Oh, great. Something big had gone wrong with the report. Everything appeared to have gone too smoothly. She had been handling the books for Another Chance for the past five years, and this was the first time it went off without a hitch. Lizette should have known better. She knew it. This was going to be an all-nighter. She knew whether she had plans or not, her answer needed to be the same. “No, my evening is free. Is there a problem with the month-end report? I will be happy to stay as long as it takes to correct whatever issue there is.” Lizette took her job seriously—too seriously, some had told her. Accurate accounting was the foundation of a company, she thought.
Elaine grabbed more tissues just in time for a sneezing fit that seemed to go on forever. Seeing her so ill, Lizette relented and thought, Whatever she needs, I’m happy to help her. Whatever the issue with the report was, Lizette was confident she could handle it on her own.
“No, no, the report was fine. I need you to do something else for me, for the company.”
Lizette could not even guess what that could be. All she’d ever done was accounting but she was a team player, so whatever office work needed to be done, she would try her best. “Of course, I am an excellent typist. Did you need me to fill in for your administrative assistant while she is out sick too? You know I’m more than happy to do whatever I can.”
“Thank you, Lizette, I do know and appreciate your dedication. However, it’s not her role I need you to fill tonight. It’s mine.”
Hers? she thought. As CEO? I would not feel comfortable having to make all those critical decisions. I like numbers; they’re factual, they don’t lie, they’re black and white, no gray areas. And yet, it was Friday night; there really couldn’t be anything that would come up that couldn’t wait until Monday. She could do this. All she’d need to do was be on call for anything critical. Then it hit her: Maybe there was something critical going on she wasn’t aware of. Maybe there was a fire in the community or something. Lizette didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“There is an extremely important event I was supposed to attend this evening. Obviously I am too ill to go.”
That was clear from the moment I entered the office, but what does this have to do with me? Lizette wondered.
“I need you to go in my place,” Elaine continued, pausing to sneeze again. “To represent me, represent us, Another Chance.”
Lizette hoped Elaine couldn’t see the shock and horror that was surely written all over her face. Even though she and Elaine were similar in some ways, the major difference was Elaine carried herself with such confidence she could walk into any room and hold her ground on any topic even with the most influential people. That was not something Lizette enjoyed or was interested in doing. “What? Oh, no, I couldn’t . . . I can’t . . . you know I don’t . . .” Lizette didn’t even realize she was stumbling over her words. She did not want to attend such a high-profile Who’s Who event. That was the last place she wanted to be.
“Lizette, there is no one else who can do this for me tonight. You know my admin Jill is home sick, and the rest of the team is on vacation or also out sick. We need you to do this.” After another sneezing fit, she continued, “I need you to do this. You’re head of the accounting department. I don’t have to tell you what attending an event like this can do for our association. It’s a great opportunity to get our name out there. The people attending could provide exactly the type of funding we need to continue. Normally we could never afford to attend, but an old colleague of mine, Mr. Scott, is the chairman of the event and was kind enough to sponsor a ticket for me. Someone has to represent us. We won’t get another opportunity like this.”
Lizette knew it was true. All the recent cuts in government funding had hit nonprofit organizations like Another Chance extremely hard. Right now they were basically running on personal donations and barely making it. It was getting crucial to find a corporate sponsor; the future of their organization was at risk.
“It’s one night. All the arrangements have already been made. The dress is being delivered to your home at six o’clock. The limo driver will pick you up at seven thirty, and Mr. Scott has been told you will be representing me—I mean, us—tonight.”
As though Elaine noticed the writing all over her face, she continued. “Lizette, this is not only an important charity event, it’s our best shot at networking with people who can provide the kind of financial support we need. I would not ask you to do this if I didn’t know you would represent us well.” In a softer voice, she went on. “We’ve known each other for several years now. I know you can do this. Do what comes naturally. Talk about what you believe in. Talk about the business and all that we do. Tell them about some of our successes. I know you are passionate about what we do here, so it’ll be easy. You’ll see.” With a sincere smile she said, “You may even enjoy yourself so much you’ll wish you could do it all the time.”
Doubt it, Lizette thought. Yet there was no way to get out of tonight after the speech she’d just received. She knew Elaine was not asking this of her as a friend; she was asking as the CEO. When the CEO asks for a favor, especially one of this magnitude, you don’t really have the option to decline. “Thank you. I will do my best,” she said with a forced smile.
“I need to get to bed. Thank you for filling in for me tonight.” Ms. Manning’s eyes traveled over Lizette’s very conservative business attire as she said, “Better get going, Lizette. You have a lot to do before seven thirty.”
Don’t remind me, she thought as she rose and left the office. She felt bad Elaine was ill, but for once she wished there were problems with the month-end report. At least she knew she could fix that. An event like tonight’s was something she wasn’t comfortable with, something she had been able to avoid since her college days—until now.
Chapter Two
Everything had gone as arranged. The dress Elaine had delivered arrived at six o’clock and the limo had shown up promptly at seven thirty. Lizette didn’t know how she’d managed it, but here she was, about to enter a ballroom filled with some of the richest people on the East Coast. This event was certainly going to be filled with what she thought of as the three B’s: big business, big money, and big egos.
What am I doing here? She stood at the entrance, looking over the other guests. The word wow slipped past her lips. The gathering looked like something she would read about or see in a movie, not something a person like her would ever actually attend. She was positive there wasn’t a woman there who was wearing an off-the-rack dress. Between makeup, hair, and clothes, it looked like they were attending the Oscars.
Lizette recalled the last time she had been to a black-tie event. It had been her cousin's wedding, and the department store dress and costume jewelry she had worn that day did not compare to what she was wearing now. Elaine definitely knew how to dress. She also had the confidence to pull it off. The red dress she had sent Lizette was elegant with a touch of sexy. It screamed, Look at me! Maybe other women felt comfortable dressing like this, but Lizette did not.
Earlier she had applied a touch of makeup and decided to wear her long straight chestnut hair down. She could feel its silkiness as it flowed freely against her shoulders and bare back. “I can do this,” she said aloud. Self-consciously she smoothed a hand down the dress, which clung to her every curve. This is what they mean by the phrase “fits like a glove.” She chuckled nervously to herself.
As she contemplated turning around and getting right back in the limo, a woman dressed in a stunning black dress approached her and said, “You must be Lizette Burke. Ms. Manning informed me you would be attending in her place this evening. I have taken the liberty of placing your name in the raffle already, so now all you need to do is mingle and enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you,” Lizette said, but thought, Like that’s going to happen.
As quickly as she had appeared, the woman vanished into the sea of black tuxedos and lavish gowns. Slowly Lizette wandered among the other guests, not exactly sure where to start in ter
ms of working the room. Then she remembered the envelope the limo driver had given her during the drive there. Elaine had thought of everything. Or more likely Jill had pulled it together. Between them they never missed a thing. The envelope contained pictures of the most significant guests attending the event, with a note saying, Start here, work your way down. Remember, we are all counting on you!
Not wanting to forget anyone, she had placed the pictures in her purse in case she needed a refresher. Scanning the crowd, she spotted number fifteen on the list. He was short, bald, and about seventy. From his picture he had looked like the most approachable person on the list. But when Lizette approached him she noticed he was with a tall, very attractive companion, who was laughing at everything he was saying. Maybe he had a great sense of humor, but the woman was blatantly flirting with him, and he was eating it up. She definitely would not make a friend if she interrupted their little party to ask for a donation.
As she continued to scan the room she located number twelve on the list. He was average height, average looks, and, at the moment, not speaking to anyone. A good place to start, she thought, and began to make her way through the crowd toward him. She was almost there when her hands started to tremble.
Think about something else . . . like what . . . ah . . . oh, the raffle. I like raffles. Well, if I’m lucky, they will raffle off a nice bottle of champagne, she thought. Then softly she said, “I think I am going to need a drink to get through tonight.”
“I’d second that,” a soft deep voice said from behind her.
Oh, my. Totally embarrassed that she had spoken loudly enough to be overheard, she turned to apologize. Not realizing how close he’d been standing to her, she turned to find herself face to face with a tall male. And what a handsome face it was: such strong features, framed by jet-black hair, with eyes so dark they could devour a person. Everything about him screamed Powerful Businessman, and one not to be messed with. Her mind raced through the pictures. Surely someone like him had to be on the list, but she couldn’t place him. Thank God, since she never could have willed herself to ask him for a donation, no matter how badly Another Chance needed money.
Lizette opened her mouth to say something, but as she did someone bumped her from behind just enough to move her forward. Those inches were all that had been between her and this handsome stranger. Now they were not only face-to-face, but her breasts were pressed against his chest and her hands were gripping his shoulders to steady herself. He had brought an arm around her waist and held her closely, trying to steady her. Normally she would have regained her composure instantly, however, her unsteadiness wasn’t from lack of balance, it was thanks to the tingling sensation that coursed through her as his strong, warm hand touched the bare skin revealed by her open-back dress. Their eyes met for only a few seconds, but drew them even closer as if they were alone. Lizette could feel his muscles tense beneath his jacket as his thumb gently, sensually, stroked her bare skin on her lower back. She wanted to close her eyes and enjoy this moment in his arms—forget where she was and why she was there.
The intense moment was broken when as she heard a young man’s voice behind her saying, “Oh, sorry, excuse me, hadn’t seen you there.” After the waiter offered his apology he quickly brushed by again.
A sudden feeling of awkwardness rose inside her as she realized she was still in the arms of this stranger and had made no attempt to pull away. Reluctantly, she slowly began to step back. “I . . . I’m sorry, I . . . I didn’t realize you were so close,” she said, her voice shaky from the encounter. Don’t stammer, Lizette told herself.
“Not a problem, Miss,” he said in his husky voice.
Offering her hand to him while trying to regain her composure, she said, “Burke. Lizette Burke.”
Taking her slender hand in his, the man said, “Jon Vinchi. It was my pleasure bumping into you, Miss Burke.”
The combination of his double meaning and her own thoughts brought a blush of pink to her cheeks as she removed her hand from his and clutched her purse ever so tightly. Stop thinking of his strong, warm hands, broad shoulders, and the rippling muscles sadly hidden beneath that tuxedo jacket. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Vinchi,” she said in the most professional tone she could muster at the moment. Small talk, something, anything . . . “Do you attend many of these events?” she asked. Of course he does. These events are full of the Who's Who, the cream of society, and he definitely fits that bill. She preferred a man who dressed more casually. Picturing what he would look like in jeans and a fitted T-shirt that showed off what promised to be a rock-hard chest only made it worse. You’re here on business, Lizette, she reminded herself. Focus.
“No, I don’t normally attend these things. I am here tonight fulfilling a business obligation.”
Odd answer, she thought. Since he wasn’t in any of the photos she had been provided, maybe his boss had sent him as well. “My boss, Ms. Manning, was ill and could not attend this evening. So I’m also here tonight fulfilling a business obligation. Seems we have something in common,” she said.
“So it seems, Ms. Burke.”
Mr. Vinchi was staring at her. Make small talk, she reminded herself. “I don’t know how people do this all the time,” Lizette said as she glanced around the crowd. “Who wouldn’t rather be soaking in a bubble bath than be here?” Her hand flew to cover her lips as she realized what she had said. What’s wrong with me? That’s not small talk! She reprimanded herself. Pull yourself together.
A smile crossed his face and his eyes softened as he said, “The thought of that is appealing. However, I believe we are both stuck here for the evening. May I take a rain check?”
“It wasn’t a . . .” She stumbled over her words as her cheeks turned from pink to red in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to . . . what I meant was . . . well, it didn’t come out exactly the way I meant it. I wanted to say, I am sure there are places we both wish we could be besides here.”
“Miss Burke, relax. I was only joking.”
“Yes, yes, of course, I knew you were,” she said, but there was something in his eyes and the way he was looking at her that told her otherwise.
“Would you care to join me for a glass of champagne?”
Lizette paused, debating his offer. Tempting, but no, she thought.
As though he felt her hesitation, Jon stepped even closer. “I don’t bite,” he whispered in her ear so no one could overhear.
His hot breath sent a chill down her spine as she thought, How about a nibble? How she wished her body did not betray her private thoughts as her cheeks flushed again. She prided herself on self-control in all situations, but sadly she was losing the battle at the moment. It’s not like she hadn’t talked to handsome men before. What was it about him that drove her to such sweet thoughts? Was it his voice, his eyes, his rippling muscles? She was sure it was the combination of it all, but this wasn’t the time or place to analyze the depth of this sexual attraction. She was here on business, and she was sure this wasn’t what Elaine had had in mind when she’d said she should enjoy herself. No longer trusting her voice, she merely nodded. Jon offered her his arm; without hesitation, she gently linked her arm in his. She was going to mingle later.
They made their way to a quieter spot in the ballroom. Was it her imagination or were the men and women they passed trying to catch Jon’s attention? She stole a quick look at him, but he seemed oblivious to the crowd as he guided them away from the crowd of people, far enough away to be able talk privately, but not far enough to be considered private. He motioned for a waiter carrying a tray of champagne, who quickly delivered their drinks.
As they stood together, Lizette thought even though Jon was not on the target list, it couldn’t hurt to practice the pitch she had written while waiting for her dress to arrive. “Mr. Vinchi, have you—?”
“Please, call me Jon.”
“Okay . . . Jon, have you ever heard of Another Chance?”
“No, I don’t believe I have.”
&
nbsp; This didn’t surprise Lizette, as the company was not well known outside of Chepachet, Rhode Island, where they were located. She knew asking for a donation wasn’t going to be easy; she was out of her comfort zone. She hoped her voice wasn’t betraying the fear she felt as she began her first attempt at finding a sponsor. “I am here tonight representing Another Chance. We step in where government assistance cuts off. When someone has exhausted all other avenues for aid, they come to us. Last year there was an apartment house that burnt down. None of the residents had apartment insurance. That meant all four families in the building lost everything. We were able to assist alongside the Red Cross and make sure these families didn’t end up homeless. But over the past few years, the government funding for such needs has been cut almost in half, which has caused the need in the community to almost double.”
Jon nodded as though he understood her dilemma, but he said nothing.
“This has put a tremendous financial strain on our organization and others like us.”
“I’m sure it has. Times are difficult. And it sounds like Another Chance is trying to make a difference.”
“Yes, we are,” Lizette said proudly. Here comes the tough part! she thought. “Well, that brings me to why I am here. We are a not-for-profit agency and we depend highly on the generosity of donations. Tonight, I’m hoping to either get enough donations or land a corporate sponsor so we can continue our services in the community.” Pausing once again, she continued nervously, “I . . . I was wondering if you could maybe mention Another Chance to your boss and explain everything we do. Maybe he would be interested in making a donation?” she asked hopefully.
“You would like me to ask my boss for a donation?” Jon seemed intrigued by her request.
“Sorry, I hate putting you in that position. I understand how you feel. I hate asking for donations too. Please tell him we would appreciate anything he can do. And if he’s not in a financial position to help us, we understand.”
The Billionaire's Secret (Betting on You Series: Book One) Page 2