Promise (Venture Capitalist Book 2)

by Ainsley St Claire

  My cell phone rings and I answer with a cheerful “Hey, CeCe.”

  “Hi. Would you have any interest in joining the girls and me for drinks and dinner, and possibly dancing, on Saturday night?”

  I think about what I have in my closet and hesitate.

  CeCe jumps in. “Don’t cancel any dates for us. We can do this anytime.”

  “Dates?” I laugh. “I’d love to. I was just doing a mental checklist of what’s in my closet and think it’s a great excuse to go shopping.”

  “Sounds perfect. We’ll probably go to either Boulevard or Butler and the Chef. After, we may hit the Boom Boom Room. Greer loves to go dancing in the Castro, but we don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. Dinner is the best part.”

  “I can’t wait. See you Saturday.”

  After we disconnect, I put a quick call in to my personal shopper at Nordstrom. “Hey, Jennifer. I’m in need of a nice outfit for going out with some girlfriends on Saturday.” I share with her the restaurants we’re talking about and how dressy I’m looking to be.

  “You have such a perfect figure. I have a few ideas. Would you have time to come in, or I can bring it to your office. Whichever you prefer.”

  “It’s a crazy week. Can you come here in the late afternoon?”

  “I can move a few things around. How about this afternoon, say four?”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sara

  Jennifer arrives and is shown the private back conference room, the only room in our offices where you can flip a switch and all the glass walls become opaque.

  Jennifer is dressed impeccably. I’m sure it’s Armani, tailored to her tiny figure, and her hair is in a tight chignon. Giving me a nice hug, she stands back and eyes me carefully. “Sara, you have the most amazing figure. You’re too beautiful to be wearing black. It’s your safety color. I want to see you in colors that accentuate your beautiful blue-green eyes.” Turning to her rack of clothes, she reaches for a dress. “I love this light blue Marc Jacobs. I know it’s sleeveless, but with a wrap, you’ll be warm enough. The color matches your eyes.”

  I slip out of my suit and try the dress on, loving the scoop neckline and empire waist. The beaded fringe embellishments are stunning, and with a hint of gold and silver, it leaves the options open for jewelry. Looking me over carefully, she hands me a gold wrap on one side and silver on the other, then shows me a beautiful pair of silver Badgley Mishka embellished sandals.

  I twirl around, feeling pretty. “I love it,” I gush.

  Smiling, she urges me to consider the other items she’s brought. As I undress, she removes the most beautiful Calvin Klein light pink silk dress, sleeveless with a halter neckline and a full skirt. It’s sexy and makes me feel desirable. I imagine for a moment what it would be like to have Trey lift the skirt and do naughty things to me while I’m wearing this dress. I look in the mirror on Jennifer’s cart as she adjusts the tie in the back. “Oh, Jennifer, this looks amazing.”

  Still adjusting the dress to be sure it doesn’t pucker at my breast, she says, “I thought it would bring out the subtle pink in your skin. It’s very becoming on you.”

  I take one last glance at myself before removing the dress. Standing in my thong and no bra again, I watch as Jennifer takes a Giorgio Armani floral-jacquard dress from its bag alongside a black pair of Calvin Klein velvet sandals. The right foot has jeweled embellishments across the toes, and the left has them around the ankle. Complementing and sexy as hell.

  Again, I stare at myself in the mirror, noting that the high neck and cap sleeves are perfect for business-related events, but the knee-length hem shows off enough leg that I seem sexy.

  “I love it,” I tell her as I swish the skirt around and admire how the embellishments reflect the light.

  Smiling, she begins to unwrap another dress. “This is my favorite for you.” She carefully removes a medium gray silk Narciso Rodriguez sleeveless cowl-neck seamed handkerchief dress. I slip it over my head, the bias-cut, figure-skimming silhouette hugging every one of my curves. It’s simple yet elegant. I step into a silver Jimmy Choo sandal that adds three inches to my height and turn, admiring myself in the mirror.

  “I can’t decide.” Watching myself and seeing the advantages of each dress, I peek at her and whisper, “They’re all amazing.”

  “Well, I’ve also brought lingerie to match each dress, as well as jewelry.” She displays each dress side by side, the accompanying LaPerla, Aubade, Chantelle and Coco de Mer lingerie, and beautiful, simple pieces of jewelry.

  I wish this was an easy decision. I’ve tried all four outfits she brought and can’t decide which one I prefer. I rationalize that with all the parties in my future, I’ll wear them all eventually, but spending this kind of money is hard for me.

  San Francisco and the Bay Area are full of a lot of very wealthy people. Some live it out loud and are in the paper or regularly interviewed on television, living their lifestyle to the fullest, but that isn't me. It’s no secret that I’m a billionaire, but I work hard to stay below the radar. I spoil my foster parents when they allow me, but that’s about the extent of it.

  Sometimes I look at my bank statements and investment portfolio and I pinch myself. But it didn't happen by chance. I’ve worked my ass off for SHN. I’ve only been with the company for five years, but I was worth over a million dollars within the first one. And as the company was successful, my bank account grew and grew quickly because, as the first non-founding partner, my percentage of money earned by the firm was generous. Admittedly more than generous—I often earned millions each deal.

  I am the quintessential Silicon Valley success story, but my unassuming lifestyle ensures I remain out of the press, which is exactly how I want it. A lot of people work hard and don’t see this level of success, so I’m careful because I’ve lived on the streets, and I don’t want to do that again.

  “Jennifer, everything is stunning, and I can’t make up my mind. I have several parties and dinners coming up.” I run my fingers through my hair and finally say, “I’ll take it all.”

  Rarely have I seen Jennifer surprised, but her eyes grow wide before she gives me a big hug. “Come by the store. We also have some nice casual clothes that you’ll look stunning in. I’d like to get you in colors other than black.”

  I agree, and she waves goodbye.

  I choose the gray silk Narciso Rodriguez handkerchief dress for dinner with the girls. My hair has a nice ‘just had sex’ look, which is very easy for me to accomplish with all the natural curl in my hair and its stubbornness to being straight. I got a pedicure and manicure during the day and spoiled myself with a makeover at Sephora. This is such a luxury.

  Joining the girls at Boulevard for dinner, for once I actually feel like I belong. We all laugh and giggle the night away.

  Hadlee turns to me and asks, “Sara, are you dating anyone?”

  “I was,” I reply wistfully. “But between both of us having crazy work hours, it didn’t work out. Mostly because he was married.”

  “What a douchebag!” CeCe seethes.

  I sigh. “Tell me about it. I didn’t even find out until we’d been together for six months. I see him through work occasionally, which makes me uneasy.”

  “It goes to show how women in this city allow themselves to be treated because eligible straight men are so rare. Good for you for having the self-respect to tell him to shove off.” Greer pats my arm.

  CeCe declares, “We’re brilliant, beautiful and independent women. While we don’t need men, w—”

  Greer turns to Hadlee. “Oh no. Here she goes.”

  Peering at the group, she insists, “Sara needs to hear this. An independent woman needs a good friend, a good bottle of liquor, and if she wants companionship, she should buy a dog. If she wants sex, buy a good vibrator.”

  We all break out laughing. At the table next to us is a couple who seem like they’re on an awkward first date. She’s chuckling a
long, and he’s eyeing us with disgust.

  As the laughter dies down, CeCe leans in and asks, “You do have a good vibrator, don’t you?”

  I must be beet red as I stammer, “Ye-n-n—”

  “Don’t embarrass her, CeCe. She doesn’t know us well enough,” Greer warns her.

  “As long as we don’t use them together, I’m fine. I just wasn’t prepared for that question.” Giggling, I share, “I do have one, only I’m not sure where it is right now.”

  “CeCe has a connection,” Hadlee assures me. “She’ll take you shopping. It’s high-end, and you’ll definitely find the right toy.”

  Fanning myself, I chuckle. “You girls are a lot of fun. Thank you so much for inviting me along.”

  The conversation turns to a much tamer topic of work. Or so I thought. I’m surprised to learn that Greer was working for one of our clients, helping to prepare to take them public. She’s smooth and competent in an area I don’t completely understand.

  “The head of marketing took a SnapPic of his dick and sent it to half the company,” she sneers. “We’re for sale. What the fuck was he thinking?”

  “Isn’t he the guy who keeps talking about a pivot?” CeCe giggles.

  Stunned, I ask, “Well, was it a Gherkin or a Cornichon?”

  At that point we’re so loud, the manager comes over to speak to us.

  “We’re so sorry for disrupting all the other patrons,” CeCe apologizes. “We’ll be quieter. We’ve learned our good friend Sara”—she motions to me—“broke up with her boyfriend who hid the fact that he was married for six months.”

  Turning to me, the manager says, “Honey, I recently learned my boyfriend is married, too. I’m sending you all a round of drinks. Enjoy, but maybe not so loud?”

  The bill for dinner was over two hundred and fifty dollars each, and for once my frugal ways don’t mind. I had a nice time, and it was fun.

  As we walk out, CeCe asks, “Are you heading to dinner with my parents tomorrow night?”

  “I sure am.”

  “I’m going, too. Can I give you a ride?”

  “That would be perfect. I’m a bit directionally challenged, particularly in your parents’ neighborhood.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up about four thirty.”

  “I’ll text you my address. See you then.”

  As I ride home in the cab, I notice I missed a text message. It’s Henry.

  Henry: You look stunning tonight in that gray dress. Can I come over tonight and peel you out of it, then lick you until you come all over my tongue?

  My heart races, but rather than respond, I start to think. I didn’t see him. How does he know what I’m wearing? His inability to comprehend my lack of interest is beginning to really wear on my nerves.

  With a big sigh, I erase the message and try to put him out of my mind. I had a fun night, and I’m not going to let him ruin it.

  I wake early and do about three hours of work before I start to prepare for my dinner at the Arnaults’. I want to appear casual yet sexy enough to appeal—at least in my mind—to Trey. I think I changed twenty times trying to choose the right outfit. Finally I go with a tight-fitting pair of jeans, a cute pink floral-print blouse with bell sleeves and a pair of light pink Tory Birch ballet flats.

  I decide on a natural curl in my hair and minimal makeup.

  My cell phone pings at four thirty, and I run out the door. CeCe gives me a big hug, and we talk nonstop all the way out of the city to her parents’ house. As we pull into the gated property, the Spanish-style home is deceiving in its size. From the front, it seems like a large home, but once you get inside, you realize it’s huge.

  A pack of dogs greets us in the foyer, and I get a bit nervous. Seeing my trepidation, CeCe calls to her mom, “Can you please get the dogs?” Her mom and a woman, who I assume is the housekeeper, come racing out of the back of the house and get the dogs moved to another room. CeCe gives me a reassuring squeeze and says, “The dogs can frighten me sometimes, too.”

  I smile at her, grateful for the encouragement. As we cross the threshold into the house, I spot him. Trey. My heart skips a beat and my pulse quickens. He’s handsome in his blue and white knit Ralph Lauren shirt, khaki pants and boat shoes. It’s as if he stepped out of a Ralph Lauren print advertisement. My heart flutters when he smiles at me.

  Cameron asks me a few questions about a work deal he wants to discuss with Charles tonight, and before I can even get a drink, we’re in deep conversation. I’m trying to track Trey, but when I glance in his direction, he’s no longer standing in my sight line. I can’t help but be disappointed.

  Suddenly, Trey is at my elbow and says to Cameron, “Do you mind if I steal her away?”

  Cameron laughs. “No, not at all. We’re talking about work. It can wait.”

  Trey walks me over to the bar. “You don’t have a drink. What can I make you? We have a bit of most liquors and mixers.” Conspiratorially, he adds, “Before you say ‘a glass of wine,’ I will tell you that we’ll drink wine with dinner. This is a pre-dinner drink.”

  Trey is good at putting me at ease. I can see why people flock to him. “Okay then, how about a Moscow Mule?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Pulling out a nice large glass from above the mini freezer behind the bar, he muddles sugar and fresh mint. “How was your week?”

  “Busy. And yours?”

  He continues pouring the contents of his mix into the glass, then adds the ginger beer and a brand of vodka I’m not familiar with. “Mine was also busy. I run my dad’s company these days, and while it’s one of the oldest companies in The Valley, our stockholders still expect great returns on Wall Street.”

  We fall into effortless conversation until everyone arrives and it’s loud and full of activity. The housekeeper rings a bell and instructs us to have a seat at the dining room table. As we make our way in, I feel Trey’s hand on my elbow as he guides me to a seat, then takes the one beside me. My heart races because he wants to sit with me, and my stomach flip-flops. I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat a thing with all the heat he radiates.

  Dinner conversation bounces from politics, to football, to gossip in The Valley. I’m often too distracted by Trey’s cologne to pay attention to the conversation, but we have a wonderful time enjoying each other’s company.

  Trey turns to me. “So Sara, what do you do outside of SHN and volunteering at teen homeless shelters?”

  I sit back in my chair and glance around, but no one is paying attention to us. “I don’t volunteer these days. I don’t have much free time outside of work. SHN eats up most of my days. What about you?”

  “Ah, a workaholic. I used to be that way when I first took over Sandy Systems, but outside of work, I ride my road bike. I love Muir Woods.”

  “Oh, Muir Woods is a favorite of mine. It’s so green and lush.” Turning to face him fully, I say, “If I remember correctly, you volunteered after the earthquake in Haiti. Do you speak French?”

  “I do, but only well enough to get me into trouble. I’m impressed. Most people don’t remember that I did that.”

  I cringe internally. I’ve shown him that I researched him. Why would I do that? In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. “What was it like being there?”

  His eyes light up and he becomes very animated. I’m not sure if he talks for an hour or for only fifteen seconds, too mesmerized by all that he shares. “Haiti is a beautiful country. It’s so disappointing that the corruption is so high. My cousin and I arrived three days after the quake with the Red Cross. I was stunned when we saw people digging and pulling people out of the rubble, still alive at almost thirty days after the quake. The people had nothing, but they would give up their own food because we came to help.”

  In shock, I ask, “Did you let them?”

  “No way. They were starving, and we wanted them to eat. The mothers would pass up food for themselves so their kids would have extra. It was heartbreaking.”

  Looking at the group a
round the table, I see everyone is listening to Trey share his stories of Haiti. His mother, Margo, says, “We were so worried about him and Jed being in Haiti. He tried to check in with us regularly, but we were jaded by the news coverage, which of course was all negative.”

  “Trey, you should share the pictures from your trip with everyone.” Turning to us, Emerson says, “He really captured the beauty of the island. He’s such a talented photographer.”

  As dinner breaks up, the partners head off to Charles’s office. Trey joins us, and when we arrive, another man is already there waiting.

  We all sit down, and as Charles serves us his cognac, he makes introductions, “This is Jim Pearson. He’s the best private investigator in The Valley and is great at sniffing out moles.” As I take my first sip of the deep dark liquid, it rolls over my tongue, and I’m sure it tastes better this week than it did last. “And I’ve asked Trey here to join us. He runs Sandy Systems and has some great experience in this area from when Pineapple Systems decided they were going to steal some technology from us.” Trey sits on the arm of my Queen Anne chair and nods to everyone.

  Jim is a former San Francisco police officer and FBI agent, leaving Dillon and Mason visibly impressed. He shares with us what we can expect this week, and he tells me that he’ll be in contact with Cameron and Emerson to work through what we’ve done so far.

  As he leaves, we walk through our four successes and the list of upcoming possibilities. Charles has about a dozen that he wants to have our team start doing research on. He knows there are some duds in the group, but he also knows several of the founders of the others and will make calls to run interference.

  We talk about what’s on the horizon to go public, which I’ve been thinking about for a while, and I throw out to the group, “I was at dinner last night with Greer Ford. She was telling me about some of the work she did with PeopleMover and with Tsung Software. She thought some of the work she was doing was going to make a difference in stock pricing.” I turn to look at Dillon. “You’re the finance guy here. Would you agree?”