Just Marry Me Already (BWWM Romance Book 1)

by Ayo Campbell

  Chapter 2

  “Well, tell me what all the fuss is about,” said Hallie, when she finally sat down with Valerie in her office.

  Valerie’s office, that is, not Hallie’s. A junior manager, recently promoted, didn’t really rate an office. Almost nobody except Valerie had an actual office, and they didn’t have a cubicle culture. All of them were expected to chip in everywhere, including Valerie, who waitressed at events when she had to, still.

  “Aldous Banks is… Well, he’s demanding and he’s compelling.”

  Valerie was fretting.

  “That’s fine, isn’t it? We’ve worked for demanding clients before. Some of them are real jerks and never satisfied, but nobody’s ever asked for a refund. Even those events, we’ve got more jobs out of them. So why are you so stressed out?”

  “No, he doesn’t seem like a jerk. Well, not that way. He has an issue with our serving staff.”

  Hallie frowned.

  “What’s his problem? We have never had any complaints about that. Our serving staff is absolutely incredible.”

  “He thinks they’re not… appealing enough.”

  Hallie froze. She knew, because she had done the profiles, that her own profile was in that folder, too.

  “Servers are not on the menu, and they’re all perfectly presentable.”

  “He has to consider the aesthetics, he said. And they’re not pretty enough, in his own words.”

  Hallie’s dark eyes flashed fire.

  “Oh, I’ll give him aesthetics, all right,” said Hallie, fuming. “He means he wants tall, skinny, white women with blonde hair and blue eyes to do all the serving.”

  “Well,” hedged Valerie, “he did bring up the possibility of getting in touch with a modeling agency and hiring from there for serving staff.”

  “And those starved gazelles are going to have the stamina to keep up an entire event? Has he any idea how much strength and… and equanimity you need to deal with a bunch of entitled, spoiled rich brats who think they just need to snap their fingers and we’re there?”

  Valerie bit back a grin.

  “Like the equanimity you’re showing right now.”

  Hallie pulled it in and took a couple of deep breaths.

  “Well, you told him to take a hike, right?”

  “Not quite…”

  “What?”

  Hallie was aghast. She had done an event for a modeling agency. There was no way she could make such a high profile event work with a serving staff of models!

  “Well, I need you to meet him and convince him that all our staff can be depended on to be perfectly presentable and, you know, not ruin any aesthetic.”

  Hallie had thought she was aghast before, but no. Now she was aghast.

  “You want me to meet a superficial playboy billionaire who thinks he owns people and convince him to not hire underfed models to be serving staff at the event.”

  Valerie considered it.

  “That sounds about right,” she agreed.

  “Bloody hell,” muttered Hallie and slumped in her chair.

  “Why can’t you do it?”

  Hallie hated that it came out as a whine.

  “Because you’re running point on this event, and I need you to take care of it.”

  Hallie angled a skeptical look at Valerie.

  “You want me to run this one? Without interfering in it at all?”

  “I shall be supervising, of course.”

  Of course she would be. That meant that Hallie would run the event and get blame where it was due, while Valerie would get the credit.

  No, she was being unfair, she chided herself. Val gave credit where it was due, when it was due.

  She just didn’t want to deal with an obnoxious billionaire.

  Came with the territory, she reminded herself. She had worked very hard for her promotion, and every penny of that hard-won raise was going towards the deposit on her dream house, though she had yet to find it.

  “Fine.”

  The look in her eyes worried Valerie a bit.

  “Hallie, you know how important this event is…”

  Hallie laughed.

  “I know, and I don’t want to blow my bonus, so I will play nice. I promise.”

  Hallie, of course, had to get in touch with an assistant, who put her in touch with an admin, and finally gave her an appointment. The guy was just too much trouble, thought Hallie. Well, the money would be worth it, she decided.

  Just to cover all her bases, she got all their regulars to give her their best candid shots, just to be sure that she had something to show him if he started anything about serving staff’s looks again. As for herself – she gave herself twenty minutes to tinker. She knew exactly what to do with makeup, and how to choose her clothes.

  Red, because with her skin, red was excellent. Red silk blouse, cream skirt and cream jacket, she decided. She was tempted to go with red lipstick, too, but chose to play up her lovely almond-shaped eyes instead and leave her lips almost nude.

  By the time she made her way to his offices, she was confident. Even the imposing building in which he had his offices – he had two floors, apparently, and she wondered if a wine company that seemed to have made the most of the online boom needed so much physical room – couldn’t quite dampen that confidence.

  She was going to be professional, pretty, precise and perfect. She was going to make sure that she got them the job.

  She kept that up while she was waiting for him – a good twenty minutes past the time she was supposed to meet him, while the skinny assistant gave her what looked like the evil eye. Finally, she announced, in a snooty voice with a terrible British accent, “Mr. Banks will see you now.”

  Keeping her smile firmly in place, Hallie walked into Aldous Banks’s office.

  He sure had some view. That was her first thought as she looked out over the Manhattan city scape through the glass windows behind him.

  Her second thought was… Well, she didn’t quite get to a second thought. Aldous Banks was handsome in his photos, but he packed an incredible punch in person. She could practically feel the charm pouring off him. He was in his shirtsleeves, and she almost stepped back from the blast of energy that was his smile.

  That chin dimple and that smile – the combination should be registered as a legal weapon. That was her first clear thought.

  “Miss Holt?”

  Hallie snapped herself back. Her spine stiffened.

  She had obviously suffered from some kind of altitude sickness that resulted in momentary lack of judgment in that skyscraper, because she didn’t fall for slick good looks and even slicker charm. She had very little respect for people who treated others without respect. Turning down perfectly competent and truly excellent staff because you don’t think they could model haute couture or be on the Sports Illustrated cover showed complete arrogance and she did not like arrogance.

  So her voice was ice cold and her tone sharp.

  “Mr. Banks. I’m from Serving Excellence, and I hope to allay all your concerns regarding the event today.”

  “Well, let’s see if you can do that, Miss Holt,” said Banks with a lazy drawl that put her back up even more.

  She breezed through the details that Valerie had told her he needed, and finally got to the portfolio of staff.

  “Now, Mr. Banks, I believe you have concerns about the aesthetic appeal of our serving staff.”

  “I recommended hiring models from an agency. I can recommend a couple of good ones.”

  Oh, she just bet he could. She just bet. He probably got all his arm and eye candy from them.

  “I would be happy to. However, the median age of the models available for such an event from the agency is eighteen. They also have absolutely no experience in catering. They also, and this is of particular concern, don’t have the endurance or the stamina required to do this job. I interviewed them this morning, and they all claimed to be perishing with hunger. They were also quite aghast at the idea of handli
ng food. I think hiring models would be a mistake. We cannot afford to have them make mistakes. That would be far more disastrous than the slight hit your aesthetics might take from not having models wait on your guests. I also have a new portfolio of headshots, and a couple of wardrobe options that will blend in with the décor. We’ll be hardly noticed. Just our service.”

  After the speech, she took a deep breath. Banks looked amused.

  She was not amused.

  “All right, Miss Holt, you raise a few valid concerns. If it will be strenuous work…”

  “It will be, Mr. Banks. I need to have experienced people who know exactly what to do, when to do it. Models are trained to be visible. Catering staff need to be the opposite.”

  Aldous Banks looked at her curiously. She wished she could read what was going on behind those blue eyes, but she had no idea.

  “Fine, Miss Holt. I will bow to your superior judgment on the matter. Kindly send me profiles of all members of the staff – including chefs.”

  “Will you be requiring a bartender, as well? I’m told you will be taking care of the wines and all spirits.”

  “I shall be tending the bar myself, but I will need somebody to take over at a moment’s notice, yes.”

  “You?”

  He grinned. Hallie had to admit that if smiles could save the world, his was the world’s best shot.

  “I assure you, I am quite adequate, Miss Holt. I have… experience, endurance and stamina.”

  She almost blushed. The double entendre was thinly veiled. She struggled not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

  “Do you have any more misgivings about the event? If you’re confident that we can handle it, I have the contract here for you to sign.”

  He sat back and looked at her. She supposed many people would call that a mischievous look. She found it insolent.

  “Can you tend a bar?”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “I can fill in, yes, but I would prefer to hire somebody who has a background in flair bartending. It’s short notice for him, but The Specialist has already been contacted and the date of your event has been blocked.”

  She saw a flicker of what she thought might have been admiration in his eyes. Everybody wanted to book him, and anybody throwing a party knew that.

  She shrugged it off. She didn’t care if he admired her. It had nothing to do with her. He was a client, and she would do his event. She would do it well enough that he would hire them again. That was her goal.

  All polite courtesy, she wished him a good day and she left, hauling all her stuff along. At least she hadn’t had to bring samples this time. He had already okayed all of them. At least he had good sense if he agreed with her menu suggestions. That was not quite a redeeming quality, but it made working with him a bit better.

  To be honest, he hadn’t quite been as bad as she’d been expecting. It had gone quite well. Val would be pleased, she thought, as she made her way back to Soho again. Now she just needed to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect, and then they could start counting their chickens.

  She had looked up his involvement in the social circuit and found that he threw parties of all kinds very often. He could be income for years if they did this right. She was determined to make it absolutely perfect.

  So Hallie worked like a maniac for a week to get it all just right. On the day, she had everybody counting down like they were preparing for a satellite launch. She didn’t think there was any special op in the world that was done as meticulously as that little party.

  She had got in touch with the hotel in TriBeCa where it was being held and coordinated on the décor. She'd had a few excellent ideas. If she wanted to go into complete event management, she felt she could do quite a good job.

  At seven in the evening, everything was done. She had personally prepared half the desserts, and she knew they were divine. The food was wonderful. The drinks weren’t hers, but her bartender was ready and waiting. He was as good as entertainment.

  There was a DJ and a string quartet. The string quartet would play for the first couple of hours, when everything had to be formal. She assumed much of the wheeling and dealing would be done then.

  By ten, everybody was supposed to loosen up and the DJ was supposed to take over. It did all sound quite excellent. She felt a small twinge of uncharacteristic envy. She would’ve loved to attend the party as a guest.

  Not her place, and she would have been bored among all those vapid people, she told herself. If they were his friends, they were bound to be vapid.

  She hadn’t talked to the great Aldous Banks all week, of course. She had dealt with his admin, for whom she had developed a good deal of respect. Working with Layla was quite the experience. She had extremely high standards, and she knew she had impressed her by meeting them.

  By eight, she was chewing her fingernails. She was nervous. She had never been that nervous about a job before.

  Everything was perfect, she knew it, but she had butterflies in her stomach that simply wouldn’t settle down.

  She briefed her team. Not models, thank heavens, but her team. She could count on every single one of them. Valerie and she were coordinating everything together. The event was just too big for her to run alone.

  The Specialist was set up. The string quartet was playing, and guests were trickling in.

  “Show time. Let’s be invisible and keep all glasses filled, and all bellies happy.”

  In half an hour, she knew that everything was going absolutely perfectly. So why didn’t the butterflies in her stomach settle? She caught a glimpse of Aldous Banks and she felt them turn into a stampede of wild bulls.

  He looked incredible in his tux. Any woman could be forgiven for being faced with a moment of completely blinding lust at the sight of him.

  Deliberately, Hallie turned away, spotting wrinkles before they became wrinkles and smoothing them away. She had never before seen an event ticking so smoothly.

  From the few snippets she had caught, the food was getting rave reviews. Her desserts were definitely going over well. The Specialist was doing his thing, and putting on quite a show, by ten. The string quartet packed it in. She made sure they were served everything they wanted, and tried to tune out the DJ.

  Figures, she thought. The man had absolutely no taste in music. The one part of the event’s organization she’d had absolutely no say in was definitely the worst. She could feel that sneer forming as she listened to the thumping dance music. She liked dance music – but she liked good techno, or she liked good hip hop. She hated this popular music that was just the same beat, over and over and over again.

  Taking a deep breath and telling herself to relax, she leaned against a pillar and tried to will the tension away.

  “Miss Holt, you’ve done quite the job. Have a drink.”

  Hallie felt suspicion, irrational though it was, and anger at her own reaction to him wash over herself.

  Her voice was sharp and cutting when she replied, “I don’t drink on the job.”

  “Surely you’re off for the evening now? Nobody’s eating anything anymore.”

  “We’re still circulating with snacks and drinks,” said Hallie primly.

  “Well, you seem to give all your waiting staff breaks. Don’t you take one yourself?”

  “I’m taking five,” she pointed out.

  “Then enjoy it,” said Banks, pushing what looked like a Bloody Mary towards her.

  She looked at it as if she found it distasteful.

  “I don’t drink anything that’s been poured and mixed for me, out of my sight.”

  She saw his face harden when she said it.

  “You think I’m trying to roofie you?”

  For some strange reason, she felt inadequate when he said it. He said it as if he was incredulous at the very idea, apart from being insulted.

  He was probably looking around him, amused, thinking of all the women who’d sleep with him if he just snapped his fingers a
t them. He had absolutely no reason to try to drug her into anything.

  He probably thought that if he wanted, he could just turn on the charm and that would do the job for him.

  “I don’t know you, Mr. Banks. I believe in not taking unnecessary risks. This counts as an unnecessary risk in my world,” she said primly.

  “Fine, then, Miss Holt. Come with me.”

  Before she knew it, he had a strong grip on her hand and was tugging her towards the bar as she protested rather ineffectually.

  “Please, stand there where you can keep a good eye on me. If you don’t mind?” he added, turning to the bartender. With a flourish, he bowed and stepped out of the way.

  “What’s your pleasure, Miss Holt?”

  Oh, what the hell, thought Hallie.

  “I’ll take a whiskey sour, if you don’t mind.”

  “That just happens to be my specialty,” he claimed.

  He did look quite competent as he shook and poured the drink over ice, she had to admit that.

  “Not quite as full of flair as your bartender, but I’m sure you will like the drink. And you know exactly what’s gone into it,” he pointed out, making her feel a bit petty and small.

  “Thanks,” she said, and took the drink. She took a sip and felt her eyes nearly water.

  She’d seen that he’d been extremely generous with the whiskey, but she’d underestimated just how strong it was.

  “Wow, man, this could burn through my stomach lining,” she gasped.

  He chuckled.

  “Would you like me to make you another? Under supervision, of course,” he said, and his words were teasing. So was his smile. Irresistible, she thought as she felt herself smiling back.

  “There, I knew I could win a smile from you. Now, may I call you Hallie?”

  She nodded, taking another sip. Strong, but good was her judgment.

  “Then would you please stop calling me Mr. Banks and call me Aldous? I feel at least forty when anybody calls me Mr. Banks at a party. I am only twenty-nine, you know.”

  Despite herself, Hallie grinned.

  “That seems fair, Aldous. So, how do you think your party is going?”

  “I think it’s going well. But I think I should hire a better DJ next time.”