Priceless: Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novel

by Hawthorne, Aria

  Maribel dropped the quilt behind her and exited into the hallway.

  “Don’t give up on love,” Emma Jean encouraged her. “Lord knows I never found it and I’m a cynical old hag because of it. But you’re still young and beautiful, and you’ve got a sweet caring heart that deserves to find it.”

  Maribel nodded in appreciation, not because she believed Emma Jean, but because she knew it was a lovely sentiment that was true for someone else.

  As Maribel stood in front of her apartment and unlocked its door, she seemed like she was returning to the home of her former self. She hadn’t been there in four days; it felt like an eternity. As she entered, she felt like a stranger passing her eyes over unfamiliar belongings. Everything was untouched in the darkness, like she had fled her life, lured by the promise of a better one. But now, she returned home after a long absence, wanting nothing more than the simplicity and security of what was rightfully hers. Maribel fumbled across the floor and into her bed. In the shadows of moonlight, she could see the familiar pattern of her obnoxious rosebud sheets. She stripped off her sequined dress and smothered herself under the covers, indulging in the faint scent of his cologne that still lingered on the sheets. Maribel caressed herself the way he often caressed her. It had been a lovely four days, but it had all been a foolish fantasy. And like every fantasy, there was the stark truth of reality, lurking below the gaiety and infatuation, waiting to bring everything to an abrupt and sobering end.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Back at work.

  Maribel had always loved her job, loved the department store, loved working as a sales clerk. She took pride in the fact that she had worked her way up from folding socks and underwear to working at the fine jewelry counter where she cared about every piece of jewelry and every sale—as if it was an expression of herself. It had been a long hard road and she had done it all by herself. She arrived early and left late every day because her job was the one thing that gave her an unlimited feeling of security because it was the one thing that was truly hers. The department store depended on her to be there each day, and Maribel liked feeling needed. It wasn’t just a paycheck for her. For ten years, it had been her life.

  As she walked through the Grand Foyer, it felt different now. Sadness and disappointment weigh heavy on her heart. She passed by the lingerie section, and tried to dismiss her affair with Miles in the dressing room from her mind. It suddenly felt like a shameful lack of judgment. Crystal was there, restocking nylon packages into the shelves.

  “Good morning…” Maribel forced a smile, then noted how Crystal failed to greet her back. It was early. Crystal probably hadn’t had her morning coffee. Instead, Maribel noticed how Crystal’s eyes tracked her as she slipped behind the jewelry counter. She glanced across the Grand Foyer and noted how most of the girls were looking over at her. Had they heard about Miles and her? Did they all know… somehow? With dread, Maribel considered the possibility of everyone finding out about her affair with Miles. She knew it wasn’t a matter of if Miles would come to see her there. It was a matter of when.

  She moved to the register and attempted to clock into her shift. Her employee code failed to work. Maribel tried again. ERROR.

  “Good morning, Maribel.”

  Maribel looked up. “Thomas, perfect timing. My employee code isn’t working for some reason… could you clock me in?”

  Maribel pulled off her coat, scarf, and ear muffs and settled her purse under the register cabinet. When she finished, she turned to begin her routine inspection of the jewelry cases, but stopped when she realized Thomas had failed to sign her in.

  “Thomas?” she said with concern. He was staring at her with grave eyes.

  “I don’t know how to say this, Maribel, so I’m just going to say it…” his trademark glee was absent from his voice. Later, Maribel would only remember the foreboding look on his face.

  “The department store is investigating a series of charges from your register during your shift. A customer made a formal complaint that she viewed several necklaces but decided against purchasing them. Apparently, the items were rung up on her credit card and never properly credited.”

  Maribel felt the blood slowly drain from her cheeks. Gillian. Her mind whispered the name, but she could barely recall the interaction.

  “There must be some mistake,” Maribel floundered. “She purchased two… no, three necklaces, but then returned all of them. I remember refunding all three purchases.”

  Maribel stopped, suddenly wondering if she had made a mistake and failed to properly refund the final necklace. She couldn’t remember. It had only been a few days ago, but so much had happened since then. Maribel held her head.

  “There were two refunds, but the third purchase was never refunded. The customer claims she never purchased the third necklace in the end, but the charge was still authorized on her card and the necklace is out of inventory.”

  “What?” Maribel exclaimed. She rushed to the counter and peered into the necklace display. The multi-colored gemstones necklace was gone. How had Maribel missed that? She suddenly felt sick.

  “It must be some kind of mistake,” Maribel repeated, unable to offer a better explanation.

  “I know it must be, honey,” Thomas moved to touch her hand, “but this kind of thing is serious. So you can’t come back until they’ve formally investigated the complaint, reviewed the security camera videos, and put you in the clear. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to pack your things up.”

  “Thomas? What do you mean?”

  “The department store has placed you on temporary suspension. I have to send you home.”

  Maribel stared at Thomas, then shifted her eyes across the Grand Lobby. All her co-workers were watching her from afar. Everyone already knew, but no one had warned her. No one pulled her aside before she had arrived at the jewelry station to prepare her for the devastation. For ten years, the department store had been her second home, her family, her life. But not today. Today, they were all cutting her all loose like a frayed string. She was disposable, expendable, despite the fact that her commitment to them had been constant and dependable for the past ten years.

  Numb with shock, Maribel obeyed Thomas and quietly packed up her things—her extra pair of flats, her hair brush, her tooth brush, her ladybug slippers—then put on her coat, scarf, and ear muffs. Thomas escorted her through the Grand Lobby like a criminal. Maribel was careful not to look at anyone and no one said anything to her—not a small word of consolation or even a silent wave goodbye. Maribel pushed through the revolving doors and back out into the bleak winter cold. Twilight muted the afternoon light and dampened the city’s verve. A brisk gust of wind swept against her back and whipped through her clothes, deepening the sting of being completely betrayed and abandoned. She had lost many things over the course of her life—her mother, her carefree spirit, her own ambitious dreams for her future—but never had she lost so much of her own pride in everything she had accomplished than she did on that day because everything she had accomplished was now suddenly gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Miles flipped his gold pen against the glass top of his desk. He wondered why he bothered to come to work each morning. Because he had nowhere else to go. He owned nine downtown properties, and still, he felt like he was an aimless stranger passing along the city streets. He was restless, incomplete. Even his own penthouse apartment no longer provided him refuge. There was nothing but the tastes, smells, and memories of her. Miles flipped his pen again. It caught the edge of his desk and flicked onto the floor. He gazed upon it, but did not pick it up. He had waited three days before going to see her at the department store. He wanted to give her space. Let her come to him. But he had misjudged her. Three days had been too long. When he finally worked up the nerve to visit her, she had already left her job. Personal reasons. He had been given a vague answer without any hints about how to find her. She had simply disappeared. Disappeared from his life. They had been four magical days of h
appiness for him, Miles thought, and an entire decade of watching her from afar. Now, she was simply gone, and none of Miles’ wealth or properties or connections could bring her back to him.

  He reached down to retrieve his pen, but stopped when his cell phone rang.

  G-A-R-Y.

  Miles shifted his gaze out the window and onto all the anonymous windows of the adjacent skyscrapers. Miles had avoided Gary since the party. He knew he had pissed away the deal with Olson, but he didn’t care. None of it mattered. Not Gary. Not Olson. Not Gillian. Not his damn buildings. The only thing that mattered was something he couldn’t have, and it consumed him every minute of the day, and tortured him every moment of the night. What had started with flirtatious curiosity—his first interaction with Maribel on the Friday before Valentine’s Day—had turned into a mission to prove his self-worth. And he had failed. Miles retrieved the pen and flipped it again. He had never failed at anything in his life until now. And now, his failure to prove himself to her—his failure to redeem himself to her—threatened to overtake his every thought and his very soul.

  U-N-K-N-O-W-N.

  His cell phone rang again and displayed the anonymous caller. It could be Gary, trying from a different line. Or maybe it was Don Olson. Miles considered both, and watched reluctantly as the screen blinked with each ring. Suddenly, he felt inflated with hope. Maribel. He swiped up the phone and answered with anticipation. Then, he fell silent and flipped his pen.

  “Yes, tell me what you’ve found.” Miles heard the cracks in his own dry voice.

  “Sorry Mr. Braxton-Worth. Just checking in. Still nothing new to report.”

  “I see,” Miles replied with disappointment. It was the private detective who he had hired to find her.

  “I’ve been watching for her at night at her home address, but she hasn’t been in or out of there in days. Plus, the cell phone number that I dug up for her was disconnected three days again. She’s got no other family or relatives in the area that I can track down.”

  “I understand,” Miles said, his eyes falling onto his cuff links and undone tie that he had removed hours ago.

  “Do you want me to keep looking?”

  “Yes, keep looking. Send me the bill at the end of this week, regardless of what you find. But if you find her, I’ll pay double.”

  “Yes, sir…alright then.”

  Miles hung up and shifted with discomfort. It had been his last hope. At the very least, he thought he could go back to her apartment and meet her there—one final time. But all the signs—quitting her job, discounting her phone, avoiding her apartment— were telling him the same thing: Maribel didn’t want to be found by him.

  Miles shifted in his swivel chair. He felt a metallic prick against his skin through his silk pants. He reached down into his pockets, and pulled out the tear-drop ruby earrings. He suddenly remembered their first lunch, and later, how she gave him back the earrings after their first night together. Miles intentionally had chosen to wear the same suit from that night and subsequent morning, now, the earrings clung inside the lining of his pocket like two stubborn lovers, unwilling to surrender or separate themselves from each other. Miles gazed down at the earrings in his palm. He would not surrender either. Motivated by a new sense of urgency, he picked up the phone and dialed his long-time friend with haste, then confirmed the hour with his Rolex watch. It was almost lunchtime, and he was in the mood for a hot dog—fully loaded.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the first few days since her break-up with Miles, Maribel hid from the world, reading books all day long in her bed and two-day old pajamas. She only left her apartment in the evening, sulking across the landing and entering into Emma Jean’s apartment for a home-cooked meal and a shoulder to cry on. Then, she would return to her bed and lay there for hours, watching the shadows shift across the ceiling with the glow of the moon and trying hard to forget about everything that had happened. Occasionally, she would hear a bump in the hallway or a thud of the foyer door, and glance over from under her covers, wondering if it was Miles, seeking her out one last time. Maribel would replay the fantasy of a reunion with him over and over again in her mind. If he truly loved her, he would come… She would lay awake for hours until darkness and disappointment pulled her into a reluctant sleep. Miles never came, which only served to confirm everything that Maribel had feared was true about him—and about them.

  Now, Maribel drifted down Michigan Avenue like a candy wrapper caught in the wind. She ebbed forward and backwards, window shopping along each storefront. Her black wool coat and ear muffs protected her from the bitter cold, and the patches of ice along the sidewalk moved her in zigzags along the sidewalk. It had been almost a week now, she pondered and counted the days since she had last been downtown. She couldn’t bring herself to go all the way to the Loop where she risked running into former co-workers, and of course—him. Instead, she decided to meander along the Magnificent Mile, the way she always did during her lunch hour, and browse all the window displays of the luxury jewelers. It had been a week since she had been forced to leave her job, and she was told it could be several weeks more before they could bring her back. Several weeks, if at all. Maribel had two thousand dollars in savings—just enough to cover rent and minimal expenses for the next two months. She disconnected her cell phone, her cable TV, and her dreams of buying a new microwave because if there was one thing that Maribel had learned over the course of the past week, it was how to survive the unexpected.

  HELP WANTED.

  Maribel spotted the inconspicuous, hand-drawn sign into the corner of a storefront window. She looked up, and recognized the iconic clock entrance and its revolving door, crowned with elegant beveled lettering—TIFFANY & CO. Maribel glanced back at the HELP WANTED sign. She would clean bathrooms and mop the floors if it offered her the chance to move up into a sales clerk position at the most premier jeweler in the world. Maybe, just maybe… Maribel had never dared to step foot inside the store, but now, she took in a deep breath and pushed through its revolving doors. Its bright airy interior lured her deeper into its first floor showroom, lined with oversized glass cases. Maribel cast her eyes onto the stunning jewelry; she saw dozens and dozens of intricate diamond necklaces and bejeweled designer bracelets from some of Chicago’s most preeminent estate collections. She even saw a scintillating gem-studded tiara, fit for a queen. They were showy pieces, intended to allure and awe potential customers and signal the glamorous sales experience that awaited them.

  “May I help you?”

  Maribel turned towards the voice, as if she had been caught someplace where she didn’t belong. The grey-haired gentleman peered at her through his bifocals from behind the counter. He wore a dark grey suit and silver bow-tie, and slowly moved along the jewelry cases towards her. He scanned Maribel’s modest coat and ear muffs and waited—less for an answer and more for an explanation.

  “Hello, I’m looking to speak with the store manager. I saw your HELP WANTED sign outside, and thought that maybe…well, I wanted to inquire about the position.”

  “I see,” the man arched his brow. “You can speak with me.”

  Maribel suddenly flushed, unprepared. “Hello, sir. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he said, his eyes steadying upon her ear muffs. Maribel read his mind and quickly removed them.

  “Do you have any retail sales experience?” he asked.

  The question surprised Maribel. “Well, yes, of course. I used to work as a sales clerk in the fine jewelry section of the department store in the Fields building.”

  The man’s eyes flashed, as if he had dismissed Maribel before quickly reconsidering her. “I see… for how long?” he probed.

  “Ten years total… eight years in fine jewelry department.”

  “And now?”

  Maribel had failed to anticipate the question. She fumbled for a response, then simply settled on the truth. “I’ve moved on, and now, I’m looking for a change.”

  The man s
troked his silver goatee, as if he was assessing Maribel’s age and manners.

  “Well, I must tell you…you’re in luck, young lady. I’m looking for a new sales clerk to start immediately. We’re understaffed at the moment, and unfortunately, I cannot spend my own time manning the jewelry counters. When can you start?”

  Maribel wondered how best to show she was eager, but not desperate. “Tomorrow?”

  The man nodded; it had been the right answer. “Allow me to gather up the proper paperwork in the back. You may fill it out here, and we’ll try you out now—today—to see how it goes. My name is Charles.”

  “Maribel…Maribel Martinez.”

  Charles nodded. “Nice to meet you. May I take your coat?”

  Maribel couldn’t believe how fast everything was happening. She flushed and considered what she was wearing before removing her jacket. She remembered she had settled on a skirt and knit tights rather than jeans. Something about venturing downtown always made her dress up more than usual. Then, she remembered she was wearing her vintage Madonna T-shirt under her black cardigan sweater. She handed off her coat, ear muffs, and purse to Charles, who settled her belongings behind the counter and turned to disappear into the back room. Maribel used the opportunity to button up her cardigan sweater and smooth down her hair. When Charles returned, he placed an application and pen on of the glass countertop in front of her. She peered down at all the gorgeous necklaces and earrings in the display case. She couldn’t believe her luck; she was actually applying for a sales clerk position at one of her most favorite jewelers in the world.

  “It looks like you have your first customer. Let’s see how you perform in action.”

  The man nodded over to a heavyset woman who pushed through the revolving doors, and charged up to Maribel. Maribel dropped her application and pen under the counter and felt herself start to perspire. How was she going to navigate unfamiliar jewelry cases with luxury jewelry pieces, brands, and price tags that she had never seen before? Maribel had no idea.