On His Terms (The Arrangement Series Book 1)

by Madison Quinn

  Apparently during my nightmare I had given him a black eye and nearly broke his nose when he tried to wake me up. Both of my parents were quick to tell me that it wasn’t my fault and Austin forgot what happened, instead making up stories that he would later tell his friends about how he was injured. I have never forgotten that day or the way my parents looked at me when I woke up. They weren’t angry but their eyes were filled with pity though. Since that day, I have vowed to never give them a reason to look at me like that again. That was the last time I ever slept in the same bed with someone. Every trip after that my parents made sure to reserve a room with an extra pull out bed or a rollaway for me.

  “I’d like to leave in ten minutes for a run,” I notify Carter a little before five which is what I have decided is an okay time to wake him.

  “Yes sir, I’m ready when you are,” he responds quickly, obviously knowing my preference for early morning runs.

  We haven’t discussed my nightmares except for the first week I employed him, when I had no choice. I was having another one of my nightmares which I guess had gotten loud and he came barging into my room with his gun drawn. Scared me shitless, but after I cooled down I realized he reacted exactly as I hoped he would if something happened in the middle of the night. We had a brief conversation in which I informed him I have nightmares fairly regularly and we have never spoken about it again. Very few people know that I experience nightmares on an almost daily basis—in fact I can count on one hand the number of people outside of my immediately family who are aware of them, two of whom are my employees. Very few people who know that I suffer from nightmares are aware of the context, although I suspect that most assume they relate to my time with my birthmother.

  Our run pattern varies from day to day; Carter insists that I don’t run the same route regularly, as he is afraid it puts me at risk. Any pattern we take has us running past Sweet Dreams Bakery recently. Carter started this after he learned who the beautiful woman was that we inadvertently drenched and where she works. I haven’t gone into the bakery, but I find myself glancing at the window every day hoping to get a glimpse of her. A few times I have seen her at the register, other times she either isn’t working or is in the back.

  Carter purposely slows down when we approach the bakery knowing that I’m going to look for her but he doesn’t say anything. It’s one of the things I appreciate the most about him: he keeps his opinions to himself unless I specifically ask him about it. Like now, as I barely get a glimpse of her brunette hair through the window of the bakery, I’m sure Carter is wondering what the hell is wrong with me and why I don’t just go inside. We would have a convenient excuse for going in: we could need bottled water, a cup of coffee or even breakfast but of course we never go in.

  I don’t know anything about her, but I know I could never be what she needs. The way she looked at me that day with her big, innocent brown eyes, I knew that I was no good for her. She is the type of woman who wants to bring a guy home to her parents, who wants and expects to be romanced by a guy and one who expects long term commitments when she goes out. She wants everything I can’t give her and can never give her. The only thing I can give her is a fantastic, hard fuck one night and maybe a call when I need a release again. One look at her and I know that she would never settle for something like that, so why even bother?

  “Sir?” Carter pulls me from my thoughts when we somehow end up back in the foyer of the condo. How we ended up here, I have no clue. Apparently I let my thoughts of Ms. Rose distract me for the last three miles of our run.

  “We’ll leave for PFS in twenty. Can you ask Julie to have my breakfast ready in ten?” I request.

  A quick shower and even quicker breakfast has me at PFS long before most of my employees. I’m typically the first person here but every so often someone will beat me to it, like today. Alex works nearly as hard as I do, putting in close to the same number of hours I do at PFS. Minutes after I arrive, he barges into my office setting a cup of coffee in front of me before he sits down. We don’t have a standing appointment, but this has been our routine for the last year or two when we are both in the office at the same time.

  “You did it again, Parker,” he sighs.

  “Who did I piss off this time?”

  “No one in particular… except a few reporters,” he tosses the latest gossip magazine on my desk.

  “UGH… what bullshit is it this time?”

  “You’re on page three.”

  I thumb through the first few pages before I find a picture of myself taken just two nights ago at a benefit at the local children’s hospital. The headline reads “What is the billionaire playboy hiding?” I quickly skim the story speculating yet again that I am hiding something related to my sexuality which is the reason I can’t keep a woman. The reporter goes further than most, hinting that my last relationship with her was simple a façade designed to keep the dogs off my trail so I can keep my secret hidden. While she provided no comment to the press regarding our relationship, the reporter goes so far to state it is because I must have bought her silence, likely coming with a hefty price tag since she has refused to comment on anything after our breakup more than two years ago.

  The reporter suggests that my secret could be anything: from hiding the truth about my sexuality, to a porn addiction, to taking part in something that is illegal. I close the magazine and throw it in the trash without reading the article any further. The reporter failed to mention that I had provided a generous donation to the children’s hospital which is why I was attending that event to begin with. Instead of focusing on the great research that the hospital is doing, they focus on the fact that I attended the event alone.

  “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” I sigh in frustration.

  “We need to discuss the shipping company,” he quickly recognizes that I’m done discussing this garbage. “I’m hitting a brick wall with them; I think they might respond better to you. Maybe you can set up a dinner or something to wine and dine them? We’ve been at a stale mate for the last couple of weeks over this, they always seem to respond better to you—“

  “I’ll call them and if they are agreeable, I’ll have Melody arrange something at The Summit in a couple of weeks. I want you there though; you were responsible for bringing it this far, just because they want to be a pain in the ass at the end doesn’t mean your work isn’t recognized. I want it known to them that you were responsible for everything until this point.”

  “Thank… thank you Nicholas. I appreciate that,” he is clearly surprised—I don’t give out compliments often but in this case Alex has done everything on this including going above and beyond what they have asked for.

  “I’ll read this over but I’m sure you have everything aligned.”

  “Mr. Parker, your eight o’clock is here,” Melody interrupts us a short time later.

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” Alex says as he leaves my office.

  “Mrs. Wilder it’s nice to see you again,” I greet her as Melody closes the door.

  “It’s Bridget, but it’s nice to see you as well, Nicholas,” she shakes my offered hand before sitting in the gestured chair.

  I have known Bridget for many years now, as she serves on the board of several charities with my mother. Since we were old enough to understand, my mother has brought us to various charity events and insisted that we find ways to give back to the community. Since I’m usually too busy, my giving back tends to be in the way of a large donation check. My parents organize various events, even hosting a few at their house.

  My sister volunteers her time at the hospital at least until she figures out what she wants to do with her life and my brother and father donate services from their architectural firm to several nonprofit organizations that help the homeless. All three of us are expected to attend as many charity events as possible, especially those that our parents attend. My mother accepts very few excuses for missing an event; typically the only ones I can get out of is
when I’m traveling out of state for business. Since Bridget also sits on several of those boards, I have seen her at many events over the years.

  “I understand you wanted to talk with me about a donation for the New Beginnings Gala next weekend? I’ve already confirmed my donation with my mother, but if there is something else that you need—“

  “Actually, this isn’t about that gala at all,” she hands me a folder and when I open, it I see if contains a non-disclosure agreement. My interest is immediately sparked as to what Bridget could want to discuss that would require we both sign an NDA. I quickly review the document which is pretty standard, and then present her with one of my own NDAs. Although these are usually reciprocal I don’t take anything for granted, and insist that whenever I sign an NDA the other party signs one of mine as well.

  “Now that we have that out of the way, what’s this meeting really about, Bridget?” I ask.

  “I’ve seen the tabloids and the numerous articles written about you, Nicholas.” I cringe. “I’ve known you long enough that I don’t believe any of the things that have been written about you. I know the constant focus on your personal life must be getting to you and I’d like to offer a possible solution.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We know each other in the charity circuit, but we probably know very little about each other on a personal level.” I nod in agreement. “As you probably know, I run a successful consulting business targeting large corporations through the tri-state area. What you likely don’t know, is that my consulting services specifically target men and women in your current situation.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not following,” I have no idea what she is talking about. If this is a sales call I will kick her out of my office in the next two minutes and without a concern that she is a friend of my mother. I do not accept sales visits and to do so under the disguise of a charity event is just wrong.

  “I’d like to help you with your media problem—“

  “I already have a full public relations department, Bridget,” I point out.

  “I’m sure you do,” she agrees. “But I can offer you something they can’t. You see, my client list consists of many, highly successful men and women who are often publically criticized for their personal lives or lack thereof. These are men and women who don’t have time to date, or don’t want to date, but find themselves needing someone to accompany them to charity events, business dinners, award ceremonies, etc… That is where I can help you… ”

  “Help me how?”

  “Between us and the NDAs that we both signed, my consultation business essentially arranges for acceptable dates men and women who need someone to be by their side in the public eye.”

  “You’re a match maker?” I can’t help but laugh.

  “No, my goal is not love, romance and wedding bells. Essentially, I would provide you with a woman who would attend all your events with you to get the media off your ass. She would expect absolutely nothing in terms of romance. The only contact you would have with her would be on these prearranged dates. You wouldn’t have to worry about her wanting you to call her the next day, or that she is going to start calling you every hour and demanding your attention. Think of it as a business transaction: you pay for her to accompany you to a dinner, gala or whatever else you might need her for your business.”

  “What does she get out of it?”

  “A paycheck,” she answers simply. “The fee you pay to me covers her clothing for the event, her hourly pay and of course overhead charges associated with my services.”

  “How would this be any different than what I’m doing now? I’ve taken women to events and the media still rips me apart… ”

  “You’ve taken women to these events. What I would propose in your situation is that you require an exclusive agreement be signed—“

  “An exclusive agreement?”

  “I’ll back up… if you agree to my services one of the first things I would do is provide you with a profile of a woman that I think would be a good match for you. This is someone that I think would fit the look you want in the public eye but also that I think you could talk to. While it seems trivial since we’re not talking about love and romance, having a common ground to talk to someone about is important, seeing that events are sometimes long and boring.” I nod in agreement.

  “Assuming you were interested in the profile I provide you, I would schedule a private date for the two of you to meet. I recommend, especially with you being in the media’s eye right now, that this date occur somewhere private and away from the press. Think of the dinner as a get-to-know-you meeting. You are not charged for this first meeting. If you find that this woman is someone you could see yourself attending events with, then I would recommend you insist on an exclusivity agreement. Essentially this means that this woman would not be available to any other clients. This would prevent her from being seen with someone else at other events, which would of course reflect negatively on you in the press.”

  “Mr. Parker, your nine o’clock is here—“ Melody interrupts us.

  “Ask Alex to meet with them,” I quickly dismiss her.

  “What type of women does this sort of thing? How do I know I can trust them not to run to the press?”

  “All staff sign the same NDA you signed; if they dare say a word to the press, I will destroy them legally and personally. They are paid very well for their silence. In the twenty years I have been running this business I have never had a staff member go to the press with a story. As for the type of women who do this, you would be surprised. I have college students in graduate school, students in medical or law school, I have single parents and I have a few who are down on their luck and just want to better their lives. They all go through a very extensive background check including information that comes with a very hefty price tag. They will stand up to any media scrutiny, so if you are concerned that the skeletons in their closets would be found out, don’t be. If I can’t find the skeletons, no one can.”

  “I would insist on my own background check.”

  “Prior to the first meeting, I will release only very basic information to protect their personal information from being known to anyone who requests a first meet with them. If you both decided this arrangement would work for you, I would then provide you with the full background checks that I completed; most clients find my checks to be more than they need.”

  “I would need to have my security team review your information, I may still need to run my own checks.”

  “If mine are not sufficient, we can discuss it at that time. There is protected information in the background check that my clients usually prefer their clients not have access.”

  “What sort of protected information? If the press can obtain the information then I need to be able to.”

  “Mostly, their address and contact information include emergency contact information. Most of my staff prefer this information to be kept confidential so they have some privacy. It also keeps this arrangement more formal and prevents clients from being able to see or contact them outside of the agreed upon times.”

  “That wouldn’t be an issue with me, I guarantee that. I can agree that if I need to run my own background checks, my security team will exclude her address and contact information in the final report that I receive.”

  “I think I can agree to that.”

  “What are the expectations at the end of the… evening if we attend an event together?”

  “The end of the evening?” she looks confused. I do really not want to spell it out to her but if I have to, I will. “OH! There is a clause in the contract that both parties sign indicating there will be no intimacy between the client and staff member. Any physical signs of affection, such as hand holding, kissing, dancing, etc… are agreed upon and noted in the contract. It is expected those signs of affection would only be shown when other people are present, since this would likely be for appearances only.”

  “So how would this wor
k? I would pick her up at her house, bring her to dinner then drop her off at the curb at the end of the night?” I can’t help but think it all seems rather cold, but at the same time I find myself considering the proposition.

  “You would never pick her up at home or drop her off. Assuming you needed to show up together at an event, you would have a prearranged meeting location where you would pick her up. This could be my office, your office or any other public place. You would drop her off at the same location at the end of the night. If arriving together is not as important, she could meet you there.”

  “I see.”

  “The arrangements don’t have to only include charity events and business dinners: if you wanted companionship—“

  “That won’t be necessary,” I interrupt quickly.

  “I understand. This is a sample contract including a price list for your review. As I stated, any clothing and accessories that are required for an event are at your expense. I would send you a bill which would include the receipt from the store where everything was purchased. These items do not come cheap, as anyone seen with you would be expected to wear certain things—“

  “The cost wouldn’t be an issue,” I get what she’s trying to say and I know she’s right. The media expects that if I’m seen in a high end designer tux, then my date for the evening is also seen in a high end gown.

  “Do you have any other questions, Nicholas?”

  “How would the women not be tied to you if the press dug into them? Certainly their financial history would show you as their employer? How would they not tie me to you? I would expect questions would be raised.”

  “Yes they would. And if they dug into my business, they would see that we are a consulting agency providing a variety of services to successful businesses up and down the east coast. All of those companies will verify my relationship with them should anyone ask. As far as your relationship with me, it could be played off as a business relationship turned romantic if the press were to ask. Or that you and the woman work together through my agency… ”