Pursued by the Player (Black Towers Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  “You got it, boss.” Jett threw her a cheesy grin he’d used his whole life to keep the woman in his life from getting too upset with him, and it worked like a charm. She just shook her head at him and let him continue his questioning as she returned to her office.

  Mel slid into her cubicle chair and dropped her purse on her desk.

  "Boss has been waiting for you.” Greg popped his head over the divider, running his hand over his dark facial hair. "Seems real mad." He flashed her a shit-eating grin that made her stomach turn.

  "What have you done this time?" Joel peeked around the corner at her, pushing his chic glasses with thin, black wire frames up his nose as he did. "The man has been tearing the place apart looking for you for the past hour."

  "Don't you two ever separate?" Mel asked.

  Joel and Greg stepped around the divider until they came into full view. Both men dressed more fashion forward than most men Mel knew; Joel had on fitted black slacks, a gray and black animal print sweater and red, patent leather dress shoes. Greg. was a bit more trendy, wearing a black military-inspired jacket, a dress shirt with a bold black and white print, topped off with a black fedora.

  "Look, missy," Greg said. "Don't be mad at us because we aren't on Kennedy's shit list--"

  "She's just jealous." Joel waved his hand in the air in dismissal.

  "Why on earth would I be jealous of the two of you?" The men were inseparable and thrived on drama almost as much as her boss.

  "She doesn’t know," Joel said.

  "The girl doesn't know." Greg gasped theatrically, placing his hand on his heart.

  "Doesn't know what?"

  "Oh, honey." Greg stepped into her cubical with fake concern etching his features. "Don't get upset at us."

  "It wasn't as if we were courting Mr. Hansen for this project or anything. . ."

  "You got the Hansen project?" Mr. Hansen was one of the biggest accounts, and the most prestigious. His department stores rivaled Nordstrom’s and pleasing him would mean getting your clothes seem and worn by millions of people.

  "Got it this morning." Greg blew on his fingernails and rubbed them on his shirt. "Kennedy delivered the news to us personally."

  Mel stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "That's great." She had wanted that account, wanted it bad. She had thought for sure that Kennedy would have picked her over these two knuckleheads.

  "Melody? Is that you I hear?" Kennedy's voice rang out from the other side of the office area.

  Mel grabbed her notebook and pen and retrieved her reading glasses from her purse. "Excuse me."

  "Like I said, don't be mad at us," Greg said.

  "It was Kennedy's decision," Joel added. The two men followed in her wake as she walked down the row of cubicles toward Kennedy's office.

  "Ah, there you are." Kennedy opened his office door and held out his arms as she approached. "My little star."

  "Star?" Greg asked.

  "But we were the ones who got the account," Joel added.

  Kennedy waved his hand at the two men. "Excuse us; this is a private meeting." He slid his arm around Mel and steered her inside. "Hold all of my calls," he said to his assistant Jill as he shut the door behind them.

  "You wanted to see me, Mr. Brach?"

  "Yes, yes. And call me Kennedy."

  That was a first. Her boss had always insisted that everyone called him Mr. Brach out of respect. Clutching her notebook tighter, she hung out by the door. Her boss wasn't a pleasant man, and he seemed almost giddy as he unbuttoned the top button on his burgundy suit coat and sat behind his desk. Something was up, but she didn't know what.

  "Please, have a seat." Kennedy ran his hand through his expertly tousled ebony hair.

  Mel glanced at the chair and hesitated. "No thanks, I think I'll stand."

  "Come now, we're all friends here." he motioned to the seat. "Sit."

  There was definitely something going on. Kennedy was never so nice to her. Hell, he was never so nice to anyone. Mel slowly moved to the seat and sat on the edge.

  "Good," Kennedy said as Mel put her notebook in her lap. "Have you seen this afternoon’s paper?"

  "No."

  "I see." He spread his fingers over the front page and then turned it to face her. "It seems as if you have managed to make the front page.

  Mel widened her eyes as she stared down at the story. "Oh God."

  "Fantastic, isn't it?" Kennedy leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. "This creates such a delicious opportunity."

  Mel snatched up the newspaper and stared at the picture. It was taken of her, shortly after the almost-accident. She was laying sprawled on the ground in her mystery man’s arms. She stared at his handsome face, and at how gently his arms cradled her body. Heat crept over her skin as she remembered what had followed in his limo.

  "I'm surprised you didn't give him your number."

  "What?" Mel glanced up from the paper.

  Kennedy leaned forward and tapped the headline. "Seems as if lover boy can't get you out of his head. He's looking for you."

  Mel glanced down at the headline, which read "Superstar Jett Gorski looks for lost love."

  "Turn it over."

  Mel glanced at her boss, then flipped over the paper. The second picture was of her handsome stranger, walking around outside Black Towers with an obnoxious pink shoe in his hand. Underneath the picture, it talked about how Jett, starting pitcher for the Los Angeles Lions and renowned playboy, was spotted wandering around outside Black Towers asking people if they knew the owner the other sequenced pink shoe.

  "You did great, kid."

  "I did?" Mel asked as she set down the paper, head spinning at the revelation that her mystery man was no mystery to most of the world. What had she gotten herself into?!

  "Yeah. You left him wanting. Men love that shit." He grinned and leaned his elbows on his desk. "Now it's time we go in for the kill."

  "The kill?"

  "Yes." He cleared his throat. "I want you to ask him to be the face of our new all-sports line."

  "You what?"

  "Honey, this guy is more famous than most actors and models. His down and dirty reputation would be perfect to launch a new clothing line. Women will eat it up." He held up his hands in the air, his palms facing her. "We'll call it 'Pursued by the Player.'"

  Mel shook her head. "I can't ask him."

  "What do you mean? Of course you can."

  "I don't have his number."

  "Oh honey, this is Jett Gorski we're talking about here. And he's looking for you. If you put your mind to it, I'm sure you will find a way to get in touch with him."

  "I can't do this. I don’t want to see him again."

  "I see." Kennedy stood and wiped his hands together. "Then I guess someone else will want to be lead on the new fall line for Bailey's.

  "Bailey's, are you kidding?" Baileys was an exclusive store, known as the Tiffany’s of clothing. Running an account like that would make both Joel and Greg green with jealousy.

  “I’m not kidding kid.” Kennedy stood. “You do this right, and you’ll go far in this company.” He winked and strode toward the door.

  Mel stood and followed him. “But, you don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly.” Kennedy smiled and patted her on the back. “You work on securing Gorski for this line, and I’ll do the rest.” He patted her on the back and eased her out the door. “I have a feeling we’ll make a great team, Melody.” He winked again. “Don’t let me down.”

  He closed the door before Mel could respond. Clearing her throat, she slowly made her way back to her cubicle. Great, now what was she going to do?

  Chapter 5

  Mel glanced at the clock as there was a knock on her door. Liv was twenty minutes late, as usual. Good thing she arranged to have the pizza delivered five minutes ago. Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she opened the door to her apartment.

  “I hope I’m not too late!” Liv said as she hurried inside, lookin
g a little frazzled with her red hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and purse thrown haphazardly across her body.

  “No, of course not. The pizza just got here.” Mel hugged her friend, and they moved from the small foyer into the adjoining eat-in kitchen with fresh white cabinets Mel had just painted herself to brighten up the space, where two glasses of wine were already poured. “And I took the liberty in choosing the wine.

  “Moscato, my favorite!” She grabbed her glass and took a sip. “Delicious.”

  “Every wine is your favorite.”

  “True.”

  Mel laughed and picked up her glass. “And much needed after the day I put in. The weirdest thing happened.”

  “You too, eh?” Liv took another sip and put down her glass. “I had a run in with someone interesting today.”

  “Oh yeah, who?” Mel asked, her incident with Kennedy forgotten.

  “Oh you know, just your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “On the contrary.” Liv pulled out a newspaper and pointed to an article. “It seems like you do.”

  Mel wrinkled her nose and took another sip of wine. “Yeah, I saw that article in my boss’ office today.” She moved to the cabinets and pulled out a couple of plates. “Kennedy wants me to get him to be the face of our new fall lineup.” She brought the plates over to the round wooden kitchen table and handed one to her.

  “Get out,” Liv said. “What did you say?”

  “I said no, of course.” Mel opened a pizza box. “To which he told me that if I didn’t, I could lose my job.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Well, not directly, but in so many words.” She pulled out a piece of pizza and put it on her plate. “I don’t know, Liv. Kennedy is just doing what he always does – using media sensations to sell dresses, but in this case . . . It feels wrong to me.”

  “Perhaps because you’re involved this time?”

  Mel flashed her friend a frown. “No-I mean, maybe a little, but it’s more than that.” She thought about it for a moment while she sipped from her glass. “I suppose in the past; the celebrities were willing participants who received a percentage of the royalties. This time, there was no mention of compensation. It felt more underhanded, you know?”

  “I never liked what he did. Fashion should stand on its own, without the celebrity backing.”

  “I know. The celebrities don’t even get samples of the clothing they endorse.”

  “They don’t?”

  “Not for free. They have to buy it like everyone else.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Mel shook her head. “I wish I was. Kennedy feels he is paying enough for their name. He shouldn’t have to give them free clothes, too.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  Mel sighed. “Yeah, and now he’s turned his sights on Jett.”

  “And I don’t blame him after reading the article.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. Did you read it?”

  “No.”

  “They interviewed him. This guy’s obsessed with you.”

  “Great, that’s all I need—a stalker.”

  Liv grabbed a piece and took a bite. “He seems harmless enough.” She put down the piece and shrugged. “Who knows, perhaps he could turn out to be the one.”

  “Did you listen to anything I’ve told you? The guy was an asshole.”

  “The guy, as you so lovingly put it, seems pretty adamant on tracking you down. He’s desperate to find you. Said that there was some unfinished business.” Liv smirked. “I could only imagine he meant that business you had in the back of his limo.”

  “Oh God, now the whole world knows.”

  Liv chuckled. “Not really, but they are intrigued.” She took a bite of pizza and considered her for a moment before continuing. “Hell, I’m intrigued. He was asking if I could give you a message.”

  “A message?”

  Liv nodded. “He wants to go out on a date with you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “An asshole with money.”

  “Olivia!”

  Liv shrugged. “Well, I’m not saying you have to marry him. Just . . . Let him pamper you for a night. You could use a little pampering.”

  “I don’t know.” Mel shook her head and took a sip of wine.

  “Was the sex hot?”

  “You know it was.”

  “And he’s good looking, popular, loaded. . .” She shook her head. “You’re right. He’s all wrong for you.”

  Mel laughed. “I just don’t want him to think that this has something to do with my job.”

  “Fuck Kennedy and his line. Don’t even bring it up. Just go out and have a good time.”

  Mel took a sip of wine and considered the possibility. “You think?”

  “Sure. How could you pass up a guy with such a great sense of humor.”

  “Sense of humor?”

  She pointed to the photograph. “I wouldn’t have chosen that shoe for him, but now that he’s holding it, I think it suits him. Don’t you think?”

  Mel glanced down at the article as Liv chuckled. “He looks rather ridiculous, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  Mel laughed and took another bite of pizza. “Okay, okay, I’ll think about it.”

  “He gave me his card.” Liv pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to her. “He wants you to get in touch with him.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Of course you can. If fact. . .” Liv wiped her mouth on her napkin and grinned. “I think you should text him now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, before you lose your nerve.”

  “I can’t text him now.”

  “Of course you can.” When Mel didn’t respond, she pulled out her phone. “Either you text him, or I will.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Give me that card.” Liv took the card from Mel before Mel could snatch it away.

  “Liv, don’t.”

  “Too late.” She pulled the phone away as Mel tried to grab it. “Hey, big guy. It’s Mel, from the limo.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Mel looked up from the phone. “Oh, I’d dare.” She continued to type. “My gorgeous friend Liv told me that you wanted to go out on a date.”

  “Oh my God.” Mel stood up from her chair and lunged for the phone. “I’m going to kill you.”

  Mel held the phone away from her. “Oh wait, he’s responding.” She squinted at the screen.

  “What does it say?”

  “Hold on.” She started typing again. “Wow.”

  “What?” Mel tried to look, but Liv was holding the phone at a weird angle. “What is he saying?”

  “He wants you to meet him at Chez Monique. He says that he has a private table there where you won’t be disturbed.”

  “Isn’t that the place that charges three figures for roast chicken?”

  “Yeah. You have to go. If not for yourself, then for me. I have to know what a $200 chicken dinner tastes like.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mel, don’t be an idiot. It’s just one date. You don’t have to bring up work. In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t. Just go out and have a good time. Take one for the team.”

  “The team?”

  “All womankind. Do you know how many women would kill to be you right now? Being pursued by the Jett Gorski? A super famous, hot guy willing to spend a whole lot of money on you and you’re actually considering turning him down?”

  “Give me that.” Mel finally took Liv’s phone from her hands and stared at the screen. Sure enough, Jett was suggesting a date at Chez Monique.

  Are you still there?

  After glancing at Liv, who was giving the ‘text him back’ sign with her hands, she returned her attention to the screen.

  I’m here.

/>   Well, do you want to go?

  She nibbled her lower lip. Liv was right. She had nothing to lose.

  Sure.

  Great. I’ll send a limo over. Where do you live?

  No, I’ll meet you there.

  Are you sure?

  Absolutely. If things went badly, she didn’t want him to know where she lived.

  Okay, meet you there at nine. Wear something nice, and bring your shoe. The one I have is feeling lonely.

  Mel snorted. Okay. See you then. Bye.

  Bye.

  Mel handed the phone back to her friend.

  “Well?” Liv asked.

  “I have a date.” Mel grinned as she picked up her glass of wine.

  “Yay!” Liv clinked her glass with Mel and took a sip. “Now all that’s left is to figure out what you’re going to wear…”

  “You look beautiful.”

  Mel adjusted her sea-green shrug over her emerald lace dress that hit just above her knees. “Thanks. I just threw something on from my closet.” Okay, she tried on ten outfits in her closet before she found the one that was the perfect fit. He didn’t need to know that, however.

  She averted her gaze as she felt the heat climb to her cheeks. “You look pretty good yourself.” And he did. Jett wore a navy blazer with a light gray long sleeved shirt underneath that made the look a bit more casual. Mel could see what looked like a white t-shirt peeking out from just around the neckline of his gray shirt bringing brightness to his face. Apparently, this guy was a pro at layering. Or at least his stylist was.

  “This old thing?” He glanced down at his outfit. “I couldn’tcare less about clothes. If I had it my way I’d be naked all the time. My publicist picks out most of my outfits; all I care about is that they are comfortable.”

  “Speaking of comfortable.” He pulled out the pink, sequin shoe from behind his back. “I’m fairly certain these are not.” She reached for it, but he pulled it from her grasp. “Not so fast.”

  “What?”

  “What do I get for it?”

  “Get for what?”

  “For returning the shoe to you.”