Chosen for Power (Women of Power, #1) (2 page)

Elle’s closet consisted of suits—tons and tons of fitted suits with blouses and matching heels. Then she had gowns. Boring gowns that made her feel sixty instead of thirty-three. Heaven forbid a CEO wear a slinky, sexy gown that showed some cleavage or flashed a little leg. CEOs were pillars of the business world and it was considered bad form to remind anyone you might be a woman with a sensual side. But, tonight this CEO was breaking the rules. Tonight Elle was leaving behind the boring suits and the silent rules of behavior. She was going to leap into the masquerade. She was going to do and say all the things she had longed to because no one would know who she was tonight.

Elle sat down and started the work of teasing and pinning her hair until she looked just like one of those models on a catwalk. Her hair had height, volume, and was pinned back from her mask. Her long golden tresses hung in sleek waves down her back. She wore only foundation on her face, but used the matching pink eye shadow to shade all around her green eyes. When her mask was on, the pink around her eyes blended and made the mask look as if it were a part of her.

Finally it was time to try on the dress. She slipped on the incredibly sexy gown that fastened at her neck with a jeweled necklace. Two lengths of beaded chiffon draped from the necklace, barely covering her full breasts before crisscrossing over her flat stomach and flowing to the floor as if made from long scarves. The full satin skirt, slit to the upper thigh, flashed just the right amount of skin whenever she walked. It was daring, naughty, and, most of all, exciting. It made her feel powerful and womanly at the same time.

Her phone rang and she slipped on her heels as she went to answer it. “Miss Simpson, I’m back and waiting out front,” Finn said.

Elle grabbed her small clutch and stuffed her lip gloss and phone into it before riding the elevator down the forty-five floors. She had met Finn the night her father had had a heart attack. She had been running errands for the company while her father had spent the day with her mother. Finn had been the cab driver who had escorted a hysterical Elle to the hospital. He had shown her so much compassion that day and she’d never forgotten it. In the months following her father's death, she’d requested Finn from the cab company whenever she had needed a cab.

After Simpson Global took off, her mother had started lecturing her. “I don’t like the idea of a young woman wandering around alone. You need to be more careful.”

Elle had bought a couple of cars for the business and had told Finn she’d triple his salary if he came on as head driver for Simpson Global. Even though he was a couple of years younger than she was, he’d taken on a paternal and very protective role in her life. He’d looked out for her and her sisters and had been someone she could entrust with her secrets.

Finn was waiting for her when she pushed open the large glass door to the building. He stood by the limo in a white button-up shirt that contrasted with his dark skin and fit snuggly over his large, muscular shoulders. Finn had been a first baseman in the Atlanta Braves minor league farm system before a knee injury ended his career. After all these years, he still looked as if he played. When he saw her, Finn's brown eyes widened. “Elle, is that really you?”

“I take it I accomplished my mission of being unrecognizable then,” Elle laughed as she slid onto the soft leather seats.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s for sure. Do you need me to come in and play bodyguard? You’re going to have a hard time keeping the riff-raff away tonight.”

Elle smiled—most of that riff-raff was paying $25,000 a head to attend tonight. “No thanks. Although my mother would be delighted if it ever came to that.”

“I’m surprised she’s not going to be there to casually whisper into the ears of all the single men that they should ask you to dance. Not that they’ll need any prompting. In that dress, you’ll be attracting them for reasons other than being a powerful woman. They’ll be tripping over their tongues to get to you.” Finn paused before closing the door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Elle laughed, “I’m sure. Thanks, Finn. I’m looking forward to embracing my anonymity, and I think having you glare at every man asking me to dance may give away my identity. But I do appreciate you looking out for me.”

Finn gave her a wink and closed the door. Elle sank into the comfortable seat as Finn drove toward the ball. Tonight she was going to be free.

CHAPTER TWO

Although this Christmas ball caused him pain, Drake Charles also knew firsthand how much it could help people. His family had buried his younger sister, Delilah, just one week before Drake received his college acceptance letter. Delilah had been diagnosed with leukemia at the age of thirteen. They had tried everything to save her. On her fifteenth birthday, Delilah had blown out her candles and had spent a wonderful day with the family in her room at Children’s Hospital. Their parents had kissed her good-bye and had gone to get the car while Drake had stayed with her.

“You’re going to get in, you know. You’re the smartest guy I know. And that’s saying a lot—look where I live. Doctors everywhere,” Delilah had teased through a coughing fit.

“I don’t know. It’ll be a bunch of trust-fund brats and me. Maybe I’ll just stay here and go to State.”

“Don’t let anything intimidate you, Drake. You’re meant for great things. More than that, you’re a good person. When you make it, you’ll change the world for the better. Now, kiss your sister good-bye and go conquer the world.”

Drake had leaned down and kissed her good-night. Looking back, it had been clear she’d known she wouldn’t make it to morning. She died in her sleep three hours later.

Honoring his sister’s last wish, he’d accepted the scholarship to the small elite college in Massachusetts and had headed off to school a couple months later. Drake's mother had cried when he’d accepted the scholarship. His father had slapped him on the back and had bought a ten-dollar bottle of wine to celebrate. It’d been the first happy news his blue-collar family had received in the past two years.

When Drake had arrived at college, one of the first people he’d met was Chip Aubrey. He and Chip had had their issues. Chip had been exactly the kind of trust-fund brat Drake had worried about. But they’d become friends after a night that had begun with two bloody noses and had ended with an empty bottle of bourbon. When Drake had come up with an idea for new technology that blended third-party apps into smartphone operating systems with far better security, it’d been Chip’s family’s bank that had given him the small business loan to get up and running.

As soon as his enhanced security measures had been developed, tech companies had practically knocked each other over beating a path to his door. Overnight he had become one of the wealthiest men in the world at the age of twenty.

Reporters had swarmed his house and invaded his life, and he had basked in it. Until the reporters had found out about his sister. They’d asked mercilessly about his sister, her death, and his feelings about it. It’d caused Drake to shut down. The raw pain of the constant reminder had been enough to make him hate reporters. He’d returned his Lamborghini and had bought a 4-Runner. He’d ditched the two-thousand-dollar suits for jeans and a baseball cap. For a year he had done no public relations. His PR department had released all notifications of new products and had performed all interviews.

Slowly, he’d begun to emerge in public again but had done his best to stay under the radar of journalists. When he hadn’t appeared to reclaim the spotlight, people had become more interested in making up rumors. He’d decided he could live with that. It had allowed him to spend time with his family, volunteer at the hospital, and lead a more normal life. Unfortunately, dating would never be normal. There were too many socialites out there who only cared about yachts, vacations to St. Bart’s, and the size of the diamonds on their fingers.

That was why he had made this annual ball a masquerade. The tickets had been priced so high that they paid for most of the hospital staff and their families to attend for free. Deep down, he had a wish to meet a normal woman. One who didn’t know how much money he had. One who enjoyed talking to him for the sake of good conversation. It sounded silly and he knew that. But even as his hope had faded over time, he’d kept hosting the ball, wishing to find that spark.

That spark was definitely not coming from the curvy bottle-blonde in front of him. Drake stood quietly behind her, clenching his jaw as he listened to Missy Jenner talk to her date, who happened to be his college friend, Chip Aubrey. In fact, to grab his attention, he would need someone quite the opposite of Missy, whose rich daddy bought, and continued to fund, his daughter’s makeup company.

“I heard he isn’t even here. They say it’s some medical condition that has him bedridden,” Missy Jenner said with an unmistakable hint of judgment.

“Sugarbear, I don’t think so. I know Drake from college and he was a very healthy and athletic guy. I don’t know where these silly rumors start, but Drake Charles is not some elderly invalid.”

Drake took a sip of champagne as he made a mental note to call Chip for a basketball game soon. Then he’d introduce him to his secretary—a sweet single mother with a solid head on her shoulders.

Elle’s cell phone rang just a couple blocks out from the charity ball. She didn’t need to look at it to know who it was. “Hello, Mother.”

“Good evening, dear. Are you on your way to the ball?”

“You know I am, Mother,” Elle sighed. Her mother still liked to pretend she was calling just to talk.

“Oh, I daresay the ball will be full of men looking handsome in their tuxedos. Maybe you’ll even dance a time or two. I can’t wait to hear about it in the morning.” And there it was. The real reason her mother called.

“Yes, Mother. I’m sure there will be lots of people there.”

“Just enjoy yourself, that’s all I’m saying. It wouldn’t hurt to find a guy, you know. You’re too sweet and lovable to be without a good man. Go find that true love your father and I had.”

“Thank you, Mom. I’ll try to dance a time or two. See you in the morning for a marathon Christmas cookie baking session.” Elle hung up the phone and looked out at the lights.

She didn’t want to tell her mother, but she had already decided to enjoy herself. She wished to meet a dark, mysterious man who would whisk her away from reality for one night. Her last relationship had ended almost a year ago. They’d dated for three months and she‘d thought it was going well. However, he’d begun dropping hints on their last date. But not the kind of hints she had hoped for. No, it had been more like, "Elle, while you have your board meeting this weekend, I would sure love to take my buddies to Aspen. Can I borrow the G5 and maybe you could spot me fifty Gs to show them a good time?" It was then she’d realized she was only a piggy bank to him.

It had ruined her confidence and her already shaky trust in men. Were they just trying to get to know her because she was rich? Or were they corporate spies? After dating Chord she had learned her lesson. It was hard to relax and be herself around men. She wanted to be the woman who curled up at home and watched movies in her bunny slippers while eating chocolate ice cream straight from the carton. She was tough enough at work every day—she didn’t want to be that way in a relationship, too. That’s why she was dreaming tonight. Dreaming of a man to give her enough memories to sustain her for another year of sitting alone on the couch at night.

Elle looked out the window as the limo came to a stop. The museum was lit up like Christmas against the dark night sky.

“We’re here. I’m going to hop over to the mall and do some last-minute Christmas shopping. If I don’t hear from you sooner, I’ll meet you right here at one-thirty to take you back to the office,” Finn told her as he held the door open.

“Thank you, Finn.” Elle stepped out and smiled for the flashes from the photographers. They’d have fun trying to figure out who was who with everyone wearing full masks or a half-mask like she’d donned. Although, she was sure most of the guests would have gotten out of their cars without their masks just to make sure they were in the paper's society section.

She walked the red carpet and paused in front of the Drake Charles Foundation and Children’s Hospital sign for her official photograph. She ignored the questions of who she was and just smiled before she went through the ornate glass doors and into the art museum. Beautiful masterpieces hung on the walls, and lights cast a warm glow upon the dancers below her. Elle took her time looking over the large crowd as she made her way down the set of white marble stairs. Groups of people stood on the perimeter of the large room talking as waiters walked among them passing out hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Mr. Charles certainly didn’t spare any expense for this year's party.

Elle smiled as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched the dancers. They were twirling around the dance floor while laughing and talking to their partners. She hoped someone would ask her to dance.

“Excuse me, Vivienne?”

Elle turned and looked down, way down, to the man standing next to her.

“Wrong person, sorry.”

“My apologies. I’m Dr. Martin Brist, plastic surgeon. And who might you be?”

“If I told, it would defeat the purpose of a masquerade, wouldn’t it?” Elle teased as she eyed the champagne tray making its way toward her. She silently prayed there would be some left when the waiter got to her. When she had dreamed of a guy talking to her and asking for a dance, it wasn’t a man who was five-feet-two with a balding head and a potbelly, wearing a peacock mask. Elle smiled to herself and he puffed up, thinking the smile was for him, confirming her suspicions. He was quite literally a preening peacock tonight.

“Well, since I can’t find Vivienne . . .”

No, don’t do it, Elle mentally chanted as the man started stuttering. Then she saw him look up and smile. She followed his gaze and saw the mistletoe hanging above. Uh-oh.

“Excuse me. I want to catch someone before he leaves.” Elle smiled politely and made a dash for the waiter with one last glass of champagne on his tray.

She reached for it with a grateful smile to the waiter. A hand closed around hers at the same time hers closed around the glass stem. “Oh!” Elle stepped back, but refused to let go of her hold on the last glass of champagne.

The hand was big and strong and attached to a very nice tuxedo-clad arm, which was attached to broad, muscular shoulders. Elle jerked her head up and was met with dark blue eyes behind a simple black mask that blended into black hair. His lips were full, his jaw strong, and there was no tell-tale ring around a particular finger. Elle fought the urge to shiver and melt all at the same time. Maybe her wish had been granted after all.