“That’s a lotta maybes and mights and perhapses.”
“It’s possible you’re not looking to move.”
“I’m not.”
“You should be. Grennady is a beautiful country with a diverse labor pool.”
He scowled, and really just scared the hell out of her. Tall, broad-shouldered, and blunt, he made her blood tingle with fear. And she had the feeling he did it deliberately. Maybe this was why Prince Alex didn’t want him in their country? And maybe she had overstepped in contacting him. Grennady might be desperate to find an employer who could keep their younger, educated residents at home, but Suminski Stuff wasn’t the answer.
She stepped back. “You know what? I’m sorry I bothered you. Have a nice day.”
He shook his head. “You’re gonna give up that easily? I had higher hopes for you.”
Her face scrunched in confusion. “What?”
“You obviously flew from your frozen country to Paris where you don’t even speak the language.” His head tilted. “I heard you tell the clerk. You also didn’t mind running after me, shouting in a quiet lobby. That takes some guts. But when you finally had my attention, you backed off.” He almost smiled. “Too bad.”
He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. “What would you have done, if you were me?”
He laughed. “So now you want me to teach you how to dicker?”
His dark eyes held her gaze. She swallowed down her fear because, damn it, why should she be afraid of this guy just because he had money? And was big. And handsome. And had a terrifying way of looking at her.
“I don’t want you to teach me to dicker. I want you to listen to my pitch for about fifteen minutes.”
“Before you said two minutes.”
“That was if I didn’t show you some pictures.”
He looked at the blue sky, then back at her. “All right. Get in the car. I’m on my way to the airport. You’ve got the entire drive. Give it your best shot.”
Hope burst inside her. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all? “Really?”
He motioned to the black limo awaiting him. “Here’s lesson one. Don’t question good luck.”
The driver opened the car door and Kristen slid inside. Warm leather seats arranged in a semicircle greeted her.
Dean Suminski eased in beside her. A few seconds passed in silence as the driver got behind the wheel. Dean spent the time texting.
As the car pulled away from the hotel, Kristen said, “So I’m assuming you already know a little bit about Grennady?”
“I own controlling interest in a big company. I know who’s managing the world’s oil. I met Xaviera’s Prince Alex a few years back. When he married, I did my research.”
“Why would you care who he married?”
He sniffed a laugh. “Would you put your money in oil stocks if the region was unstable?”
“That has nothing to do with Alex getting married. Besides, that region’s always unstable.”
“Let’s call it controlled instability because of people like Prince Alex’s dad, King Ronaldo. As long as Ronaldo is happy, he’s strong. I needed to make sure Alex’s marriage didn’t rock the boat.”
She supposed that was true. “So you know that our country’s every bit as well ruled as Xaviera.”
“Your country nearly had a coup at the beginning of the year.”
“Nearly. King Mason was on top of things.”
He made a noncommittal sound.
“But, just for the sake of argument, let’s pretend he wasn’t. He is now.”
“True.”
“We’re going through something that could be described as a renaissance, and you could be part of that.”
“I’m rich. I don’t need to be part of anything.”
His phone rang. He slid it from his breast pocket. “Very few people have this number. So if someone’s calling it’s important.” He clicked the button to answer. “Hello?”
A pause.
“Maurice! Je m’excuse. Mon voyage a été coupé court...”
French again. Damn it. She knew two languages. The language of her country and English. It was becoming clear that she would have to fix that, if she wanted to run an international charity.
As he went on, holding a conversation in a language she didn’t speak, she looked at the luxurious interior of the car. She’d ridden in limos with the princess, of course, but this felt different. She wasn’t the scampering, scrambling employee of an important person, doing her job to make Eva’s life easier. She was the one talking to the important person.
She was more than getting her feet wet with this guy. He took her seriously.
She felt herself making her first shaky step into the life and work she really wanted. Though she loved being Princess Eva’s assistant, she had a degree in economics and a plan to change the world. When she was in high school, her pen pal Aasera had been one of six kids, living in Iraq. Her brothers had been educated, but she and her sisters were not. So she’d sneaked her brothers’ books. When they discovered, she’d begged them to teach her to read and write, and they did.
She had been brave, determined. She’d often said her country would be a different place if women were educated, and she’d intended to make that happen. But she’d been killed by a suicide bomber, and in her grief Kristen had vowed to make Aasera’s wish a reality.
Today, she was finally beginning to feel she could make that happen.
Dean hung up the phone. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before his phone rang again.
He waved it at her. “Sorry. I have to answer.”
This time he spoke fluent Spanish. Not wanting to appear to be listening in, though she couldn’t since she also didn’t speak Spanish, she looked at the beauty of Paris outside the car windows. The curved arches. The ornate buildings. Happy people bundled in scarves and warm coats, sitting on the chairs of sidewalk cafes, in spite of the December cold.
She almost couldn’t believe she’d been courageous enough to take her own money and track down Dean Suminski, but here she was, in Paris, trying to influence him as an equal—or at least as someone who deserved his support. It filled her chest with pride and her stomach with butterflies, but after three years as Eva’s assistant, she was ready to move on.
Dean talked so long that the city gave way to a quieter area, and then the buildings became fewer and farther apart. Suddenly a private airstrip appeared. Eight or ten bright blue, gray and tan metal hangars gleamed in the morning sun. Around them were five jets that ranged from a sleek, slim, small one to a plane big enough to hold the entirety of Grennady’s parliament.
Dean Suminski continued talking as the limo stopped in front of one of the smaller, sleeker jets. He talked as the driver opened his door. He talked as he motioned for her to get out of the limo and as he followed her out and onto the tarmac.
Finally, he clicked off the call. “This wasn’t my fault. As I said, any call that comes in on this phone is important. Normally, I don’t feel the need to make amends, but if you want, you can fly to New York with me. That gives you almost nine hours to make your pitch.”
Her eyes bulged. It was one thing to take a few steps toward her dreams, quite another to cross an ocean. “Fly to New York?”
“You don’t have time?”
“I...” She didn’t want to tell him she’d used her own money to travel to Paris and couldn’t miss her flight home the following morning. She didn’t want to tell him that her boss and her husband were at Prince Alex’s island home of Xaviera with his family, at the end of their vacation celebrating American Thanksgiving with Princess Ginny and Queen Rose. She didn’t want to admit that Princess Eva didn’t know where Kristen was, and hadn’t authoriz
ed her talking to him. She wanted to surprise them with a visit from Dean Suminski in January, as a way to thank them for being so good to her, but also to show them she could get a job done. So that when she left their employ to begin her charity, they’d be her first backers.
But she was also proving to herself she had what it took to be more than an executive assistant. If she couldn’t persuade Dean Suminski to visit Grennady with an eye toward relocating, would she be able to persuade benefactors to put up the millions of dollars she would need for her schools?
“Once we get to New York, the plane will turn around and bring you back home.”
Probably in time for her flight. Or she could simply tell Dean Suminski to instruct the pilot to take her back to Grennady. “That’s generous.”
His eyes turned down at the corners as he frowned. “Generous?”
“Well, you could leave me at the airport.”
“I could.” He glanced away, then looked back. “I know I have a reputation for being...well, not a nice guy. But you don’t need me to be a nice guy. You want time to make a pitch. I’m offering it. Consider this an early Christmas present.”
It suddenly struck her that he must be interested. He hadn’t told her to get lost at the hotel. He’d offered her time in his limo, though that hadn’t worked out. But here he was again, giving her a chance to sell him on her country.
“Thought you said you weren’t thinking of relocating?”
“Thought you said I should be.”
Copyright © 2016 by Linda Susan Meier
ISBN-13: 9781488003271
The Unexpected Holiday Gift
Copyright © 2016 by Sophie Pembroke
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