Anything He Wants 2: All's Fair

by Sara Fawkes

  I wish I could hate him, I mused, but there was no anger in the thought. The man in that chair had all but blackmailed me into signing a contract that allowed him whatever liberties he wanted to take, yet there had been moments of almost tenderness that shone through. He never did anything I didn’t want, I thought, fingering the blanket around me. I wonder which is the real man: the hard CEO who interviewed me bent over his desk, or the man who covered me with this blanket.

  I shelved that conversation for another day, exhaustion making my eyes heavy. Yawning quietly, I pulled the blanket up to my chin, nestling into the comfortable chair, and slid back into a sound slumber.

  2

  “Do you have anything to claim?”

  Considering I wasn't allow to bring anything with me... “No.”

  The man checked my passport again then handed it back to me, motioning for the next person as I walked past the desk. Bold letters displayed above me told my location in several languages and I stopped and stared. I’m really in France.

  Jeremiah stood nearby and as I drew abreast he laid a hand on the small of my back and steered me through the small crowd. I saw a line of people waiting for the new arrivals as we made our way out to the main terminal. Jeremiah led me off to the side toward a large bald man with a blonde goatee next to a far wall; he strode forward to meet us halfway. “Lucy, this is Ethan my Chief of Security. He will take you to the hotel.”

  We shook hands but it was clear my presence wasn’t his priority. “Celeste is still here.” Ethan’s voice had a southern twang, light but noticeable. “She won't leave for another three hours.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “Perfect. See to it that Ms. Delacourt here gets to the hotel.”

  “What about you?” I asked as he started to walk away.

  “I have to deal with the vultures.” To Ethan he added, “Try not to be seen.”

  I watched him walk away toward the glass doors leading out. That’s it? I thought, confused. I’m being given over to the chauffeur and secreted out of the airport? It occurred to me I should be happy to be out of his presence but, suddenly alone with another stranger in a strange country, I found I missed the stoic man.

  “Okay, let's go.”

  I followed Ethan silently, sneaking glances back toward my boss. As Jeremiah exited the glass doors I saw a commotion outside as several people rushed toward him. Flashes of cameras and the garbled tin of voices flowed to me as we exited farther down from the action, ignored by the crowd. “What’s that about?” I asked, struggling to keep up with Ethan’s long strides.

  “Paparazzi.” Ethan held the door opened for me as we exited the terminal a ways beyond the throng. “His attendance at the gala this weekend is high profile enough to earn press coverage.”

  Gala? I got into the back of the large SUV waiting at the curb. Another man who had been waiting behind the wheel exited the vehicle so Ethan could take his place, and we pulled out. “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, looking through the rear window at the swarm of reporters.

  Ethan snorted. “This is nothing, and he did it mostly to divert attention so we could leave unmolested. He won't be far behind us.”

  Indeed, I saw him move through the crowd as a limo pulled up and breathed a small sigh of relief. I could never do that, I thought, thankful in hindsight for the reprieve. The thought of all those cameras in my face, following me everywhere... I shuddered just thinking about it.

  There were a million questions running through my mind but the man driving didn't seem the talkative type so I kept them to myself, instead enjoying my first real view of Paris. I had secured a promise from my parents back in high school that, when I graduated and got my bachelor’s degree, they would pay my way there. That wish had never materialized - their deaths my junior year of college had derailed my life, forcing me on a radically different path than I'd always imagined - but my love for the city remained. The glimpses of the Eiffel Tower through the buildings made me smile, some of the stress of the last couple days draining away.

  When we finally stopped and a valet opened the door for me, my jaw dropped as I stared in shock at the hotel. “We’re staying here?”

  I didn’t get an answer and, honestly, the question was rhetorical anyway. I stared up at the magnificent Paris Ritz, finding it incomprehensible that I would be sleeping there. Another Parisian establishment I’d only seen online and in magazines, pictures hadn’t done the structure justice. While not as big as I’d thought, it was as grand and stately as I’d always dreamed and I was itching to see the inside.

  A redhead in a trim pale dress suit made her way toward us, heels clacking against the stone ground. She seemed pleased to see Ethan but paused when she saw me. The big driver gave her hand a kiss, a romantic gesture that seemed at odds with his gruff demeanor. “Celeste, this is Lucy Delacourt, Mr. Hamilton’s new personal assistant.”

  The confusion immediately cleared from the woman’s face although she still seemed surprised by the news. “Pleased to meet you,” she said with a warm smile, extending her hand in greeting. “I’m Celeste Taylor, the head of Operations for Hamilton Industries.” Her handshake was firm and businesslike, her smile a welcome relief to the stoicism I’d seen so far. “It’s been a while since Remi has taken another personal assistant.”

  Remi? “Yes well, I’m new.” It was difficult to know how much I could talk about so decided to keep it professional. “I was hired yesterday afternoon.”

  Celeste’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Well, he certainly moved quick this time.” Her gaze softened. “This must all be so strange to you.”

  This first bit of genuine sympathy almost made me cry. I wanted to thank her but managed to refrain from throwing my arms around her shoulders, instead swallowing back my gratitude. “Yesterday I was a temp barely getting by. Now I’m, well.” I gestured to the hotel around me. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

  “Yes I imagine so.” She looked around the car. “Do you have any luggage with you?”

  “Uh...” I couldn’t figure out how to explain that bit of detail. Who flies across the Atlantic without bringing any clothes or luggage for the trip? Me apparently, but I didn’t know what to say without bringing up embarrassing details.

  Celeste cocked her head to the side at my uncomfortable silence, eyes narrowing. She took a step back, examining me from head to toe, then nodded. “Ah, I see why,” she said with a knowing smile.

  I looked down at my clothing, not understanding her meaning. They were still clean, although rumpled a bit from the trip and my sleeping in the chair. “Why, what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  This got a laugh from Celeste. “Oh, it’s not my opinion you should be worrying about,” she said, shaking her head and grinning. “If Remi doesn’t like something, he’ll do everything in his power to change it. He’s a steamroller, used to getting his own way in matters. You don’t have to say anything, I can already see it happened to you.” She motioned toward the door of the hotel. “Come inside, it’s chilly out here.”

  I followed her up the walkway while Ethan stayed out by the curb, fielding a call on his cellphone. “When did you meet Mr. Hamilton?” I asked.

  Celeste gave me an amused look at the use of the man’s formal title. “We went to school together years ago, although I moved out west almost immediately after graduation. Got a divorce, moved back to start anew, couldn’t find anything. Almost gave up hope, then Remi found me.” She shrugged. “I started out as a manager, then when he restructured the entire company after his father died I was given a choice: take the COO position or I was fired. Like I said,” she added, rolling her eyes at me, “a steamroller.”

  “Sounds familiar.” The doors were opened for us by hotel employees and I stared in wonder around the entryway. “This place is even better than I imagined.”

  “Wait until you see the suites.” She glanced at her watch. “My plane doesn’t leave for almost three hours, want me to show you around?” When I grinned at her, sh
e took my arm. “You have to see the pool first. Always takes my breath away.”

  The tour was quick but thorough, and left me a little dizzy. What did I do to deserve this? I wondered, staring at the over-the-top opulence. Why am I even here? Is this Fate’s payback for the crappy last four years? Will it be taken away as quickly as my last life?

  “I need to get going. Even private planes have a schedule to keep.”

  I barely knew the woman but felt sad to see her go. The last two days had been hectic and stressful, and Celeste’s presence, however brief, had been a welcome balm. Extending my hand, I said, “Have a safe flight.”

  She took my hand in a steady grip, then leaned in close. “Look, be nice to Jeremiah okay? He can be a jerk but he has a big heart for those he cares about or decides to protect.”

  Her words startled me. Be nice to him? “He’s my boss,” I said stiffly, not sure how to respond without sounding petulant. “I have to respect him.”

  She started to shake her head, paused to think for a moment, then nodded ruefully. “That’s close enough I guess.” Leaning close, Celeste added in a lower voice, “It’s been almost two years since he had a personal assistant; the last one, hm, left on bad terms. As his assistant however you'll be accompanying him to functions and serving as his escort. Most of the press are used to these arrangements and should leave you alone but be aware you may get some attention. It’s inevitable.”

  Did he treat them all like me? It surprised me when the mention of previous assistants made me irritated. I suddenly remembered the swarm of paparazzi outside the airport and went cold. Suddenly this is a very bad idea. Then again, when had I ever thought the whole situation anything but a strange trick of Fate?

  “Ah, speak of the Devil.”

  I turned to see the tall figure of Jeremiah enter the hotel. He had a small wrapped box under one arm and was speaking privately with Ethan near the entrance. They had a similar vibe I found interesting and I mentioned it to Celeste.

  “Well they were both in the military together, maybe it's that.”

  “Military?” I never would have pegged him to be a soldier. There was a great deal I didn’t know about the man I was now working for it seemed.

  Celeste nodded. “They were both Army Rangers until Remi's dad died and left him in charge of the family business. Nasty business, that. I came in right afterwards and helped field the fallout.”

  I wanted to ask more but both men made their way toward us and the moment was lost. Celeste smiled and stepped forward, taking Jeremiah's outstretched hand. “Looks like I'm no longer needed for this little soirée tonight.”

  Jeremiah raised Celeste's hand for a brief kiss before letting go, but beside him I saw Ethan flinch at the gesture. The redhead stepped back then looked up at the tall bald man beside her. “Ready to go, babe?”

  I blinked, surprised first by her words then again as I saw Ethan’s stolid face soften into a smile. Celeste gave me a wave and they walked off, the big man's hand at the small of the COO’s back. Only then did I notice the gold band on his left hand.

  “They’ve been married almost a year now.” At my startled glance, Jeremiah quirked an eyebrow. “Your question was written all over your face.”

  I ducked my head at his sardonic tone, clearing my throat. “What now?” I asked, slipping one last glance at the retreating couple. The stress was back as I had no idea what he wanted.

  “Celeste showed you around the hotel?”

  “A bit, yes.” I couldn’t stop the smile that lit my face. “It’s absolutely incredible, pictures never did it justice.”

  He gave an amused chuckle. “Wait until you see the rooms.”

  3

  I sank into the warm water, gripping the sides of the huge porcelain bathtub so I wouldn't slide under the surface. Foaming hills of bubbles tickled my nose as I settled into a comfortable position and I grinned, blowing them so they danced in little puffs through the air. The deep tub was surprisingly comfortable and I settled in, breathing a sigh of relief and fiddling with the water knobs with my toes.

  Jeremiah had sent me upstairs to the room, saying he had to take care of a few things before joining me. I had followed the hotel worker who showed me to my room, and when he’d open the doors I'd been rendered speechless. The interior of the suite was the most over-the-top, gaudy place I had ever seen, with its gilded mirrors and paintings, white panels trimmed with gold, crystal chandeliers and lamps, Rococo moldings and filigree along each corner and open panel. Tapestries lined the walls and every inch of the room screamed Look at me, I’m expensive, hitting you over the head with its overstated elegance and extravagant, lurid design.

  I absolutely adored it.

  While the hotel host had been showing me around I’d barely been listening, too busy exploring on my own. The suite included several sitting rooms besides the bedroom with furniture that looked expensive but very uncomfortable. Every amenity I could think of, and several I’d never have considered, was provided free of charge. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I saw the bathroom with its tall ceilings and mirrors, marble tabletops and floors, and a tub almost as big as a Jacuzzi sitting in the middle. My host had time to point out the closet of linens and robes before I shooed him out as politely as possible and drawn myself a bubble bath. I chose a Lavender scent from the bath oils before stripping out of my work clothes, grabbing a robe and locking the door.

  I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth and mellow scent of the water for a while before setting about with actual bathing. Using my toes to fiddle with the hot water knob kept the bath water warm as I thoroughly scrubbed my skin. I took my time but eventually my wrinkled hands convinced me to leave the bath, the bubbles only a white film atop the water. Slipping into the robe and wrapping my hair in a towel, I poked around the countertops and drawers to see what other treasures were hidden in the bathroom.

  Three sharps raps against the locked door made me jump in surprise. “I’d like to see you out here.” Jeremiah’s deep voice carried through the thick wooden door, his words a command that was expected to be obeyed.

  I froze, the tension I’d managed to wash away earlier now back with a vengeance. A quick glance around the ornate room made me realize with dawning horror that I had no clothes besides the robe and towel; I’d left them on the bed outside the bathroom now occupied by my boss.

  Swallowing, I took a look at myself in the mirror. My face was scrubbed of all make-up, shiny and clean but naked without my usual mask. Underneath the towel wrapped haphazardly around my head, my hair was a mess and still too wet to brush.

  I can't let him see me like this, he’ll kick me out of this hotel!

  I hastily pulled the towel off my head and called out, “Just a minute” so he wouldn't think I was ignoring him. Why do you care what he thinks, a rational side of my brain tried to ask as I fumbled with my wet hair and smoothed out eyebrows that desperately needed a brow pencil. Don’t you want to stay away from him anyway?

  Maybe, but I'd at least like to look decent when I'm walking away.

  Tousling my longish hair into some semblance of order and straightening my robe, making sure the belt was tied snug, I walked over to the door. Pausing for a moment, I gave myself one last look in the mirror - seriously, you're never this vain! - before unlocking the door and striding out.

  Jeremiah stood across the bedroom beside a small silver cart with domed dishes. The faint aroma of food wafted to my nose, making my mouth water. He looked up as I approached, his eyes taking in my robe and wet hair. “How did you like your bath?”

  I resisted the sudden urge to gush, shrugging one shoulder. “Not quite what I’m used to.”

  His steady gaze made me want to fidget as though caught in a lie and it took a great deal of self-control to keep myself still. He turned to push the cart toward the table and suddenly I could breathe again. Stop letting him get to you like that. My responses to him were silly but I couldn’t help feeling threatened, as if he was subt
ly stalking me.

  “I have something for you.”

  That got my attention. “Breakfast?” I asked, my eyes falling to the dishes beside him. My tummy rumbled in anticipation.

  “In a moment, perhaps.” He straightened and looked me dead in the eye. “Take off your robe and come here.”

  Everything inside me went cold. I hugged the robe around me, trying to stave off the inevitable. “Why?”

  He said nothing, and I looked up to see him watching me. There was no emotion in his gaze; as far as he was concerned, I was to disrobe and go to him merely because he said so. Because I’d signed a document saying I would do what he said, something I’d only done because he had given me no other choice. The glittery trappings around me did nothing to disguise what they were: a cage, designed to keep me off balance and at his mercy.

  Finally, finally, I got mad. “Why me? Why all this?” I gestured around the room.

  He cocked his head to the side. “Why not you?”

  He was turning my questions back around at me and that pissed me off. “I was nothing in your life, hands to type data then be tossed to the streets when I was no longer useful. So why am I here?”

  His lips thinned but he said nothing. Moving across the room to a large marble table, he picked up a crystal carafe and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid it held. “My career consists of me looking for potential,” he said, swirling the liquor around as he regarded me dispassionately. “It’s my job to find businesses that I can buy or sponsor, fix up, then sell for a profit.”