Bargaining with the Boss (2 page)

"Nothing, I—"

"Please, for the love of god,
don't
tell me you were spying on Eliza. I told you, my fiancé’s sister is off limits. Rachael read me the riot act about it. She said that Eliza's been through a lot and this job means so much to her and…" Garret stopped short, then let out a long-suffering sigh. "She's been worried about everything since we booked our flight for the wedding. So, for my sake, just for this once, could you please…?"

Brooks made his way over to his desk, doing his best to suppress an eye roll. Why was it that everyone thought he had some kind of compulsion to just whip out his penis in front of every live woman he met? Sure, Eliza was nice, but she was practically a kid. She was still in her early twenties, and if he wanted a girl like that, the last place he'd find her was in this office.

Especially after last time.

He settled back into his chair, and then kicked his feet up onto the wide, lacquered desk. "Was there a reason for your visit or did you just want to make sure your record was still broken?"

He cocked an eyebrow and Garret loosed a smile. "I haven't said it
that
much."

After settling his feet back into the floor, Brooks reached into his desk and pulled out a little notepad. "I'm actually keeping a count. This brings you into the double digits."

He glanced at the sheet. In actuality, he'd been counting the number of times he'd mentioned Natalie's divorces in comparison to the number of times she'd mentioned his alleged philandering. He added two more dashes to his column, but, as always, they were neck-and-neck.

Garret sat in the leather chair in front of the desk and shrugged. “I’m just concerned."

"About?" Brooks asked.

"Eliza. Weren't you listening?"

"Oh, right, that. Well, you've got nothing to worry about. She's not my type." There. And let that be an end to it. He had more important things to deal with today than his brother's nagging. Like, for example, trying to finally pull into the lead in his personal game with Natalie.

Apparently, Garret didn't get the message, though, because he kept talking. "Regardless, it's not really a secret that your type is...well, it encompasses a large range of specimens."

Brooks looked up from his pad, then at his brother, then at the pad again. "Again, I ask you, why are you here?"

"We have—wait, you never told me why you were standing by the door like that."

"You never asked."

"I'm asking now," Garret said.

Brooks sat the notepad on the desk in front of him, then leaned back in his chair and weighed his options. He could lie and see if he could come up with something believable on the spot. Of course, if his brother didn't believe him, he'd probably just assume that Brooks had been staring out the window at Eliza.

But the truth...

The truth had it's own problematic spots, even if it was the safer of the two options. Maybe if he kept it vague, he'd be able to get away with saying almost nothing at all while still satisfying Garret's curiosity.

It was worth a shot.

"I was just gathering a little intel, that's all," he said.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Okay, so vague wasn't going to work. Time for a back-up plan.

"Well, you know Natalie and I have what one might call a unique relationship." He steepled his fingers, trying his best to act casual, but it lasted for all of two seconds.

Garret guffawed. "If by 'special' you mean hostile and semi-homicidal."

"I think semi-homicidal is a little much. She pretends to hate me—"

"She doesn't
pretend.
I have seventeen complaints about you on my desk from last month alone. She said in one of them that you—"

Brooks held up a hand. "We don't have to parse out the details. I just heard something outside my office, and I was seeing what was going on."

"You cannot date Natalie Gains." Garret said.

"What makes you think—?"

"You cannot date Natalie Gains." He repeated.

Again with this broken record routine of his. Before Brooks got the chance to open his rebuttal, though, Garret took another swing at his defense. "I would have you date Eliza before Natalie."

"Why do you always assume it's about sex?" Brooks asked.

Though, of course, that didn't mean it
wasn't
about sex. At least, not entirely.

"Because everything is about sex. And the last person you need to have sex with is Natalie."

"Does she have a disease or something?"

"No, she has a moral compass. And a history. And a mean right hook."

Brooks laughed. "I can attest to that. The right hook, at least. I don't know. I caught her talking about me with Eliza—"

"Warning her?"

Brooks stared at his brother. "I'm sick of being treated like the only person in the office who has ever had sex. You're marrying one of our employees for god's sake."

"That was different—"

Brooks didn't care about the explanations. He didn't need to hear them, especially if he couldn't give any of his own.

Besides, nothing his brother had to say was going to change Brooks' mind.

“Look, say what you want, but I’m going to stay away from your sister-in-law. Everything else is none of your business.” Brooks interrupted him.

“I beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want, but I don’t have to listen.”

He'd been toying and teasing Natalie Gains for too long to give up on her now. There was just something about her that held him captive. Like, for example, why she never quite looked him in the eye. Or why she’d decided to be his enemy.

Well, she wouldn’t be that for much longer. He was interested in Natalie Gains and he was
going
to change her mind. Even if his usual methods didn't work on her, he'd find an angle. He'd figure out what it was that made her tick.

“She’s not playing cat and mouse with you. She’s playing coyote and tiny, defenseless dog. I don’t want to tell you which one you are.” Garret pleaded, but Brooks laughed.

“Like I said, leave Natalie to me.” He’d figure something out.

Because if he didn’t?

He might just lose his damned mind.

T
he following day
, his new secretary shot up the second Brooks Adams approached his office. She held a wad of crinkled papers in her outstretched hand and a nervous smile was plastered on her face. "There've been a lot of calls. And, um, there was something else."

She stooped over her desk and moved around papers—some of which looked like clippings from magazines—but he knocked the wooden surface with his knuckle.

"It's okay, Eliza. I'm sure it will come to you. I'm going to sort through these, all right?"

The little frown between her eyebrows softened and she plopped into her desk chair again. "You got it."

He nodded, thanked her, and then walked into his office. She was a good kid. A terrible secretary, but then, he'd gotten used to lots of terrible secretaries. At least she tried.

Besides, distracted as he was, it might be nice to have an equally distracted secretary. She wouldn’t notice his unusual behavior or pepper him with questions about what he was doing. Like, for example, why he’d spent the rest of yesterday afternoon scrawling out a list of all the women he’d seduced and how he’d seduced them.

It was official. No one he’d ever been with was like Natalie Gains. They’d all been easy to deal with, talk to, and manage. He had one of three moves that worked every single time.

1. Saying hello

2. Playful teasing

3. Ignoring them completely

All his life, the system had been fool-proof. But now?

He shook his head. Maybe he hadn’t been ignoring Natalie enough. Whatever the case, he had to figure out something and fast. Every day, it felt like her skirts were shorter than the last and the amount of time he spent wondering what was underneath was quickly outweighing the amount of time he actually spent working.

Come on, Brooks, think.

He'd tried everything.

Everything in his power to get her to go out with him. Nothing came to him except old movies where a sharecropper’s daughter would get kidnapped and blackmailed and the like. It might be effective, but it wasn’t exactly his scene. Too
Beauty and the Beast.

He glanced at the wad of papers on his desk. Maybe if he made his calls, something would come to him out of the blue. At the very least, he’d be able to finally get some work done.

He unwrinkled a few of the papers, but before he got the chance to read any of them, his door shot open again.

"I'm so sorry. I forgot your newspaper. It's here." She flopped the
Gazette
onto his desk, then rubbed her hands together. "I'm going to grab your coffee now."

"That's okay—“ He started.

"Right. Okay." She marched through the door and left it wide open.

One day. One day she'd get it right, but that day was probably not going to be here any time soon.

He crossed the room quickly, but when his fingers met the doorknob, he caught a glimpse of Natalie. She was staring at him, a fresh bouquet of roses already overcrowding her desk.

He should have outlawed the damn things. Maybe then everyone in the office wouldn't have to be taunted by them. Or, at least, he wouldn't be.

It had been going on for weeks, and she still wouldn't mutter a word about them, no matter how he antagonized her. Worse still, those flowers weren't even the tip of the iceberg where the mystery of Natalie Gains was concerned.

He clicked the door closed, then leaned against the wood for a minute before returning to his wide, mahogany desk.

He'd figure Natalie out. Just because he hadn't succeeded yet didn't mean he never would. It had only been a couple of months, after all. Longer than any other seduction he'd tried, but not a lost cause.

He just had to try a new route.

Again.

He glanced at the newspaper. Another image of Franco Del Rossi graced the cover and he rolled his eyes.

Better you than me, man.

Maybe this thing with Del Rossi would buy him some time out of the media for a while. Garret might not like it at first, but it might be a good opportunity to change his image, right?

Maybe
that
was what had been holding Natalie back. All those pictures and stories and… Maybe if he settled down...

An image of Natalie snuggling next to him on a wide, leather sofa flashed through his mind, but he shook it away.

He was getting too caught up here. He wasn't going to change himself, least of all for one woman who considered him her mortal nemesis.

He grabbed the stack of papers again. The topmost one was stained with coffee and the last few numbers had been smudged away. Luckily, though, that same person had called three more times.

In case he happened to miss one or two or seven of them.

Just like she did nearly every morning since he'd seen her at the museum's charity ball last month.

Debbie Bowhart. Heiress to a department store mega franchise and, apparently, the world's most insistent woman. If she kept on like this, she might just show up in the office, waiting for him.

Or worse, hovering over his bed at night, a pair of scissors in one hand and a lock of his hair in the other.

He glanced at the phone, and then picked up the receiver with a sinking heart. He had to put an end to this before things got ugly, and what time was there like the present?

He dialed her number quickly, and the line clicked to life even faster.

"Brooks." She sounded breathless as she said his name, like an old movie star when her love rode into the sunset. An oddly fitting comparison.

"Hello, Debbie, I was just returning your call...
s
." He smiled, hoping she'd be able to hear it in his voice. Maybe then at least she wouldn't go to the papers and slander him.

Maybe.

"Thank you so much. I just wanted to let you know what a wonderful time I had on our date."

Their date? He racked his brain, but he couldn't think of a single date he'd taken her on. Was she talking about the gala? Sure, they'd been friendly. Maybe a little too friendly, but when he hadn't called, he thought she'd get the message.

"I'm glad." He cleared his throat.

What was the easiest, nicest way to let her down? He tried to come up with options, but his mind was entirely blank. Or, at least it would have been if Natalie hadn't been so insistent on filling up his every thought.

"
So
," Debbie extended the word, then finally continued, "I was wondering if you might, um, want to do it again. You know, go out. I have something important to—"

"I'd love to, but..."

I have swine flu?

I'm asexual?

I'm allergic to you?

"I can’t this week," he said. Lamely.

“Right, okay, well, another time, then.” Luckily, she didn’t press for a different time. Instead, she seemed to rush him off the phone, cutting the small talk to the barest of minimums.

He said his goodbyes, then clicked off the phone and leaned back in his chair.

Why had he done that? Why couldn't he just be honest and tell her that he wasn't interested?

Because it would hurt her.

Even with all the women he'd dated, he'd been careful to seek out the ones who wouldn't have been affected by their relationship. They all had understood, like he did, that their relationship was maintained solely for the purpose of having fun and meeting needs.

A woman like Debbie Bowhart wouldn't understand that.

She wasn't power hungry or starving for attention. She was just a sweet woman who wanted someone to spend time with.

Unfortunately, that was not--and never had been--Brooks' MO.

Great.

Now he had one woman he couldn't get rid of and one woman he couldn't get a hold of. If only there was a way to switch them out, he'd have been golden. He picture the two women strapped to chairs, a mad scientists switching out their brains. Or he could make some kind of deal with the devil and…

Wait. A deal.

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

He glanced toward his door again, imagining what Natalie might be seething about in her cubicle. This would be a new angle for him. He could try to bribe her. No, not bribe, that was pathetic.

He'd have to bargain. But what could he bargain for? Or with?

He wasn’t sure, but first and foremost he'd have to find a way to get her alone and in a mood to haggle. Or, at least
not
in a mood to kill.

From there, he'd find a way to seduce her. Once that was over, his nagging curiosity would be out of his system and he could handle his issue with Debbie.

Then everything would be back to normal.

He hoped.

B
eauty
and the Beast

I
n an exclusive interview
with Elana Torreg this week, supermodel Gianna Toreinni revealed that she has split from billionaire boyfriend Franco Del Rossi. Says Toreinni, "he's not the guy you see in the suits and yachts. He's a monster." Toreinni went on to detail her troubled home life with the infamous playboy, stating that the issues with his family ran deep and were, at times, "alarming."

A
monster
? Franco?

What the hell was this woman talking about?

And why hadn't Franco called about this?

Natalie had thought the story would end with their split and, inevitably, Franco heading out with some flight attendant he'd met on his way to one place or another, but this... She hadn't expected the low blow. Especially not from someone famous in his or her own right like Gianna.

Natalie sat her coffee down along with the newspaper, and then scavenged through her purse for her sparkly white smartphone. She tapped on the screen, not bothering to consider the time difference. Besides, who could even tell where Franco might be from one minute to the other.

When he answered, his voice was groggy. "Hello?"

"Finally. I've been trying to reach you for days. Are you some kind of idiot?" She spluttered.

"Hey there, you." This time, his grogginess had become a groan

"Don't 'hey there' me. What is going on?"

There was a pause over the phone, and then he asked in his thick Italian accent, "With Gianna?"

"No, with the Greek government.
Of course
with Gianna. She's raking you over the coals. Have you seen the paper today?"

"In America? No. But if it's anything like the one here—"

"Where are you right now? You know what, no, it doesn't matter. The point is that something has to be done about this. She's starting to talk about the family, and if you mother catches wind of this—" Natalie winced, thinking of the wiry-haired Mrs. Del Rossi. Most of the time, she was an amiable enough old woman, if a little old school in her family values. But when she was angry...

Natalie shook her head, remembering when the old woman had thrown a hundred year old vase at Franco's head in the family's summer home.

"Mama will be fine. This isn't the first time something like this has happened and it won't be the last."

"What do you mean?
What happened
?"

"With Gianna, dummy. I thought you liked her. Granted, she was a little...dim-witted."

"Mama said she was too dumb to boil water, but just dumb enough to burn it."

"Yes, that sounds like your mother." Natalie suppressed a laugh. It was just like Isabella Del Rossi to tell it like it was. Frankly, Natalie was just surprised the old woman hadn't said it to the model's face.

"She wanted to have kids, Nattie. What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, maybe talk to her about it? She said she came home to find her bags packed and waiting by the door."

Franco grumbled, "That's not
exactly
true."

"Yeah, it didn't sound like you to put all that effort into packing."

He ignored her jibe, and went on. "Look, there was nothing for us to talk about. I'm not ready for kids."

"Can't afford them?" She mocked. The Del Rossi’s had enough money to give God himself a hefty loan, and enough grit to charge him a hell of an interest rate. If Franco were going to claim he couldn't have kids, it'd be for some other equally non-legitimate reason.

"Don't be like that," he said.

"No,
you
don't be like that. I'm sick of watching this happen over and over again. You run when things get serious."

"What's so wrong with that? I think you might have preferred that—"

"Franco, you need to get out in front of this." Her stomach churned as she cut him off. She knew what he was going to say, but she didn't want to hear it. Didn't need to.

"Maybe I just haven't found the right one. It doesn't matter. This whole thing with Gianna will pass as soon as she's dating a big-time actor and has more reasons to be in magazines. That's all it ever is with women."

"Women like that, maybe. But if you tried something or someone else—"

"Give it a rest." It was more a command than a question, so she bit back the urge to poke at him again.

"Fine, fine. You're right. You're in charge of your own life."

"You called me a couple weeks ago before all this started, though. Did you need something?"

Natalie hesitated, thinking of those pernicious roses on her desk. They were probably waiting for her now. Suffocating her work space.

But if she told Franco...

"Listen, we'll talk about it later, okay? I've got to go."

"Come on, you can't just talk about it?"

She bit her bottom lip. She'd given him enough to worry about today.

Those roses and the baggage that came with them would just have to wait.

For now, at least.

"Nope. Call me later." She clicked the phone off and stuffed it back in her bag.

That call had been perfectly useless. Franco was just going to let this woman talk bad about him for no reason without any retaliation made her mad enough to spit. And yet...

Her stomach churned again, thinking of all the things Franco could have said to her, but hadn't.

At the end of the day, she knew that she was the last one to be reprimanding him about something like that.