Please (Please #1) (13 page)

I scoffed at my own thought. And maybe he was a spoiled little brat that always got what he wanted. Because if that was the case, he was just about to learn what “no” felt like. I’d found my courage to stand my ground again, and I would use it.

T
he door buzzer
sounded at ten a.m. the next morning. I cinched my robe around me as I pushed the intercom button. “Hello?”

“Miss Jonston, it’s Pat—I’ll be doing your hair and makeup, and helping prepare.”

“Come on up.” I pushed the button to let her into the building.

I opened the door and stood in the doorway. A tall, sophisticated woman in black slacks and shirt crested the stairwell. She had enough luggage to travel to Europe for a week. She turned my way without prompting. When she neared, she asked, “Are you showered?”

“Yes, I’m all set. Aren’t we a little early—” I cut off as Bert stomped up a moment later with another couple of bags. “Jeez. You have more?”

“Women prepare for an event in style, Miss Jonston.” Pat waltzed into my apartment. “We do not
get ready.
We pamper. Please, let’s get started.”

Bert stopped in front of me with a concerned look. “You okay?”

I shrugged. “Meh.”

He grinned. “Whatever you got going with Mr. Carlisle, you sure had him surly yesterday. He left right after you did, saw me standing there, and gave me that
look.
You have some balls, girl—excuse the language.”

“It’s only a job, Bert. A great job, with great benefits, but if you let yourself get pushed around, who are you then?”

“His bitch. You’re right.” Bert laughed and motioned me through the door ahead of him. “I don’t think he’s used to it.”

“Rich people rarely are, are they?”

Pat was setting up in the living room. Makeup of all kinds and shades spread across the coffee table. Hair products and tools littered the couch. A chair from the kitchen table had been brought over and was waiting for me to sit.

Pat straightened and looked me over as Bert headed toward the dining table in the corner.

“Can I clear some of this off, Livy?” Bert asked as he set bags down.

“Yes, go ahead. We’ll just have to put it back, because it’s my roommate’s. And I wouldn’t leave the car too long—DPT are pretty fierce with issuing tickets during normal working hours.”

“Mr. Carlisle said he wants to enhance your natural beauty, not overshadow it.” Pat gazed down at her tools and colors. “He was absolutely right. Bert, bring up the dress, if you please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bert put down a bottle of champagne he was about to open and headed for the door. “I just have to grab it from the car.”

“He’s so helpful,” Pat mused as she glanced at my face again. “So much sweeter than the last driver. I hope he stays for a while.”

“How long have you worked for Mr. Carlisle?” I asked as Pat picked out a couple shades of concealer.

“Oh, I don’t. No offense, but I would never work directly for that man. His moods would drive me insane. I have my own shop. I usually wouldn’t do house calls myself—I have girls for this kind of thing—but saying no to Mr. Carlisle is not wise if you want to keep his business. And I would certainly like to do that.”

“Here we are,” Bert said as he returned. “I’ll just leave it here. I saw a space open up across the street. I want to go grab it so I can sit in on the fun.”

Pat waved him away as she turned to the dress. She took it out of the garment bag like she might an old relic, before hanging it on a picture frame in the middle of a white wall. She tsked. “My, my, that is something. Absolutely gorgeous. You have great taste.”

“I was just the model. Hunter picked everything out.”

“Ah. Well, he chose well for you.” She sucked her lip as she surveyed her makeup options again. “My instinct would be to use bold colors. To really play up the glamour of the dress and make your eyes pop. Hmm.” She crossed her arms and spun around, looking at the ground. “Where are the accessories?”

“I don’t know. Hunter was keeping them.”

“Yes…” She crossed to the table and bent for a small black box. As she brought it over, I realized it was a strongbox. “Locked.”

Pat laid it on the couch. “Well, we’ll have a mimosa while we wait for Bert. No sense in standing around idly.”

We were halfway through our glasses when Bert trudged into the room with a sheen of sweat on his face. He huffed as he closed the door. “Had to fight someone for the spot. I got there first, but he tried to nosedive in. Sneaky little…”

“I hope you didn’t have to get physical with him, Mr. Ramous.” Pat winked at me. “Your opponent would be a pancake.”

“No, but I did have to get out of the car when he started yelling.” Bert walked over and grabbed a bottle of water. “He didn’t stick around long. I got to pull in.”

“I bet he didn’t,” I muttered with a smile.

“Okay, Bert, if you will, please unveil the jewelry.” Pat pushed away from the counter in the kitchen and showed Bert the box she’d moved.

Bert bent over the couch to retrieve it, entered a code, and pulled open the container. He handed it to Pat.

“Mr. Carlisle doesn’t even need a strongbox—just put the merchandise on Bert’s person somewhere, and he’d be all set.” Pat’s eyes twinkled as she smiled at Bert.

“Ah, now,” Bert said with a red face. He grabbed a chair from the table and set it near the door. It was removed from the battle zone of hair and makeup, but still a part of the crew, given the tiny size of the apartment.

“O-kay!” Pat’s eyes lit up as she pulled out the bracelet. “This is nice. Classy, yet simple.”

She opened the next velvet bag and delicately pulled out the contents. “Oh my God!” She gently held the necklace in her hands. “He wants you done up to the nines. Lucky girl.”

“Wow, Livy,” Bert said, standing and stepping closer to get a better look. He glanced at the dress, and then back again. “Saying no really does the trick. I’ve never seen him go that big for an admin before.”

“He can probably see that
this
admin isn’t after his material possessions,” Pat said, draping the necklace over my chest. Her eyes darted between the necklace and my face.

“I didn’t know he was going to buy it. I tried to stop him,” I exclaimed. I picked at my nail, suddenly extremely uncomfortable.

Pat froze.

“He bought those?” Bert asked with incredulity.

“Don’t pick your nail—you’ll make my job harder.” Pat unfroze as the moment passed. She put the jewelry away carefully. “And don’t be so alarmed, Bert. Obviously he sees something in this girl that he hasn’t seen in the others. Hell,
I
see something in this girl that I never saw in the others, and I’ve known her for five minutes.” She gave me a wink. “Don’t feel uncomfortable—Mr. Carlisle has money growing out of his ears. This seems like a big purchase to you, but the man owns more than one island.
Islands,
Olivia. That people live on, and pay him rent. A few pieces of jewelry won’t even make a dent in his interests.”

“True.” Bert took the jewelry and returned it to the box for safekeeping. “But I wouldn’t go telling a bunch of people that, Livy. You’re bound to create enemies.”

“Not to mention getting your jewelry stolen. Okay…” Pat gestured toward the chair. “Let’s do hair first. I think half up, so the necklace and earrings are visible, but curly strands falling down like dewdrops. That’ll look beautiful.”

Pat got to work, her hands moving quickly and efficiently as she went about her task. Bert made up plates of nibbles and passed them out, trying half of each plate in the process. He didn’t partake in champagne, as he was driving, but the man could certainly eat.

After hair, we went straight to makeup. “Natural is definitely the way to go. We don’t want to overpower the dress or compete with the necklace—Mr. Carlisle could’ve made great strides in the fashion industry.” Pat got to work with the same smooth efficiency she’d employed with my hair.

“Oh wow.” Bert moved beside Pat when she had finished, staring down at me. He smiled. “Yep, you look really pretty, Livy. Really, really pretty.”

“All I did was enhance things.” Pat started putting her items away, leaving a couple of things on the couch that she’d used—probably for later touchups. “When she hits thirty, and the rest of that baby fat melts away, she will be a knockout! She won’t need any makeup.”

“She doesn’t need any now,” Bert said with a furrowed brow.

“Yes, she does, Mr. Ramous,” Pat countered with a flat voice. “She is twenty. She
looks
twenty. No one takes twenty-year-olds seriously. Give her some edge to those cheekbones, and a pronounced shelf to hang those eyebrows, and she is a twenty-year-old with
distinction.
Society is a fickle bitch— it wants youth in women, but it doesn’t want to listen to that youth; it just wants to stare.”

Bert gave me a put-upon expression as he shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about. He was among company.

“I’m twenty-two, by the way,” I said, trying to hide a smile.

“Same thing.” Pat shooed me toward my room. “Go get into your dress. We are ten minutes behind schedule.”

“I can see why Hunter likes to work with you. You’re an extension of his pushiness.”

As I entered my room, my gaze snagged on the contract lying on my bed. I’d gone over it the night before, page by page and line by line. Most was the same, and most didn’t really matter. I was to be his plus one to events, acknowledging that he would provide anything needed to make the role a success—like clothes, accessories, etc. I was to make myself available on nights and weekends if the job demanded it, and other things I was already doing. I hadn’t realized this was part of the personal contract—I’d thought it was the requirements of the job, and covered in the contract of employment.

The only issues that remained, the ones I had any problems with, were the sexual ones. He got to call
all
the shots. I had to answer to his beck and call. I couldn’t instigate, and had a limit on saying no. My job was on the line for each infraction, not to mention the normal things that could get me fired, like being late, or not doing my work.

There was more, though. I worried that with a contract, Hunter would shut off. He’d get to keep his head in business while he robotically satisfied his physical needs. I couldn’t deal with that. Right now he lost control enough to show a softer core when he touched me. He showed his passion. If he had yet another coat of armor protecting him, as this contract would provide, I feared the softer, caring man would disappear. And that would make my role unbearable. I couldn’t stand to let that man go.

I adjusted myself within my dress, tucked away my uncertainty over my future in this position, and walked out into the living room. Pat looked up and squinted immediately. “Let’s put the jewelry on, because right now, your makeup is too subtle.” A smile creased Bert’s face and softened his eyes. “Livy, you will knock them dead. They won’t know what hit them.”

“Yes. Perfect.” Pat smiled and adjusted a few strands of hair, blasting me with hairspray, then checked her watch. “A little behind, but we’re okay. Let’s have another glass of champagne to loosen Livy up, and then we’ll check in with Mr. Carlisle.”

“I’m not nervous.” I adjusted my breasts again, drawing Pat’s eyes.

She sucked her lip before saying, “You have a bra on.”

Bert’s face reddened. He turned away in a jerk, probably to keep himself from looking, and moved toward the table.

“A strapless one, since the dress is strapless.”

Pat shook her head. “Take it off. Sweetie, you’re twenty. Your breasts are perky and round. They won’t be that way forever. You need to let them free while you can. Trust me.”

“But…” I cupped the bottoms of my breasts.

“No. C’mon.” Pat led me to my bedroom and closed the door. Without consulting me further, she turned me around, unzipped the dress, then unhooked the bra. “You’ll thank me for this.”

“But…”

She zipped me back up and turned me around. “Much better. More natural. Now your cleavage doesn’t look store-bought. You are a masterpiece.” She kissed her fingers like an Italian might while admiring a plate of delicious pasta.

“I feel really exposed,” I said as I looked at myself in the mirror. “More comfortable, for sure, but… People are going to notice.”

“Oh, people will notice you. That is a given. Bert’s right—you’re going to blow them away. People pay good money to look like you, and I don’t mean on hair and makeup.”

She slapped my hands away from my chest. “Leave it. C’mon.”

I moaned as she led me to the living room.

Bert handed me a glass of champagne as Pat said, “Drink one now, one in the limo, and one on the plane. You’ll need it. I get the feeling you don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“What am I walking into?” I asked in confusion.

“He’s here!” Panic laced Bert’s voice. He dropped his phone into a pocket and came toward me. “Down that, Livy—no, drink it. You’ll need it.”

“He’s early,” Pat scoffed.

“Probably thought she might try to run.” Bert smiled as he waited for me to gulp my drink down before ushering me toward the door.

“Shoes!” I said.

“Where’s her wrap?” Pat asked, zooming around the room, picking things up.

“And the mess!” I glanced back at all the food and wrappers on the table.

A black silk wrap was thrown over my shoulders as Bert bent to my feet with my heels. I put my hand on his huge, meaty shoulder to balance as I lifted my foot.

“I’ll just tidy up really quick,” Bert said as he slipped on the second shoe.

“You’re not coming?” I asked in sudden panic. He’d become my cheerleader, of sorts. He was the guy that thought the same way I did about Hunter and the job—my silent partner in crime.

“Pat and I’ll be in a separate car. I’ll speed—it’ll be fine.” Bert straightened up, gave me a once-over to make sure I looked okay, and nodded. “I’ll walk you down.”

The buzzer rang. Bert put his hand out to keep me put as he pushed the button and said, “Yes?”

“You have an entourage now,” Pat said with a bounce in her step as she finished packing all her stuff. “And because you’ll enjoy it, I’m going to enjoy it. I love to witness someone’s first time.”

“It’s me,” came Hunter’s voice through the speaker.

A wash of excitement passed through my body as I heard his voice. And then a pang of regret, knowing that if I didn’t sign that contract, I would miss hearing that deep timbre. I’d miss seeing those smoldering eyes in that handsome face. I would no longer get to run my hands along that magnificent body, or be wrapped in his warm embrace.