13
SCOTT
Monday morningthe elevator doors opened to the Hayes Enterprises floor. And I was not in the mood. Donovan had the nerve to require my presence at a client meeting.
“Hey Mr. Weston,” Donovan’s quirky assistant called as I rushed past her.”
“Hey Kat,” I mumbled, then backed up a few feet. “Who’s he meeting with now?”
Her eyes bulged and she struggled to shrug. “His calendar says ‘private’.”
I narrowed my eyes and stepped toward her. “Kat, you know I can tell when people are lying to me.”
“Ms. Heart,” she corrected quickly.
I cursed, pulled on my collar and took a deep solid breath as I redirected my anger at the door at the end of the hall.
“She’s not here yet though,” I heard Kat call behind me.
“With any luck, I’ll be out of here before she is,” I called back. Fists clenched and anger boiling under my jaw, I pushed Donovan’s door open and stormed into his office. “You called me here for a meeting withClaudia?”
Donovan leaned back in his chair, a sly smirk on his face. It irked the hell out of me every time I saw it. It only meant one thing. That Donovan needed me on a new deal.
And it had to end.
“Look I know how you feel about the woman. I just wanted you to hear her out. It sounds like she’s got something we could both use.”
“I’m not on the market for new projects. I’ve got my hands full.”
“Then you need more hands.” Donovan stood and crossed to his bar at the opposite end of the large room. He poured two glasses of scotch, tossed a thick ice cube in mine and handed it to me.
I crossed to the massive window at the far end of his office. Every time I did since last weekend, all I would do is wonder where in this busy bustling city she was. Isabel was all I could think about since I left her Saturday night. The evening had been one for the books; fun, pleasant, honest and more than anything, unpredictable. It wasn’t often a woman was real with me. And if they were, I’d prefer they weren’t. Isabel was rich with grace and warmth. She took my breath away. And that wasn’t something I thought possible.
“Look, I’ll sit in and advise if you need me to,” I pointed my drink at Donovan, “for a fee,” I added. Not that I needed Donovan’s money, but whenever I felt like my time had been wasted on stupid shit, I’d get pissed and send Donovan and his assistant a bill for “advisory services”.
“You know I’m good for it, Weston.”
I turned back to the window. “So what’s this about any—”
The door flew open as the devil let herself in. I glanced back to the window then faced the woman in the ironically appropriate red dress.
“Gentleman,” Claudia practically sang out. Her long legs strode to the center of the room to greet Donovan with a kiss on the cheek. Her platinum blond hair was down today, nearly reaching her elbows. Large gray eyes, full lips I wished never kissed—or had wrapped around my cock, clouding my judgment. She was an alluring woman, no doubt, to anyone who didn’t really know her.
“Hello Claudia,” I muttered, in the most bored tone I could muster.
“Pleasure to see you as well, Scott.” She turned to Donovan. “You know I don’t like to waste time, so I’ll get right to it. I have a proposition for you.”
I knew her proposition plenty and refused them all; except for that one time. Which I’d lived to regret.
“I’m hosting a fashion show in December. We have the models lined up but I’m looking for a few more sponsors for the event. I need big names. No startups.”
Donovan chuckled, “What kind of business do you think I’m running here, advertisement?”
“Surely you have clients in need ofgreatexposure?” Claudia looked back and forth between the two of us.
“Don’t look at me,” I said, “My aim is to keep firms from losing their name, not spending an enormous amount of money for a spotlight at a fashion show.”
Claudia was co-founder ofEmpire Fashions,one of the largest organizations to promote and showcase the biggest names in the industry.
