“Send him in.”
“Good luck,” I whispered as Christophe went into the office and closed the door.
I heard a loud thump and raised voices. Conan was barely letting Christophe get a word in. It quickly escalated into a shouting match, but I couldn’t tell what they were arguing about.
Christophe looked defeated as he left Conan’s office.
“Hey moron! You forgot the goddamn file!” Conan screamed as he followed Christophe.
The worker rats were peering over their cubicles as Conan threw a heavy-duty three-ring binder at Christophe’s chest. It landed on the floor with a thud.
“That better be back on my desk with EVERYTHING I NEED before you leave tonight. Don’t bother coming in tomorrow otherwise,” said Conan as he slammed his door.
“He’s Mr. Hyde today,” Christophe said as he picked up the file.
Conan emerged from his office an hour later. He towered over me and put his fist on my desk. Oh hell, am I going to get it now?
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” said Conan. “The kid has a bright future, but he’s been making a lot of stupid mistakes lately. I don’t want to have to fire him, so I figured it was time to play bad cop … to whip him into shape.”
“Ah.”
“Don’t worry, Kelvin’s taking him out for a nice lunch to smooth things over. Anyway, I need you to go somewhere with me tonight … strictly business of course.”
“Where?”
“I have to inspect the first floor of one our premises, but I don’t want the guys on-site to know I’m doing an inspection. Most of the floor is taken up by a restaurant, so we’re going to pretend that we’re just there to have dinner. Don’t go home after work. I’ll be back later. Understood?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t looking forward to it after the way he savaged Christophe, but I couldn’t say no.
* * *
The office was empty and I looked at my watch. It was almost seven.
When Conan finally returned he was wearing a smart dinner jacket. He’s dashing day and night … and I’m obviously underdressed.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Just a minute.” I got a whiff of his musky cologne and I accidentally pushed a few files to the floor as I was tidying my desk. “Oops.”
“You’re clumsy tonight.” Conan bent over to pick up the files.
I wanted to run my fingers through his neatly combed dark-brown hair, and I couldn’t help but imagine the feel of his naked body against mine. Snap out of it! You’re on a mission. This is NOT a date! What is this man doing to me?
“Thank you,” I said as I grabbed my handbag.
“My driver’s downstairs. Let’s go.”
A long black limo was waiting at the main entrance.
“After you,” said Conan as he opened the car door. “L’Atelier,” he instructed the driver.
There were two armed men in the limo. Conan’s bodyguards weren’t in the car with us when we went to the poker club. With this sort of security, it’s a good thing the White Queen doesn’t expect me to kill him.
“What type of restaurant are we going to?” I asked.
“French. It has three Michelin stars.”
“I see.” I stared out the window as we buzzed through traffic, passing flashing billboards and neon signs.
The limo pulled into the curved driveway in front of an art nouveau building. Conan’s bodyguards got out and checked the area before opening the rear door. They walked on either side of us and I felt like some sort of cosseted possession.
Conan glanced around at the security cameras in the granite lobby as he greeted the guards. He excused himself to go to the restroom, but I knew he was checking the emergency exits.
“Sorry to keep you waiting Scarlet. Let’s get dinner,” said Conan.
Conan shooed away his bodyguards as we walked into the restaurant. They stood at the entrance like a pair of crows.
The maître d’ knew Conan by name. We were seated at a window table that overlooked an inner courtyard with a lighted fountain. “Madame, monsieur,” said the maître d’ as he handed us menus.
“Bonsoir. May I bring you something to drink?” asked a waiter with a heavy French accent.
“A bottle of Dom Pérignon,” said Conan.
“Oui monsieur, right away.”
“Scarlet, I think we should have the tasting menu.”
“Sounds good.” I smiled.
The waiter was soon back with the bubbly. He filled our glasses and placed the bottle in a sterling silver ice bucket on a stand next to the table. “May I take your order?”
“We’ll both have the three-course degustation menu,” Conan said.
“Merci,” replied the waiter as he took our menus and scampered to the kitchen.
“To my secretary who’s gorgeous even when she’s not dressed for the occasion,” said Conan, tapping his crystal champagne flute to mine.
“Thanks, I think.” I took of sip of the perfectly chilled champagne.
“There’s a dress code here to keep out the rabble. They wouldn’t have let you in tonight if you weren’t with me. You’ll have to dress appropriately next time.”
“Maybe you should’ve mentioned that there’s a dress code. I’ll leave some more appropriate clothes at work tomorrow.” He set me up for this. Does this snob get off on humiliating people?
“Not more appropriate clothes. An evening dress.” He opened his wallet and took out a store card for the Lawrence Boutique. “Here. Get some elegant dresses and put them on my charge account.”
“If you insist,” I said, slipping the card into my bag. Maybe bimbo Scarlet Walters will get a nice wardrobe out of this. It could be worse.
“I think you’d look splendid in a skin-tight evening dress with diamonds draped around your neck.”
“I don’t like diamonds. I prefer red rubies … and food.”
“I enjoy food too, although I’m a picky eater.”
I wanted to tell him that I’d noticed, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Here’s the waiter,” Conan said, putting the linen napkin in his lap.
“Excusez-moi. For the first course we have caviar, seared scallops, and smoked trout. Bon appétit,” said the waiter as he laid the large plates with tiny portions on the table.
When we were finished with the first course, Conan strolled around the courtyard and restaurant, continuing his sneaky inspection.
I stared down at the shining silverware—salad fork, dinner fork, dinner knife, and a steak knife. I touched the steak knife’s serrated blade. It was sharp, suited for slicing meat. I resisted the urge to stroke it.
The waiter brought the second course and refilled our champagne glasses just as Conan came back to the table. I poked the tiny piece of veal on my plate with my dinner fork.
“How did you first hear about Wilmar?” Conan asked as he took a bite of duck.
“Wilmar’s all over the news these days. I was looking for work with a good company and I checked the careers page” I knew some bosses liked to interrogate their staff outside work, so I was careful not to say too much. “How about you? Why did you join Wilmar?”
Conan looked down at the tablecloth and pressed his long fingers against the stem of his champagne flute. “Johnson Wilmar, the CEO, is my father.”
“No job interview for you then?” So the W in Conan W. Casey stands for Wilmar. No wonder he has access to these high-end places. He didn’t just work for Wilmar, he was heir to the empire.
“Not unless you count years of my life as a job interview. I did work in the security department for a few years before becoming CSO. My father didn’t offer me the position until I had my MBA.”
“Are you very close to your father?”
“We see each other at board meetings.” A fleeting look of sadness crossed his face. “I moved out of his house when I went to West Point … and I never lived there again.”
“Why did you choose West Point? Wouldn’t a normal coll
ege have been easier?”
“I was a wayward youth.” Conan twirled his glass and took a sip of champagne. “West Point gave me the structured environment and discipline I needed.”
I stared at the glass stem between his fingers. I began imagining what it would be like to be grabbed by those big, strong hands. You’re on a mission, not a date! I looked at the tiny champagne bubbles floating up to the surface in my glass, trying to refocus my mind. So he has a family.
“Do you spend holidays with your family?” I didn’t want to get drunk and risk forgetting anything, so I took a drink of water.
“Usually. What about you Scarlet? Is your family here?”
“No, they’re on the West Coast … in LA,” I lied.
“Do you go there often?”
“No. We don’t keep in contact.” I glanced down, my stepfather’s thundering voice invaded my thoughts.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks, but it’s okay.” I resisted the urge to play with my steak knife. “Is your family in New York?”
He took a deep breath and looked away. “Yes,” he finally said, looking at me with brooding, deep gray eyes.
Our conversation drifted to New York. He said he enjoyed living in the city, but sometimes the frantic pace got to him. I agreed and told him about a woman I’d seen that morning who was walking to the subway with a cup from Starbucks in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She ran into a lamppost and spilled her coffee all over her designer shoes. Conan chuckled and I was pleased that my silly little story made him laugh.
The waiter brought our dessert plates. We each had a bite-sized profiterole, the cutest little mille-feuille I’d ever seen, and a chocolate macaron.
“Tell me Scarlet, what do you do with your weekends?” asked Conan as he tossed his macaron in his mouth.
“Me? I’m a simple girl. I shop for groceries, chill, cook … the usual stuff. I lead a pretty simple life. It’s certainly not as busy as yours.”
“Are you seeing anyone?” He put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands, and leaned forward.
“That’s a very personal question.” My cheeks flushed. I can’t get too close to him. That would jeopardize the mission.
“Yes, it is. But I need to know if you’re seeing anyone who would use you to get to me.”
“I may be seeing someone, but it’s nothing serious.”
“I guess I’ll have to nose around.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I’m not seeing anyone.” The last thing I needed was Conan Casey digging into my life. If he found out about the White Queen she’d order me to kill him.
“Good.”
“This profiterole looks yummy.” I smiled, popped it into my mouth, and licked my lips. “Delicious.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed the menu. It’s getting late. I better get you home.”
Conan’s bodyguards escorted us out of the building and to the limo. They took notes as he told them about his inspection. The limo stopped in front of my apartment building.
“Here you are,” said Conan.
“Thank you. I had a nice time.”
“It was my pleasure. One of my guys will walk you to the door. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” I said as I stepped out of the limo.
I went inside and bolted up the stairs. I logged into the White Queen’s Wilmar database and entered all the intel I’d gathered on Conan.
Invitation
Conan arrived an hour later than usual on Monday morning. He stopped to talk to Kelvin before heading to his office.
“I’m impressed with you Scarlet,” said Conan as he approached my desk.
“How so?” He seemed to be cheerful, but that didn’t mean much given his mood swings.
“You’re efficient, you keep me organized, and you schedule my days the way I like them … important meetings in the morning and other engagements in the afternoon. You could turn out to be the best secretary I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you. Does that mean I’ll be getting a raise?”
“Perhaps in a few months, as long as you keep those tomatoes off my sandwiches and don’t screw anything else up.”
“I’ll do my best.” I smiled. Why did the jerk have to say that?
“What’s on the agenda for today?”
“Kelvin dropped these off earlier,” I said, pointing to a stack of files on my desk. “He needs you to get back to him by the end of business.
“Yes, he just told me. What else?”
“You have that meeting in Brooklyn in an hour and you better get going. The guys are waiting for you in the garage. The driver wants to leave as soon as you’re ready … traffic’s bad.”
“Do you have the file I need?”
“Right here.” I handed him the file. “See you later.”
“Oh, you have to accompany me to a new building on Friday night.”
“Okay.”
“Make sure you’re dressed appropriately this time,” he said smugly as he left.
“I’ll be dressed to the nines.” On your dime you creep. I bit my lip as anger simmered in my chest. I wanted to stomp him with my stilettos.
Conan passed Christophe on his way out. They glared at each other for a moment before Christophe turned and scrambled away.
* * *
I took a cab to the Lawrence Boutique on Madison Avenue during lunch. It was the type of place rich girls with huge trust finds shopped—the sort of place I couldn’t even look in when I was living penniless in the subway. I walked through the glass door and was met with the lovely fragrance of a fig-scented candle.
“May I help you find something?” asked the elegant saleswoman.
“I’m looking for an evening dress … something sexy and stylish.”
“Certainly, come this way.”
She took me to fitting room and brought five beautiful dresses for me to try on. They were made of the finest materials and fit me like handmade kid gloves.
“They’re all absolutely gorgeous on you. Which one will you take?” asked the saleswoman.
“These three,” I said, pointing to a red leather cocktail dress, a black velvet halter top gown, and a pale-pink silk chiffon gown with Swarovski crystals on the bodice.
“All three? Are you sure?”
“I am.” I handed her Conan’s charge card.
“Splendid,” said the saleswoman as her face lit up.
I knew the commission would probably pay her rent this month. She put the dresses in a white garment bag with a silk bow and placed the receipt in the pocket.
“Thank you very much, miss,” she said as I walked out the door.
* * *
After work on Friday I put on my skin-tight red leather cocktail dress and matching six-inch stilettos. The strapless dress accentuated my hourglass figure and showed off my cleavage. It was sexy, but not too short or revealing enough to be slutty. This should make him happy.
Conan wasn’t back in the office by seven and I was getting annoyed. My extension rang at quarter past.
“I’m waiting for you in front of the building,” said Conan.
One of his bodyguards opened the door of the limo and I got inside. We drove through a sea of yellow taxis to Greenwich Village. The limo pulled up to trendy hotel called Out.
“This is one of our recent acquisitions and we have a lot of on-site security,” said Conan. “I’ve visited a few times during the day, but I want to check that the nightshift boys are up to par.”
The security guard at the entrance nodded to Conan as we stepped inside. His bodyguards were close behind us and we all took the elevator up to the sixteenth floor.
The Out Lounge was an upscale bar and restaurant. Conan told the hostess his name and led me to the large terrace with panoramic views of Manhattan. His bodyguards waited inside, keeping a close eye on him.
I leaned on the railings along the edge of the terrace. The city lights were twinkling and the maze of narrow streets beneath us
was swarming with people and cars.
“Are you afraid to be alone with me?” I asked.
“No, but there are those who would kill me, given half a chance.”
“Why?” I instinctively bent down and felt the switchblade safely tucked in my sole. He had no idea that I could be a danger to him. If the White Queen gave the order, he’d be a goner.
“As the CSO of Wilmar, I’ve made enemies over the years. Other than that, we have security at our new buildings for obvious reasons.”
“The reasons aren’t so obvious to me.”
“This property probably won’t be demolished, but we’re anticipating large-scale resistance from a lot of community groups in the not too distant future. There are some major changes on the horizon. We’re looking into expanding operations and increasing acquisitions for development, but a few things have to happen first.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve said too much already. You’ll know soon enough.”
“If things are so dangerous, why are you out here in the open? I mean isn’t being in plain view on a terrace overlooked by other buildings risky?”
“I suppose it is, but there are risks in everything,” said Conan, looking over my shoulder at the city. “As you know, the bodyguards were Kelvin’s idea. I never would’ve agreed to them if he didn’t insist.”
“Do you think being with me is a risk?”
“Perhaps, but I negate risks. It’s my job.”
“I guess that’s why your father wanted you to be his CSO.”
“I didn’t start off as his CSO. He asked me to join Wilmar security after an attempt on his life. I had to work in the department and get my MBA before he offered me the big job.”
“Who tried to kill him? Why would anyone want to kill him?” I figured I knew the answer, but I wanted to see if I could find out more.
“Beats me, although I think his rivals are terrified of his ambition … his plans for total domination. Scarlet,” said Conan. He looked down at me. “With your brains, you could be anything you want to be. Why did you want to be my secretary?”
“Sometimes it’s easier to be told what to do than to make your own decisions. But that doesn’t mean I intend to be a secretary forever.” My life hadn’t been my own since the White Queen rescued me, and I was getting sick of it.
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