International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2)

by Audrey Carlan

  Royce leans farther into his seat and glances out the window. Without looking at me he responds, “For the right woman, anything is possible.”

  Rochelle Renner’s outer office has clean lines and tasteful pops of color. The reception desk is white and chrome, rather sleek. Purple orchids in full bloom sit at the end of each corner as we approach.

  We’re greeted by a painfully thin, rather petite African American woman wearing a perfectly fitted navy pencil skirt and white silk blouse with a pair of nude pumps. Her black hair is pulled back into a low ponytail.

  “Hello, little lady,” Royce purrs, putting on his charm.

  “You are?” she asks with banality.

  I flick my gaze to Royce’s and hold out my hand. “Mr. Ellis and my partner, Mr. Sterling, with International Guy. We’re here to see Rochelle.”

  “She’s on the phone right now . . .” She starts to answer with a bored tone, and then her eyes suddenly light up like candles on a birthday cake. “You’re the team that’s going to find her a man! Praise Jesus. Hallelujah!” Her excitement is palpable and instantaneous as she comes around the desk and shakes our hands. “Oh, I didn’t think she was going to go through with it, but she is. How long are you planning to be here? I’m heading out on vacation tomorrow, because if I don’t use my vacation, I’ll lose it, according to her highness.”

  Royce whispers under his breath, “Ouch.”

  Her babble is constant and unusually candid for a personal assistant. If Wendy blabbed about one of us, she’d see the back of the door.

  “This is perfect. Just perfect. Now there will be nothing in my way.” The woman beams.

  Royce frowns and takes a seat in the small waiting area. “May I ask who you are?”

  She waves a hand. “I’m nobody, but once Rochelle is off the market, I’m bound to be a somebody. An available somebody who will definitely get his attention.” The woman practically gushes, her face alight with joy.

  Instead of sitting I walk over to where she’s now straightening papers on her desk and lean against the side. “You’re her receptionist, I take it?”

  “Yes, sir. Helen Humphrey.”

  “And how long have you worked for Ms. Renner?” I offer her an easy smile, but I’m getting a strange feeling from the slight woman. Her body language is wired, her word choices and inflections erratic.

  “Ages.” Her eyes widen as if she realizes she’s forgotten something she left burning on a stove and is in desperate need to leave and tend to it. “Can I get you some coffee? I’m sure you have a lot to discuss about setting Ms. Renner up with a man,” she says while wagging her finger. “Even when the perfect man is right in front of her face. Not that she’d notice. Work, work, work, work, work.” She tsks and shakes her head.

  “You think your boss works too much, Ms. Humphrey?”

  “Mm-hmm. Taskmaster too.” She dips her chin definitively. “This will be great. Having some days off, fun in the sun . . .” Her voice lowers as she moves around the space, stopping in front of a corner bar where a gleaming silver coffeepot and espresso machine sit. She puts coffee grounds in and pours water from a freestanding pitcher into the machine. As she does so, I can hear her mumbling, “And then I’ll come back to find the dragon lady is out of the picture. Poof!” She spins around on her spiked heels.

  Dragon lady? Wow. This woman does not care for her boss.

  “If you need anything, and I mean anything, you just come on out and call on me. You hear? I’ll take care of you. VIP all the way.” Helen smiles wide and practically dances her way back to her desk. “She’s off the phone. Come on.”

  She leads us down a hall past numerous offices with people milling about in sharp suits and professional attire. Once we reach a large white door with windows on each side, she knocks sharply and opens the door without waiting for permission to enter.

  She introduces us while holding the door open for us to enter. “Ms. Renner, your eleven o’clock. Mr. Sterling and Mr. Ellis from International Guy Inc.”

  I enter first as the face of the company, but before I can reach our client, Royce comes up from my side, hand extended to Ms. Renner. I watch the interaction take place, knowing exactly what this is.

  The woman is gorgeous. Tall, at least five feet ten, maybe closer to six feet in her stiletto boots that come to just under her knees. Her black leather skirt is skintight with royal-blue stitching, which runs down the side of each hip to the hem. She’s wearing a royal-blue sleeveless blouse, the collar tied into a flirty bow. It accentuates her figure but leaves enough to the imagination to instill intrigue and mystery at what is hiding underneath.

  “Ms. Renner, so good to finally make your acquaintance in person.” Royce pours on the charm, smiling wide to show off his even white teeth. I’m told his smile makes the ladies gaga with one glance.

  Ms. Renner offers him one of her own pearly-white grins, her eyes never leaving his face. “And you, Mr. Sterling. I recognize the deep timbre from our phone conversations.” A blush dots her cheeks.

  Oh boy.

  I wonder if this is how Bo felt when I first had eyes for Sophie? Maybe we need a new rule. No hanky-panky with clients. A prickle of irritation at myself needles me at the temples. Hypocrisy is running rampant through my mind, and I’m at a loss for how to stop this train from leaving the station when I’ve already taken two trains myself. One that led me to the woman of my dreams. Who am I to tell Roy to back off?

  Royce continues to shake her hand, showing no intention of letting her go anytime soon, which leaves me to introduce myself.

  “And I’m Parker Ellis. We’re happy to be here and help you with your . . . situation.” I roll the word around my tongue, but it still doesn’t sound right.

  Finally she pulls her hand away, takes mine for a brief shake, and sits back in her chair, gesturing for us to sit in the two chairs opposite her. She steeples her fingers, elbows on her glass desk, and rests her chin on the tips.

  “I guess calling it a situation fits.” She grins and becomes even more lovely. “Let’s just put it this way, Mr. Ellis: mostly I’m tired of being alone. Tired of dating losers who, on the surface, seem perfect but always have something wrong with them. And without sounding like a whimpering woman in a cheesy romance novel, my biological clock is ticking. Like a bass drum. Maybe some bongos.”

  Royce chuckles and covers his mouth. “I heard that.”

  Her gaze flicks over to his, and a sultry smile crosses her lips. “Basically, I don’t have the time or desire to keep hunting in a sea of goldfish. It’s why I’ve hired your team. To find me a great white.”

  “Since I’m being brought up to speed, I’d like to hear your thoughts on the last three men you dated and why they were wrong for you.”

  She tilts her head, and her eyes dart to Royce. I can see her tracing his body from the tips of his Hermés shoes up his pitch-black Tom Ford–clothed form to his bald head and goateed jaw. I’m sure she clocked his fancy watch, trimmed nails, and large hands. A woman like her doesn’t get into her position by not being able to read people. And if nothing else, Royce dresses to impress. Watching her take him in, I get the feeling she is as taken with him as he is with her. The fact that they have barely looked away from one another since we entered her office says it all.

  Eventually she sighs and sits back in her chair, seemingly put out. She lifts a hand and hooks the first finger. “Last man was Jamal. Built, NBA player. God in the sack. The problem there was he wasn’t just fucking me. He was screwing half the cheerleaders on the team.”

  I shake my head, my mind instantly flicking back to when Kayla did the same to me. Except Kayla did it with my best friend. At least now with Skyler I don’t have to worry about cheating girlfriends ever again.

  She hooks another finger. “Before him was Trey. Perfect on paper. Actually, met him through a friend of a friend. She’d given me his resume.” She furrows her eyebrows and purses her lips, a bit of attitude coming out in her tone. “Brother
played me for a song. Turns out he was broke, practically homeless, and wanted to move into my house within the first two weeks of dating. We’d only gone on four dates. When I asked why he was so eager to move in with me, jumping several hurdles in our relationship, he said he’d spent all his money on our dates and was stone broke. I get that a man comes up on some hard times, but to spend your cash on a woman and then expect her to take you in from the cold?” She shakes her head. “What kind of crazy fool did he take me for?”

  “I couldn’t say,” I respond, when, in my head, I’m cursing the brother out. This is the type of man ruining the playing field for all our kind.

  Royce groans. “Ruining it for brothers everywhere.”

  I grin, wanting to fist-bump my friend but remembering to keep it professional. “And the one before that?” I ask.

  She huffs, her chest jerking with the effort. “Worst one yet. I thought I loved him and he loved me in return. We talked about marriage and babies. He was the perfect man.”

  I cross my leg, resting my ankle on my knee. “What happened? He lied about wanting marriage and children?” I surmise.

  “If only. Lord . . .”

  “What’d he do?” Royce sits up, a machismo in his tone we do not need right now. Like the man could up and find the guy and beat the shit out of him for playing a pretty woman.

  “Oh, he was honest about the marriage and children . . . he already had both. A wife and two children. Was living two lives. I was with him for close to a year before I found out the truth. He gave me a promise ring and everything.”

  “Say what?” Royce growls.

  “Damn” slips through my teeth as I grind my molars so I won’t convey what I really think of the scumbag. She doesn’t need me to commiserate with her; she needs me to help her out of her funk when it comes to finding a good man.

  I know exactly what she’s going through. Kayla played me for the ultimate fool. Studied with me. Slept in my bed at night, talked about how many kids we were going to have and what we’d name them . . . all to get me to put a ring on her finger. And I did. Schmuck of the century. She had me wrapped around her golden lies as she was banging Greg and planning to break it off with me. Apparently Greg wanted her to wait until we’d set up the business before announcing she was leaving me. So while she openly planned our wedding and I prepared for the brightest future with what I thought was the ideal woman, she was actually living a lie.

  I push all thoughts of Kayla aside. She’s no longer part of my life. Kayla can’t hurt me, and Skyler never would. Her soul is pure and her intentions sound. I believe she very well could be the woman that changes my life forever.

  “Mm-hmm, except I got him back in the end. Told his wife all about his lies. She’s taking his ass to the cleaners in divorce court right now.”

  “As she should.” Royce sneers. “Man like that should have his balls cut off, even if I can see why he’d do it.”

  Rochelle and I focus our gazes on him. “Excuse me?” she says at the same time I give a baffled “What?”

  Royce rubs at his chin. “I said, I can understand why he’d do it. Risk living two lives.” His voice is clear and concise.

  Rochelle sucks in a breath, obviously about to interrupt, when Royce keeps going.

  “He probably took one look at you, all you had to offer, and wished he had a different life, was a different kind of man. Instead of doing the right thing by you and his wife, breaking it off with her or never going there with you, he took the lazy man’s route and did nothing. Man probably looked over his shoulder all the time, which means he never got to fully experience the beauty that is you.”

  Rochelle’s eyes are coal black and piercing as she stares at Royce. “No, I don’t suppose he did. What would you have done, if you were in a similar circumstance?”

  He purses his lips but doesn’t move an inch otherwise when he responds. “I mean no disrespect, Rochelle. You’re a mighty-fine woman, and any man, including me, would be lucky to have you as his own, but I hold the commitment of marriage in the highest regard. I wouldn’t have strayed. If I were lucky enough to have a wife and kids, they would be my everything. Nuthin’ could break that bond.”

  The tension in the room thickens so much I swear I could karate chop that shit as Royce and Rochelle have a stare-off. I’ve seen staring competitions between pro wrestlers last for a shorter length of time, and they’re paid to build the intensity. Finally she cuts the tension and speaks first.

  “Good answer.”

  “It’s who I am,” he says automatically.

  “I think I like who you are, Mr. Sterling.” Her tone is unmistakably flirty.

  “Feelin’s mutual, Chellie.” He licks his lips and smirks.

  Chellie? A fucking nickname? He’s known her all of five minutes. This is going to hell in a handbasket real quick.

  I clear my throat until the client looks at me. “Now that we’ve established what you don’t want, let’s get to what you’re looking for and how International Guy can help.”

  She sighs as if the entire thing is draining, even though she’s the one who approached us.

  “For starters, I need a man who’s confident in who he is. Not a liar. Had enough of those.”

  I nod. “Any ethnic preferences we should know about?”

  She clucks her tongue a bit suggestively as she eyes Royce once more. He’s a tall, six-foot-four African American who undoubtedly could grace the cover of any magazine with his good looks.

  “I’ve always preferred black men, but I’m not going to cut my nose off to spite my face by reducing the pool of prospects because they are white, Latino, or otherwise.”

  “Noted. Work, career?” I nudge her because her entire focus is on Royce. Hell, maybe I should let them have a go at it and tell her to call me when it falls flat. I’m not getting a match here other than intense attraction. If this woman wants her forever, as Royce recently stated he’s in the market for, she’s knocking at the wrong door. He’s not going to leave Boston or his mother and sisters. As the sole male in the Sterling family, he watches over his women like it’s his second job. He’s a family man, regardless of his success with IG. The difference between us and other corporations is we make the rules to enhance the lives of our employees rather than regulate those lives. If he wants to build a family and work from home a couple of days a week, he can do that. If he wants to travel less, he can make the choice. Still, it does not mean he’s going to move three thousand miles away for a woman, and by the looks of this woman’s office and her success on the West Coast, I don’t see her moving either. And those are not the only red flags.

  “White-collar career would be preferred, because a lot of times I need to attend black-tie events and hobnob with the big dogs in my industry. I need a man comfortable enough in his own skin and around other businessmen to shoot the breeze when required, not just talk beer and baseball.”

  I choke down a laugh. I personally can talk beer and baseball all night, and so can Royce. It’s one of the many things we brothers have in common. Although you wouldn’t know it from our business acumen, which leads me to believe she may have preconceived notions about men in general.

  “Again, Ms. Renner, it would help tremendously for you to give me your top-tier desires as they pertain to finding the perfect mate. If we’re even capable of such a thing. Love is tricky; it doesn’t follow rules and regulations, and people don’t wear signs over their heads saying ‘compatible.’” I speak straight from the heart, because every word is true. Love is the most complex thing I’ve ever experienced. From being destroyed by Kayla to being lifted higher than the galaxy by Skyler, I know how extreme the differences can be. Especially if one has been burned, which Rochelle and I have in common.

  Rochelle tips her head back and laughs heartily before placing her hand on her chest as if to catch her breath. “Oh, Mr. Ellis. You misunderstood my request. I want you to find me the perfect mate. No one ever said anything about love, though it would be a
huge bonus. Hiring a service to find me love would be preposterous, don’t you think?”

  “You’d be surprised what we’re hired to do.” I grin and clasp my hands, thankful that Rochelle’s expectations of finding a love match are realistic. It took me several years to be open to love again, and finding it even longer. I don’t know if I would have even come this close if Skyler hadn’t come along.

  “Fair enough.” She sits back in her chair, where she crosses her long-ass legs, her skirt riding up her shimmery mocha-colored thigh. I glance at Royce, who’s clocked the move, nostrils flaring as he swallows slowly.

  “If you’re not looking for a love match, lay out your parameters. What is it you want in the perfect mate?”

  “Like a laundry list?” She chuckles.

  “More like your absolute must-haves. Don’t pretend you don’t have a list already going in your head. You’re an intelligent woman, and you didn’t call us in for nothing. What is it you desire, Ms. Renner?”

  “For starters, tall, black, and beautiful.”

  “Got it. Next?” I urge.

  “Has a job but doesn’t need to make a lot of money. I make plenty to provide. Doesn’t have a lot of bad habits, like expecting me to cook his meals and be home every night at six.”

  “Working and independent. Next?”

  “Can stand by my side at functions without complaining. Contribute to conversations eloquently or be silent as needed.”

  I have to grin at that last one, because Royce is not the type to sit back and watch his woman work a room without participating. Hopefully he’s seeing some of the differences between them and isn’t too blinded by her looks.

  “Well-spoken but not intimidated by his woman’s success. Anything else?”

  She nods. “Doesn’t have an overbearing mother. Ugh. I can’t stand dealing with momma’s boys.”

  I glance at Royce. He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt and readjusting his tie.

  Score one for my superior instincts. Royce is the biggest momma’s boy known to mankind.