“Okay. Tell me.”
“The Press calls him ‘The Prince’. He is the son of a super wealthy oil prospector and is set to inherit the billions that is DS Oil and Gas, as well as a bunch of other little companies his father invested in. He tries to keep a low profile, but he is considered a bit of a playboy. There is always a different model on his arm for every society function. Not a whole lot is known about him, other than his good looks, boyish charm, and that he is practically made of money. Oh, and that he loves hamburgers.”
“Hamburgers, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”
I stared down at the magazine in my hands. The photo was obviously taken from a distance, but it captured our kiss. I felt the ache in my chest threatening to consume me, but I couldn’t look away from the photograph. I didn’t see a man with wealth. I only saw Jack. I traced my finger along the curve of his cheek, remembering the warmth of his skin.
“Rumor is his dad is sick. He wasn’t supposed to take over the company until after his 31st birthday, but as you probably know, he is barely 29 and everything is going into motion to make him CEO.”
“He didn’t mention his dad. He said this was his last vacation before having to take over,” I said quietly, my eyes glued to his photograph.
“Well, yeah. It is kind of a big deal, Emma. He has his work cut out for him. This transition wasn’t supposed to take place for almost another 2 years and things are kind of a mess,” Ashley said as she veered around another car. She launched into business degree mode, the passion in her life other than tabloids and reality TV. The words sounded English, but I gave up trying to understand after the word “fiscal”. She had plenty to say on the subject, and I let her jabber on how difficult this particular transition was going to be while I stared at the glossy magazine pages.
“Whoa! I think somebody is at your apartment. You want to come stay at my place? Talk some more?” Ashley slowed to a stop in front of my building. Three black SUVs with tinted windows stood collecting snow in the visitor parking. I bit my lip and played with the ripped pocket on my coat. I didn’t want another run in with the press like at the airport, but I didn’t see much of a choice.
“I don’t have anything but my suitcase full of bathing suits,” I said slowly as a gust of wind flung snow at the windshield. “I’ll be fine. Besides, my landlord loves calling the cops. If she gets the chance to throw somebody out, it’ll make her week. Thanks for the ride though,” I said, zipping my jacket up under my chin like a suit of armor.
“Okay, but if you need anything, you call. Hey, Emma,...” Ashley eyed the SUVs and then turned and gave me a hug. “Be careful okay? I know I sound all excited that you married a billionaire, but he is known as a playboy. He is responsible for a lot of broken hearts. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Aw, Ashley. Thanks. I think I’ll be okay though. This was only supposed to be a vacation fling anyway. I’m sure it will all blow over in a couple of days.” I gave her an extra squeeze and then pulled the collar of my jacket up to brave the cold.
“Lunch tomorrow?” Ashley asked as I prepared myself to open the door into the freezing storm.
“I have work, but what about drinks after? I’ll tell you all about my trip.”
Ashley beamed. “It’s a date.”
I fought to open the car door, the snow and ice blowing angrily around the heat of the car. I grabbed my bag and lugged it up the front steps, tucking my head like a turtle into the collar of my coat. The keys were freezing in my bare hands, but I opened the door and stepped inside, turning to wave at Ashley. No reporters yet at least.
Ashley waved back and slowly pulled out of the lot and off towards her house once she saw the front door unlock. A huge man in a black suit stood at the entrance to the hallway, but he made no move to stop me or take my picture, so I ignored him. The hall to my door seemed lonelier than usual, but my hands were too cold for me to care. I fumbled with the keys again and pushed open the door to my apartment, ready for a hot shower and some food.
Chapter 10
“You made good time,” an attractive woman said as I walked in the door. She stood gracefully, a fitted pinstripe suit accenting her tall frame. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her stylish square glasses accentuating her jaw line. The door swung on its hinges behind me as I forgot to close it. The suitcase clattered to the floor and I stood there facing at the official looking woman in my living room.
“Who are you? How did you get in here? And what the hell is going on?” I wanted to scream. I wanted to run into my bedroom and lock the door. I was jet lagged and travel weary, and my head was still spinning from the airport; a stranger in my locked apartment was not something I wanted to deal with right now.
“My name is Rachel Weber. I’m Jack Saunders’ personal assistant. Your landlord, Mrs. Jenkins, let me in. She was very nice, though very eager to tell me she would call the police if there was any trouble. What ‘the hell’ is going on is that I am here to bring you to New York.” She said it as though it were all very simple and straightforward. I could feel my jaw hanging open again.
“You work for Jack?” Saying his name seemed to invoke some courage within me.
“Yes. He sent me here to come get you.” Rachel smiled, looking professional and calm. I, on the other hand, felt like a nervous wreck.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I said slowly. Rachel guided me onto the threadbare couch. It looked very drab compared to her nice suit, but I collapsed into the chair anyway.
“Due to the publicity surrounding your ‘wedding’, the Saunders family would like you to come out to New York until the dust has settled. Mr. Saunders sent me to personally escort you.”
“But I can’t go to New York. I have work tomorrow,” I said. Rachel patted my knee gently.
“That has already been taken care of. Your employer was very understanding.”
“But how will I make rent? I can’t go. I don’t have enough saved up and—” Rachel cut off my panicked sentence, her voice full of patience.
“You will be compensated for your time. Besides, you are now the wife of a billionaire. I’m afraid this is non-negotiable.”
My mouth hung open for a moment as I took in what she was saying. I was going to have to leave again, but I was going to get to see Jack! A thrill went through me at the idea of seeing him again, followed quickly by a burst of fear. We had said our goodbyes. He had fallen for vacation me and I was now back to regular me.
“Oh. I guess I should go pack then,” I said, standing. I wanted to go into my room and pretend to put things in a suitcase to give myself a moment to think. The world was spinning too quickly and I needed a minute to catch up.
“That won’t be necessary. I have already packed your bags with clothing I deemed appropriate,” Rachel said matter-of-factly. She inclined her head toward a small handbag by the door. It was only about the size of a plastic grocery bag. “The rest of your attire will be purchased for you in New York.”
“I guess that’s one way to avoid baggage fees,” I murmured looking at the small bag. I sat down again, overwhelmed. This was a lot to come back to after a long flight and the way things were looking, I had more travel time in my future. “Are you the secretary that went on vacation with him?” I asked, my brain skipping like a stone on water. I could barely keep two thoughts from running into one another.
Rachel’s dark brows pinched with disgust. “No. That was his secretary, Brandy. I’m his personal assistant.” She made sure to enunciate the words as though there were a very clear difference and that a personal assistant was much more important.
“Oh. Are you sure I have to go to New York?” I asked, suddenly feeling very nervous and tired. As much as I wanted to see Jack again, the idea of New York City was a bit terrifying. I really wanted to sleep for a little bit. This was all happening so fast. Rachel looked at me as though she were waiting for a child to realize that her parent’s decision was final.
“Yes. Here, Mr. Saunders asked me to give this to you. He said he promised you a copy,” Rachel said, handing me an envelope. I opened it carefully to find a 4x6 photograph. It was the wedding photo he had taken on his phone. I looked so happy, and he was so handsome. It was much better than all the tabloid photos. I touched his face and could almost feel his strong arms around me. For a brief moment, the joy of that moment surrounded me. I could do this. I could do this for him. I turned to Rachel and smiled, drawing strength from the photograph.
“When do we leave?”
Chapter 11
It wasn’t easy, but I convinced Rachel to let me take a quick shower, begging her to let me get warm before hopping on another plane. She finally relented and even had a PB&J sandwich ready for me when I got out. I felt better after scrubbing the travel grime out of my hair, but she had me out the door and into a dark SUV before it was even dry.
We didn’t go back to the Des Moines International Airport, but instead to a small local private airport. I had driven past it a million times on my way to work, but never thought I would ever take a flight from there. We drove right up to the plane and security barely glanced at us before stepping onto the luxury jet. I sat down cautiously on an oversized leather seat that looked like it belonged in someone’s living room rather than on a plane. Rachel spoke to the pilot for a moment and then sat across from me in a matching oversized chair as she powered through something on her phone.
We sat in awkward silence as the plane taxied to a runway and the engines powered up. I felt like a creature under a microscope as Rachel tapped on her phone and yet somehow watched my every move. I could tell she was evaluating me, weighing and measuring me to see if I was fit for her employer. I felt like squirming, but I held still and instead observed her.
She was tall, and not from the heels she was wearing. She had dark brown hair and infinite dark brown eyes. I guessed her age to be mid-forties, but she had an agelessness to her that made it difficult to guess. She set down her phone on the console next to her chair and pulled out a file from a bag leaning against her chair. Her face was unreadable; I decided I should never play poker with her. My lips suddenly felt very dry and I struggled not to lick them.
“I looked into you, Emma Jane LaRue of Ankeny, Iowa. Your father is a dentist, your mother his assistant and you have applied to eight veterinary schools in the past month. You won the vacation through a random call into a radio station and you have no ties to any large business.” She listed off the main points of my life as though they were nothing more than a simple report. I gulped hard.
She held up the file and I could see my name stenciled neatly on a corner as she flicked through it. I wondered what the other pages could possibly contain considering how boring my life was.
“You live alone and work as a veterinary technician at the local vet. You are not currently in a relationship and it has been some time since your last one. I know that you met Mr. Saunders on the beach during an emergency and that you handled yourself well.” She paused and closed the file, setting it on her lap. “What I want to know is your intentions with my boss.”