“I’m sorry, Sir. I let my fear get the best of me. I do trust you, and I want to do this. To be with you…”
It sounded so stiff, but I’d never been good at voicing my emotions.
“This is the best thing that’s ever happened in the whole of my boring-ass life,” I said, sighing. “I can’t chicken out now.”
The bell on the elevator chimed, and I sat up straight, smoothing my hair down in case it was Mr. Drake returning.
A bike messanger stepped out and made his way to my desk, holding out a manilla envelope with one word scrawled across it. Isabeau.
“I was told to leave this with you,” he said.
Curious, I took it from him. “Do you know who it’s from?”
He shrugged, looking bored. “I just go where I’m told, lady. Some guy had me waiting in the lobby all morning to deliver this as just the right time. Weirdo.”
He made for the elevator without looking back. I waited until the doors slid shut behind him before tearing the envelope open. I pulled out a note written in an elegant hand on Mr. Drake’s personal stationary.
I knew you’d change your mind, my little temp. Stay with me tonight.
But first, pick yourself up some new clothes. A car is waiting outside to take you to the stores I prefer. You’ll need a cocktail dress, shoes and lingerie.
I opened my mouth, wanting to protest, even though no one was around, then smiled as I read the last line.
Do as you’re told, or you’ll get more than a spanking.
He knew me so well.
I raised an eyebrow. He knew me too well. How did he know I’d changed my mind about being his?
I peered around me, scrutinizing everything on my desk for the first time. Then, I spotted it—a Drake & Smith pen holder stood nestled between my stapler and computer monitor. A black camera lense winked up at me from the middle of the ampersand.
That sick bastard has been spying on me! I wondered if there was a microphone in place as well and shook my head. Suddenly, I grinned, and reached for my post-it-notes. I scrawled a quick note, and held it up to the camera.
Your wish is my command, SIR.
I blew a kiss, then covered the camera with the yellow post-it. I giggled, imagining his face contorting in annoyance as the visual cut out. I was definitely going to be punished for that little stunt later. But for now, I had more important things to do.
I turned the envelope over, and a credit card slid out onto my desk. It was an American Express Black Card, made of titanium, and it clunked as it hit the wood. I gasped. I’d heard about these, but never seen one in real life. They were invitation-only and as exclusive as it gets… and here I was holding one in my hand.
I picked my jaw up off the floor and headed for the elevator. It would be a shame to keep Mr. Drake waiting.
***
When the Rolls pulled up in front of the first store, I couldn’t believe my eyes. This was a section of town I’d never shopped in, for obvious reasons. There was a Tiffany’s next to a Gorgio Armani, and several boutiques with french names that seemed more than a little intimidating. I stepped out of the car, and gave the driver a nervous glance.
“You’ll be fine, Miss Willcox,” he said, his smile making his eyes crinkle. “The boutique is just up ahead. They’re waiting for you.”
I nodded and mouthed a “thank you.” My mouth was too dry for words at that moment. What was I doing? I didn’t belong in a place like this, wearing a dress that I’d purchased on sale at the Gap. It was humiliating.
I gripped my purse so tightly my knuckles were turning white, feeling queasy about the credit card inside. How much did I dare put on there? It was all just too weird. I felt uncomfortable just thinking about spending someone else’s money on something so frivolous as clothing.
I forced myself to walk, putting one foot in front of the other until I was at the door of the boutique. But before I could touch the door, it swung open, and a beautiful older woman handed me a glass of champagne.
“You must be Miss Willcox,” she said, beaming at me. Her icy blonde hair was swept into a classic up-do; her clothing impeccable and of the finest quality.
“My girls and I are going to take excellent care of you today. If you’ll follow me, Mr. Drake has laid some items out for you to choose from.”
I sipped the champagne, letting the cool bubbles play on my tongue. Of course he has.
I smiled. He’s taken care of everything. I should have suspected as much.
***
Four hours later, the Rolls Royce pulled up in front of the Drake mansion, coming to a stop in front of the huge wooden doors. I fussed with the strap on my new sky-high black heels, wrapped around my freshly pedicured feet. I felt ridiculous in this dress, but it was my favorite out of all the choices laid out by Mr. Control Freak himself. All of them were exquisitely made, not to mention short and revealing, but something about this one had mesmerized me as soon as I held it up to the light.
Metallic silk draped low in the front, hugging my h*ps enough to flatter, and dropping dangerously low in back, baring enough skin to make me blush. I’d never been one for slinky dresses or showing off my body. Added together with the $500 heels and I felt completely out of sorts, like a pig in lipstick.
Hopefully I didn’t look too ridiculous.
Mr. Drake’s butler held the door for me as I entered, and I smiled shyly at him.
“You look lovely, if I may say so, Miss Willcox.”
My cheeks heated, and I knew I was blushing. “Thank you, Mr. Daniels.”
He seemed sincere, which made me feel braver, but I still had my boss to face. Would I impress, and would it be enough to make up for my earlier mistrust?
“Please follow me,” he said, and escorted me through the winding halls and up the stairs, to the lavish guest suite I’d used before.
On the bed was a box, gift wrapped in silver paper. Before I could ask any questions, Mr. Daniels bowed himself out, shutting the door behind him. I sat on the bed and carefully opened the paper, folding it and setting it aside. I always ripped through wrapping paper on Christmas and birthdays, but here, in Mr. Drake’s home, it seemed wrong, somehow. Sloppy.
I lifted the lid of the wooden box inside and gasped. There was the vibrating egg again, and, of course, a note accompanying it. When was I going to see the man behind the curtain?
Please do me the honor of being my date at the party I’m throwing this evening. There will be investors coming, and I know having you on my arm will be my lucky charm.