Desire (Venture Capitalist Book 3)

by Ainsley St Claire

  “How did it go?”

  “I think pretty well. She didn’t ask too many tough questions. If you find out can you let me know? I know it will be in the Fashion Week Daily tomorrow and I can always read it then.”

  “Caroline, you are the last one I worry about. You’ve been managing press your entire life.” She’s right. CeCe is from an old monied family and her father is the founder of Sandy Systems a Fortune 10 company her brother currently runs. She’s been in the limelight since she was born.

  “What can I do to help?” I ask.

  “You can join me for a late lunch. Have you eaten?

  I look at her. She knows me well enough to know that I start every morning with coffee. Some people think this is why I’m so thin, but the reality is that my taste buds are so acute, that I struggle with how strong I taste things and often eating breakfast out seems to bother me. “I’ll go where ever you want to go.” She doesn’t look stressed, but over the years in the public eye, CeCe has learned to hide it well. “Everything looks fantastic. You’ve been here a week. How are things going?”

  “We’ve had a few snags, but nothing earth-shattering.” She reaches for my hand and gives me a tour of the suite. There are so many things going on at once it’s impressive. CeCe’s amazing assistant, Ginger is like a traffic cop with her ear bud as she jumps from call to call directing people both on the phone and in the suite. “I’m so excited you are here. Do you want to get together tonight?”

  Vanessa cuts in, “My husband Angus and I are entertaining two investment bankers from his firm. Would you both care to join us at Musso’s for steaks tonight? We have reservations at eight?”

  CeCe looks at me expectantly. “If you want to eat that late, I can do it.”

  She turns to Vanessa, and says, “Are you sure you can add two people to a reservation this late?”

  “Without a doubt. You’ll enjoy Todd and Steffen. They both run different funds for Angus and are incredibly handsome and very eligible.”

  I look over at CeCe and share, “That means they’re players. Look out. We’d be fresh meat.”

  Vanessa laughs, “Well, yes, they’re just like Angus. But I do know they wouldn’t mind settling down if they met the right girls.”

  CeCe holds up her hands and says, “I think we should go. You need to meet someone who doesn’t have political aspirations.”

  Vanessa nods and says, “See? What was I just saying? Mark needs to be an afterthought.”

  We sit in the hotel restaurant, and while CeCe orders herself a big sandwich, I order a salad and another cup of coffee to get warm. After this much coffee, I may never sleep again. Sleep is overrated anyway. CeCe catches me up on some of the drama Vanessa alluded to about her gift bags. She is glowing and having a great time.

  “I’m so happy for you Ce. You deserve all of this and more.” CeCe’s parents started the larges computer networking company in the world, Sandy Systems. When her mother decided she wanted to make a change in women’s lives, she started Metro Composition Cosmetics. Her parents retired a few years ago and her brother took over Sandy Systems and she took over Metro Composition. She had worked for the company during the summers and afterschool since it was founded. They donate 10 percent of their profits back to women’s issues and the family moto is to remain an independent. This is very challenging in the cosmetics industry because the big companies keep eating up the small.

  When we are done with our meals, CeCe heads back to the suite to continue her preparation for Fashion Week, and I head back to my hotel. Turning the television on to a mindless rerun of a people drama. I turn the TV on for a bit of background noise, but I use the alarm on my phone to help me manage the time. I usually can get so involved in things that time races by. I set myself up at the dining room table to check on my work e-mails. I have an out of office message sent to anyone who e-mails me, but I like to keep my finger on the pulse of what the wires are saying. As I read through the mountains of articles on our competitors and clients, my eye get heavy. I’m jetlagged and despite all the coffee I’ve drank, I’m tired. There is a large overstuffed couch and I lie down to just rest my eyes. I don’t sleep well –ever. As I listen to the show on TV, I must drift off because suddenly the alarm on my phone is ringing. I’m disoriented when I wake forgetting where I am or what I’m doing here. I can’t believe I actually slept. I have just enough time to get ready before CeCe arrives to pick me up.

  At 7:00 p.m. exactly, the doorbell to my suite rings. CeCe is always on time. Opening the door, I say, “How is it possible that you look even better than this afternoon and you worked all day?”

  She giggles as she walks past me. “I left at four and took a power nap.”

  I don’t believe her, but I learned a long time ago that it isn’t worth arguing. CeCe is one of those people who can sustain herself on four to five hours of sleep. I hate her for it. I could get so much more done if I could do that. I may not sleep well, but I can’t keep going with only one short burst of sleep.

  She hands me a bouquet of flowers and a beautiful box which displays my favorite hard candies that come from Europe. “These are lovely. What are they for?”

  “For all the mental support you bring with you and really for recommending Vanessa. She’s been amazing through all of this. We will bonus her well when we pay her bill.”

  “I know she’s thrilled with the work.”

  “You have no idea how much she’s done. Honestly, I never thought I would see anyone as talented as you are in public relations and she comes a pretty close second.”

  I laugh. “She wipes the floor with me. Who are you trying to kid?”

  “No way. You deal with the unknown. She knows all the players and works them well.”

  I’m here to support my friend as she has supported me time and time again. It doesn’t require any kind of thank you gift and particularly one so generous. I know it’s useless to refuse the gift. “I will enjoy the candies. Thank you.”

  She links her arm in mine and conspiratorially asks, “Now, tell me what you know about these two guys she’s playing matchmaker with?”

  “Well, Todd is Angus’s number two. He runs the biggest fund for Angus’ company, and Steffen is a German guy who is some kind of numbers wunderkind. I still think they’re players and only looking to get laid.”

  “You’re probably right. I still can’t believe that she tamed Angus.”

  “I don’t know if he’s tame, but she keeps him on a tight leash. No funny business for him. I don’t’ think he cares though. He only has eyes for Vanessa.”

  “That’s something we all deserve.”

  Andy

  CHAPTER TWO

  Looking out my window, I see twelve years of hard work. And it has been hard. California droughts, cold summers, flooding rains, hail damage, parasites and everything that has hit us. It’s been worth it though. We finally started to get out of the red last year, and it’s like a light switched, and we are firmly in the black these days, and it’s really a relief.

  His hook

  Looking over the day’s receipts, I’m excited by the numbers. Each month our revenues climb. They haven’t gone up the same as months before, so I need to prepare for our eventual plateau. We are making just enough to keep our creditors at bay, but we’ve gone from a well-known winemaker in Europe to expanding across the world over the last twenty years. We are small by many of the big brand's standards but having a presence on almost every continent brings many different flavors and standing within the high-end wine community.

  Taking a deep breath before I enter the tasting room I close my eyes and calm myself. I try to avoid the tasting room these days. It seems I’ve become the man du jour for the wealthy women of Napa Valley. Maybe when I was younger I loved all the attention, but if I’m being honest with myself, even then I hated it. I know the only reason I’m so popular with the ladies because these women see me as a conquest that no one has had. Ever since my divorce became final a few year’s a
go, I’ve not felt the need to date or honestly get laid. I’m tired of the game I thought I would never play again.

  I see her across the room, she’s beautiful by most standards. I can’t remember her name, she told me last week when she was here. If I remember correctly, her husband left her for a younger version of her and Napa is her Tuscan get-away. She sees me and lights up and waves me over. She’s sitting with a group of other women of similar age—late fifties and all chasing the younger versions of themselves.

  “Andrew! Please meet my friends, “Jennifer, Eve, and Lisa Marie.”

  I bend slightly and without trying to be obvious that my name isn’t Andrew, but Andreas, “Nice to meet you ladies. Please call me Andy. I hope you are enjoying your wine.”

  They all nod enthusiastically. She continues, “Andrew, can you sit down and join us?” She pats the seat next to her.

  “That’s so kind of you lovely ladies for the invitation. Unfortunately, duty calls. Enjoy your drinks.” Excusing myself, I work my way over to Sophia. “How is it going?”

  “Well, the ladies who flagged you down have been sitting here for over an hour waiting for you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I need to watch myself. I know that if I spurn one of these women it could affect the business. Wine and their fans can be fickle. “Thanks for the heads up.” Despite all the opportunity that comes my way I’m a one-woman-man who prizes genuineness and thoughtful conversation above lipstick and high-heels.

  I hear my name being called. It’s coming from the women. I paint a smile on my face before I turn around. “Yes, ladies? What can I do for you?”

  Eve speaks up, “Marnie thought you might be interested in joining us for dinner tonight.” She raises her brows and puffs large breasts out at me.

  “I certainly wish I could. Unfortunately, I have—"

  She interrupts and holds her hand up as a stop me. “Before you say, no, hear us out. We have a table at French Laundry.” She runs her fingers along the neck of her very low-cut sweater and licks her lips in a seductive way. “And we promise to all entertain you fully.”

  Trying to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head, I try to grasp that she could be inviting me to a sex party with all four of the women. “Wow. That’s very kind of you to think I could keep up with you minks. Really. But I have plans I can’t break.” It may be a microwave meal and a soccer game, but it’s plans.

  The woman named Lisa Marie looks like she may cry. Her hand runs up the inseam of my pants, and I step back both startled and surprised at her audacity.

  “You ladies, have a fantastic time. I’ve never had a bad meal there.” And I quickly walk away.

  Sophie gives me the look at the four young women who have come in and are sitting at a corner table. She doesn’t want to be the bad guy and is going to let me kick them out for being underage. “Welcome ladies.”

  They giggle, and the leader of the pack says, “We each like a flight of the red.” Her eyes look me up and down. Breathlessly she adds, “Please.”

  “Of course. First though, I need to check everyone’s birthdates.”

  All of a sudden, they are nervous. The leader asks as she winks at me, “We are all over the drinking age.”

  “I have no doubt you are over the drinking age in some countries, but I need to be sure you are of age to drink in this country.” They all guffaw and murmuring excuses.

  The leader whines, “It doesn’t matter, really does it?”

  “Unfortunately it does. Because we are in the wine business and we have a liquor license we don’t want to lose, I need to ask.” I then lean in close and point to a strange man sitting at the bar and add, “See that man over there? He’s with the California Alcoholic Beverage Control, and if I serve minors, I will lose my liquor license and my vineyard.”

  The look of panic cross their face, and the leader says, “Well, I guess we should be heading out.”

  I nod. “Enjoy your night girls.” I watch the girls walk out. We get far too many young people who think that they can drink alcohol without being of age and the rules we are held to are much more firm. We got a ticket for serving a minor shortly after we opened. The ID was a close match to the girl and Sophia made an honest mistake, but it was an expensive $10,000 mistake we will never make again. I walk over to the guy I pointed out to the girls. “Hey, Tim.”

  “Did I hear you tell those college co-eds that I was with ABC?” He asks with a giant grin on his face.

  “Yep. I won’t risk my vineyard on a bunch of young girls.”

  “You have too many ethics for this town.”

  “Not at all. How is my favorite bottle salesman?”

  “Doing great. I just met with Sophia, and we walked through your needs for the crush. We should be in good shape.”

  “Great. Care for a glass of wine?”

  “No thanks. No drinking and driving for me. A quick way to become unemployed.”

  “I understand. Let me know if there is anything you need from me.”

  He waves as he leaves. There are a few couples, and I see another table of woman who keeps making googalee eyes at me. Good grief. I’m sure there is something better I can be doing than being treated like a piece of meat.

  At seven we close and lock the outside gates and shut off all the lights in the tasting room. I send my sister Sophia home to her husband, and I head up to the office to go through today’s bills. It never stops. It’s nine, and I can call my mom in Italy for our almost daily call before I give in for the night. It’s 7:00 a.m. in Tuscany, and she’ll be up and busy. She fields calls from my brothers and sisters from all over the world all day long and loves every minute of it. My parents are the only people in the family that really don’t speak any English but this is good for me to keep up with my Italian. Sophia and I tend to only speak to one another in English unless we are having a heated discussion.

  The phone rings once and my mother answers the phone. “Pronto.”

  “Mama!”

  “My American son has called.” My father joins the call, and we have a quick meeting to update everyone on what’s going on here. I share the daily numbers from the tasting room. We often talk about the differences between winemaking in the States as compared to Italy. Napa is a tourist destination unlike any other country we operate in so we see a decent income from tastings. It helps that Sophia and I have grown up on Bellissima wines and learned long before acquiring a taste for the fermented grape the process and what makes a good wine and she primarily runs the tasting room.

  I’m the tenth of fifteen kids. The oldest of the last five. My siblings and I have spanned the globe starting vineyards trying to make Bellissima Grande the wine of the world. While we are part of the larger company, we are each in

  My father ends the call, “We’d like everyone to come home next month for a group meeting.” We meet every quarter for a week at home. Someone always has something going on that becomes the focus of the meetings which is never a good thing to have eight brothers and our father focused on your vineyard.

  My mother adds, “Please bring your American girlfriend so I can meet her.”

  “Mama, there is no American woman in my life.” Ever since I divorced, she’s been after me to meet someone. She worries that I’m alone. I promise her that I’m happy but she doesn’t buy it.

  “You have time. I have a good feeling you will find one and bring her home. One I will like, of course.” My parents are notorious for not liking anyone’s spouse they brought home. My oldest brother married a French woman from an old Champagne producing family and even that was difficult for them.

  It’s hopeless to argue with her. “I’ll try. Talk to you next week.”

  We hang up, and I make my way to my apartment above the tasting room. Exhausted, I strip down and crawl into bed with only my underwear on. I keep rehashing the conversation about my mother pushing for me to bring someone home with me. She is usually a bit more subtle, so it’s surprising she would want ask that I bring someon
e home. My head hits the pillow, and I’m out.

  Read the start of

  Temptation

  Venture Capitalist book 4

  by Ainsley St Claire

  Please forgive any type-o’s this has yet to be professionally edited

  Greer

  CHAPTER ONE

  Exiting my flight at JFK, I see a placard with my name on it. CeCe, you didn’t have to do this. I was quite fine taking a ride share into The City. I walk up and introduce myself. “Hello. I’m Greer Fisher.”

  “Good morning, Miss. Fisher. My name is Carleton, and Ms. Arnault sent me and asked that I give you a ride to your hotel and be available to you this afternoon for shopping or whatever you may want to do today. May I take your bag?”

  I reluctantly hand him my bag. It isn’t as if I haven’t been chauffeured around my whole life, I was just expecting to come in for Fashion Week a few days early to see my cousin and support CeCe one of my best friends.

  For everyone, family dynamics is stressful for a multitude of reasons, my family is more difficult than most. My cousin Vanessa is my age and understands all the challenges I face because our mothers are sisters and equally crazy. She also works in public relations and owns a small company that caters to designers and companies in the beauty industry. Fashion Week is her twice a year crazy time.

  Carleton opens the passenger side door of the Mercedes for me. “Did CeCe tell you where I’m staying?”

  “She mentioned that you were at The Whitby Hotel on West 56th Avenue. Is that correct?”

  I sit back in my seat and try to relax. “Yes, that’s the place.”

  I look through my e-mails, and nothing is happening that I need to deal with, so I fire off a text to CeCe.

  Me: You didn’t have to send a driver. I’m quite able to get a car and meet Vanessa later today. You have enough to worry about this week. The girls and I are good and here to help you. Not the other way around.