looking people. Another perky student had gotten there before me and was trying to get his attention.
“Mr. Berenson, are you looking for someone new to mentor? Is there an application, or something? I looked on your website, but I didn’t see anything to work with you directly,” she said, as she tried to get a selfie with him at the same time. “My parents have the money.”
“Yes, Walter my assistant here will get all your information,” he said, turning to an older man near his side who had some forms. She snatched one and started filling it out. My heart sank. I didn’t think about having to apply, or worse, to pay. I had just enough money for food for a couple weeks. What was I thinking? It was like a punch to the gut, how stupid I’d been. But then he looked at me and smiled. I knew I just had one chance, and I had to make the most of it.
“Hello, Alec, I mean, Mr. Berenson,” I stumbled and stuck out my hand for him to shake. “I’m Callie Courtney.”
He smiled, took it in his large hand; firm but warm, shooting a bolt of energy through me.
“Hello, Callie Courtney,” he said, holding on a beat longer than I expected. “How did you like the seminar?” he asked, his voice deep and his gaze electric. I forgot the whole intro I had prepared last night and could barely remember how to talk.
“It was awesome,” I stumbled.
“You took a lot of notes,” he nodded toward my legal pad. “I’d be interested in what you wrote down.”
“Of course, do you want me to email them to you?” I suggested, suddenly in a panic that he would see the little sketch I drew of him on the second page.
“Or you could just tell me,” he replied.
“Sure, that sounds good,” I said, relieved. “Right now?”
“Do you mind waiting a few minutes while a finish up here?” Alec asked.
“No, that’s fine,” I answered, moving aside, glad for a chance to regroup and get out of idiot mode. I had to concentrate. What did I find valuable, what did I find valuable? Was this a trick question, like in an interview? Did he really care? He seemed to, but I was so awestruck, I couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence. I thought about going over to Walter and getting the application, but that sent another pang of defeat through my heart, especially seeing Alec surrounded by a crowd of adoring people, mostly young women. Ugh.
I looked down at my notes. What had I written? I scanned the pages, briefly reliving the electrifying lecture. His words came back to me, the same message I first heard in his interview on T.V. Suddenly, I knew what to say. I looked up, ready again to meet my fate, but instead saw him waving goodbye to the group and leaving through the backstage. My heart sank. I thought about running after him, but I could see him going out with security and official people following him. I’d already made a fool of myself without chasing after him like a maniac. I had my one chance and blew it.
The crowd dispersed, and I found myself alone on the stage, still holding my notebook, trying to process what had happened. I slowly made my way toward the edge of the stage to the steps, walking by the podium in a daze when I noticed a notecard there. I wondered if he left it and went over to take a look. It was blank, but standing there in the empty theater, I looked up from the podium and imaged myself speaking to a crowd. I picked up the card and turned it over, seeing just two words.
“Raw shine,” I read out loud, hearing my voice come out through the speakers, startling myself. Then, embolden by the amplified sound and the empty seats, I continued. “I remember when I first met Alec, years ago. It was in a small theater just like this one.”
I started to slip into my full-out fantasy mode, nothing to lose.
“I barely had the nerve to talk to him, but then that phrase hit me, ‘raw shine’ and gave me courage. I made my way straight through the crowd around him, introduced myself, shook his hand and straight up asked, ‘Mr. Berenson, will you mentor me?’ And do you know what he said?” I addressed my make-believe enthralled audience, a sudden hush washing over them.
“Yes,” came a deep voice from behind me. I swung around, caught in my own game. There stood Alec, near the other side of the backstage, smiling at me. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Four
Alec
There are those who travel, combing the world for the unusual—the Great Pyramids of Giza, Australia’s Great Barrier Reef—and then there was what I sought. She had sat in the front row, wearing a slightly fuzzy, powder blue sweater that made me remember that I was a man. A spark of curiosity lit up her eyes and a porcelain freshness glowed on her face. It was an unbelievably intoxicating combo. Then she formally introduced herself with the sweet gesture of saying her full name and shaking my hand. Now she stood looking at me with her wheat-colored hair—a bit wild, but shining in the spotlight—thinking seconds ago that she was alone. I didn’t want to interrupt her, but she had asked the golden-ticket question.
“Oh, god,” she said, looking mortified. “How long have you been there?”
“I never really left, just walked off stage left, went behind the curtain to stage right, and waited for the crowd to leave so I could talk to you without interruption. I was coming out when you started your soliloquy.”
“I’m such a freak,” she said, her face turning flush.
“Yes, you’re a little out there, Callie Courtney, but that’s exactly what I’m looking for,” I said, smiling, not wanting her to feel bad about her flair for imagination. “I do the same thing all the time.”
“You do?!”
"Sure. It's my way of taking a bad situation and turning it around in my head. That method has served me well in business, and clearly, you're a natural at it."
“So, wait,” she interrupted. “Did you mean it, that you’ll mentor me? Don’t I have to fill out an application, and pay some sort of fee?”
“I think we can make an exception for you since you already ‘auditioned’ in person, and I currently need a business assistant. How old are you anyway?”
“Are you allowed to ask that?” she squinted her eyes.
“Um, probably not, but does it matter?”
"No, I mean, I'm twenty-three. Anyway, I already know you're thirty-six, a Taurus, stubborn but loyal." She didn't lack for directness, and I liked that. Her blue eyes stared back at my direct gaze, unblinking.
“You’ve done your research,” I laughed.
“What does your business assistant do, exactly?” she asked as I made my way to the front of the stage to her.
“At first I’d like you to shadow me, learn what I teach, and eventually fill in for me at some of my corporate obligations. You can help with my so
cial media, work on expanding my lecture tour, remind me people’s names... even their astrological signs. I’m sure there will be times that your education will teach me a few things, too. What is it you want to do with your life? What’s your passion?”
“I think that’s what I need the most help with, figuring out where I belong, which mountain I should climb” she admitted.
“That’s easy, and once we discover the right opportunity, I’ll invest in you and you’ll build your own empire.” I made down the wooden steps as she followed right behind. “That’s how it’s worked with most of the others.”
“But you know, I’m not quite like the others,” she said, grabbing my sleeve and twirling me around to look at her. “You won’t fire me after a week if I say something odd that embarrasses you? I tend to say what I think without filters.”
“I like that, and don’t worry, we’re a team now,” I reassured her.
“Okay, can I have that in writing?” She held a strong grip.
“Yes, Ms. Courtney, I’ll have my lawyer call your lawyer before we fly out of Chicago.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be difficult, Mr. Berenson,” she said, suddenly letting go. “I’m really thrilled to be your assistant, and truly appreciate the opportunity. I just wanted to be … sure.”
“It’s Alec,” I said, looking down into her eyes, suddenly caught off guard by her expression. “Sure of what?”
“You’re not making this up,” she said.
“No, this is real, and we’ve got a busy day ahead, so try to keep up,” I said, turning and striding up the aisle with her following close behind.
We left, exiting into the cool gale running through the cavernous buildings of the city. I saw my limousine and flagged it, stepping to one side so she could enter before me. I watched her dancer’s legs dip in and she slid into the seat with the effortless guile of an athlete who could mold herself into any configuration at will. I jumped in across from her and shut the door.
“So, what is my pay?” she prompted me, and I laughed. She looked like an angel but had the soul of an international negotiator.
“Name it.” I challenged her in return. I could see her doing some quick calculations in her brain.
“Two thousand a week, with room, and board, and all expenses.” I noticed she held her breath, offering a number that represented what she thought might be high, giving her room to bargain with. I would have given her ten times that much.
“Four thousand a week, all expenses, including a suitable wardrobe, company car, and we’ll have to do something about your hair.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Her hand flew up to her forehead, her fingers combing down the runaway strands. I knew instantly that was what she considered her weakest asset.
“Your hair is beautiful, but it needs a little taming. We can fix that though. It can all be fixed.”
“All?”
“I thought you came to me to be your mentor.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Okay, some taming, but nothing too drastic.”
The limo pulled up before the hotel. I stood and motioned her to proceed me in departure. “Of course, no buzz cuts.”
Callie smirked and her profile revealed the tiniest bit of baby chub still on her chin. Her cheekbones were high, her complexion without flaws, or makeup for that matter, and her eyes held all the seven seas, depending on the light. She was perfect. Mother Nature had taken every color on her palette and built it into this stunning young woman before me.
We stepped into the elevator; me leaning against the back wall and her standing nearby. “One thing.”
“Yes?” I was curious what she wanted. Her response surprised me.
“What do you want from me?” She was direct.
"Something I lost years ago."
“What?”
“Innocence.”
Chapter Five
Callie
“Walter, this is Callie Courtney. She is my new business assistant. Please get another room next to ours for her tonight.”
“Certainly.” The man named Walter looked stodgy and opinionated. He was, however, the epitome of efficiency as he showed me into a chair in their suite and promptly picked up a phone to order the room. A few minutes later there was a tap on the door and a sweet-faced young woman whose badge identified her as concierge escorted me to the next door down the hallway. Walter followed.
"Mr. Berenson has instructed me to give you carte blanche at the hotel women's shop. They're waiting for you now, and afterward, he would like you to dine with him in the Bayside Lounge downstairs. We won't be departing until tomorrow morning, Miss."
“Please, Walter. Would you call me Callie, and may I call you Walter?”
“As you wish, Ms. Callie.” I suspected that’s as close as he could permit himself to come. He held out a keycard, and I accepted it with amazement. How had I gotten here?
The concierge offered to escort me to the dress shop where I was handed off to a tall, willowy brunette who seemed to float among the elegant finery the shop carried. “I’m here to help you with a new wardrobe,” she informed me in a punctuated voice that didn’t invite any chumminess on my part. “My name is Brigitte,” she said. Of course, it is, I thought.
Brigitte parked me in a dressing room that was bigger than my bedroom at home. One wall was mirrored and there were multiple, carved hooks in the other opposing walls where dresses hung like pastries in a bakery case. A tufted wingback and matching ottoman occupied the center of the room.
Brigitte indicated I should stand as she removed my clothing, and while standing in my underwear and bra, she measured me thoroughly. She made notes on her iPhone and sent a few quick texts before indicating that I could have a seat.
The first woman brought lingerie, and within moments I was standing in something lacy and soft pink. It felt good against my skin and I would have willingly slept in it, except that was yet to come. Sleepwear nighties in matched sets with slippers and robes were presented for inspection, but it was Brigitte, and not me, who did the choosing. It was implied that I’d already done my best; now she was taking over.
Eventually, Brigitte stopped having me try on clothes. She seemed to develop a sense of what suited me and waved me off. "Please, feel free to go about your afternoon. We'll have your purchases sent up." She turned and left me alone in the dressing room. There was nothing to do but get dressed and wander out the door.
I hadn’t gotten far when Walter appeared and took my elbow. “Ms. Callie, they’re expecting you at the salon,” he informed me.
Moments later I entered the world of eau de permanent solution and rainbow hair colors. A woman named Martha was waiting for me. She held scissors like machetes in preparation and I was nervous to even slide into her chair. She spent a good amount of time just looking at me in her mirror, lifting strands of my hair and then furiously combing through them, only to let them fall into their natural places. She muttered in unintelligible words. I felt like she’d have been happier if my hair was alone in her chair and I’d leave and come back for it when she was done. Once she was satisfied, I was led to a washbowl and my hair and scalp were thoroughly shampooed. Hot water shot down the back of my collar. I thought I would have done better if I’d ridden through a car wash in a convertible. That said, this was what they called the five-star treatment, and I needed to get used to it.
Exhausted, I finally found my way to my room, my fingers stiffly extended so as not to ruin my new manicure. My hair was beautifully styled, and all I could think of was taking a nap. That would be out of the question. I even tried lying down and balancing my neck on a rolled pillow, but the first time my eyes closed, my head tipped to one side and I sprang upright as if stung by a bee.
Walter tapped inconspicuously on my door. “Are you ready for dinner, Miss Callie?”
“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” I called through the door, desperately touching up the hair strands to lie as neatly as they had when I’d le
ft the salon. I felt like a wedding cake just two minutes from the big presentation.
Emerging from the room, I took a deep breath and looked to Walter’s face for a reaction. There was none. My tada moment left me feeling deflated. He escorted me downstairs and into the lounge where Alec was waiting. As I approached the table, Alec rose from his chair, holding out his hand toward me. I instinctively hesitated in reaching to shake it, and happily so. He lifted my hand and kissed it; the most romantic thing I’d ever experienced. All the misery of the afternoon’s preparation disappeared, and I would have gone through it again in that moment without complaint just to be treated so adoringly.
Alec held my chair, and I perched in a stiff, but very ladylike, posture. “Thank you for the wonderful afternoon, Alec. You were more than generous.”
He nodded and unfurled the white linen napkin and placed it on his lap. I followed suit. "You look lovely, Callie."
I could feel myself blushing and looked down into my lap.
“What’s wrong? Did that compliment embarrass you?”
I nodded and couldn’t meet his eyes. “A little.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m not used to hearing those things.”
“Really? A beautiful young woman like you?”
Tipping my head, I shook it an uncertain way. “Guys say that but they’re only, well, you know...”
“You feel they have an ulterior motive?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“Exactly like that, would be my guess. You are stunning. I would be disappointed in any man who didn’t make advances toward you. Remember, you are still in control. Your personal space belongs to you. When someone compliments you, you only need to say ‘thank you.’”
I gave him a wicked eye look. “Thank you.”
He chuckled. “You see? Works every time.”
My Dream Job: A Billionaire Boss Romance Page 2