Married by Midnight (The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series, #12) (5 page)

“I’m Golden Browne,” she said quietly.  “I’m here to see Mr. Davidoff.”

The woman nodded.  “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes.  For three o’clock.”

The woman gave her another smile.  “Right on time.”  She pressed a button on her desk.  “Ms. Browne’s here for her appointment with Mr. Davidoff.”

A voice crackled in the speaker.  “Send her right up, please.”

She directed Golden to the elevators and then she was on her own.  “Well, here goes nothing,” she whispered and stepped inside then closed the doors behind her.

When she got to the top floor of the building she stepped into an office suite that must have been designed by Juan Montoya himself.  The style was open and comfortable but so sophisticated.  The colors and textures reminded her nature.  She didn’t get the chance to fully admire it, though.  A woman, tall and very fashionably dressed, was approaching.

“Welcome, Miss Browne,” she said and reached out to shake Golden’s hand.  “I’m Sharon Crow.  Mr. Davidoff is waiting for you.  Please follow me.”

“Thank you.”  It was a soft croak but that was all Golden could manage just then.  She just wanted to get in there and get it over with.  She followed Ms. Crow toward heavy-looking double doors where the woman tapped lightly then pulled them open.  “Miss Browne to see you,” she announced then stepped in and stood to one side, beckoning for Golden to enter.

Tentatively she walked in expecting to see the monster behind his desk, a terrifying scowl on his whiskered face.  Instead, Golden found herself face to face with a startlingly handsome man with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes.  And, to her astonishment, he was smiling at her.

“Miss Browne,” he said, coming forward to greet her.  “Thank you for coming.”

“Th...thank you.”  Thrown totally off course, Golden could only stare.  Where was the brute who’d called her here so he could reprimand her for her stupid fumble?  Was this man even Reed Davidoff?  He didn’t look much older than she was.

Maybe this man was another assistant to the owner?  Golden gave a furtive glance around but no, now that Ms. Crow was gone they were alone.

“M...Mr. Davidoff?” she asked just as he reached out a hand to her.

“At your service,” he said with a gallant bow.  “Please.  Have a seat.”

Golden raised her eyebrows.  She couldn’t help it.  She’d never been good at hiding her feelings.  Reed Davidoff was no beast.  Just the opposite.  He was acting like a prince.

Giving him a tiny smile and a nod of thanks she walked over to the chair he was offering and sank down.

He followed her but instead of going to sit in his own chair on the opposite side of the desk he remained standing, hands shoved into the pockets of his smart black trousers, and he was staring at her.

Golden glanced up then away.  Why was he looking at her like that, like she was some long-awaited toy he was itching to play with?  It made no sense.  Wasn’t he supposed to be hating her right now?

Then suddenly he blinked, seeming to catch himself.  “I’m sorry,” he said with a rueful smile.  “Where are my manners?  You must be wondering why I called you here.”

Golden wasn’t going to deny it.  The suspense was killing her.  She nodded.  “I am.”

“I have something I’d like to show you.”  This time his smile was enigmatic.  He turned away and headed for his desk.

And with every step Golden’s eyes were on him.  What in the world could he have to show her?  Outside of the fact that she’d worked at his runway show he didn’t know her from Adam.

But apart from being curious Golden was staring at Reed Davidoff for other reasons.  Rather selfish reasons if she should admit it.  His tailored suit fit his body to perfection and when he turned she had the ideal opportunity to observe him freely.  Even a novice to fashion like her could tell that what he was wearing was worth more than she would ever hope to earn from months of work.

But it wasn’t his clothes that held her attention.  It was the way he wore them and the way he moved, so lithe and fluid, his body lean and obviously muscled in all the right places.

Golden could feel the warmth of a blush rising in her cheeks.  Dear Lord, she’d been staring at the man.  At his bum, no less.  She’d never in her whole life done anything like that.  What was happening to her?

At that moment Reed Davidoff – who’d reached down to pull something from the bottom drawer of his desk – glanced up and she could see from the look in his eyes that he’d noticed her blush.  Fiddlesticks.

To her relief he released her gaze and lifted an all-white box and rested it on the table.  Then slowly, almost like a magician bent on tantalizing his audience before an amazing revelation, he lifted the lid from the box.

Golden held her breath.  What in the world could he have that was so special?

And then, deliberately, he reached in and lifted out his prize.  In his hands was the gold slipper she’d run off and left behind on the runway.  A single left foot.

“Recognize this?” he asked, his smile gone and his face suddenly serious.

“Yes, Mr. Davidoff,” she said, shifting her bag on her lap.  “The slipper I...lost on the runway.”  Not knowing where he was going with this she dropped her gaze to her hands.  “I’m very sorry about what happened.  The slippers...they were too big and...I was supposed to be a dresser at the show, not a model.”  The last part came out in a rush.  Good Lord, this was so embarrassing.  She could feel the heat rising in her face and she knew she would be raspberry-red by now.  Burning with shame she stole a glance at the man who held the slipper, the flaming piece of evidence that would convict her. 

Reed Davidoff was shaking his head but his smile was back.  In fact, it was more like a grin.  Thank heavens.

“You may call me Reed,” he said, “and may I call you Golden?”

“Of course.”  Quickly she nodded.  If he’d asked to call her bunny rabbit she would have said yes, she was so relieved.

“There’s no need to feel bad, Golden.  What the heck were they thinking when they gave you those slippers?  Look at how tiny you are.”  And then he was staring at her again, making her want to squirm.  “So what do you do, Golden,” he asked, “when you’re not testing your modeling skills on the runway?”

“I...I...nothing.”  The question had caught her off guard, making her stutter, and if she hadn’t looked stupid before she certainly did now.

He cocked an eyebrow at her.  “Nothing?”

“I’m unemployed,” she said quickly, “but I’m job hunting.  The temp position at your show was my first break.”

“I see,” he said, looking thoughtful.  Then he frowned.  “You’re not British, are you?”

She smiled.  He’d noticed.  “I moved to London when I was fourteen but I’m American.  From Atlanta, Georgia.”

“I thought I heard the charming lilt of a Southern accent.”

That made Golden chuckle.  “My friends at boarding school used to tease me endlessly about it.  Even after six years here in England it’s so easy to pick up that I was transplanted.”  Then she tilted her head, her curiosity getting the better of her.  He might think her forward to ask but she had a question of her own.  “But what about you?  You’re obviously not English.”

Reed nodded.  “That’s one thing we have in common.  I’m from New York but I’ve been living in London for the past three years and loving every minute of it.  I love its old world charm.”  Then he shook his head.  “But enough about me.  Let’s get back to you and your job situation.”  Then he chuckled.  “Or maybe I should say your jobless situation.”

Golden responded with a cool smile.  She didn’t see how he could find her state of unemployment to be funny.  She was too polite to say anything, though.  She would let her host have his laugh at her expense.

But then his next words made the smile freeze on her face. 

“So what do you think about coming to work for me?”

Golden’s eyes widened and she sucked in her breath.  “Sorry?”  Her voice a breathless rush, she stared at the man who sat there regarding her with a satisfied smile.  Had she heard him right?  Had he just offered her a job?”

“I just offered you a job,” he said as if he’d read the very words that flashed across her mind.  “So is it a yes or a no?”

“But...are you serious?”  Her brow knitted in a frown.  “You don’t even know me.  And...I have no idea what this job would be.  How can I say yes?”

He shrugged.  “I know you’re a size four in clothing, five in shoes.”  Then his eyes grew intense.  “Besides, I know enough about you to know that you have integrity.  You’re honest and caring and you’d give your right arm to save someone else’s skin, especially someone you love.”

“After meeting me face to face just this one time you know all that?”

He chuckled.  “It’s all in the eyes, Golden, all in the eyes.”  Then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk.  “As you can see, my personal assistant won’t be around much longer.”

Slowly, Golden nodded.  She’d noticed it immediately. Sharon Crow was in the late stages of pregnancy.  Although her billowy top covered her well she still looked like she was ready to pop.  It was a mystery to Golden how she still seemed so bright and full of energy.  Weren’t pregnant women supposed to be lethargic?

“I need someone to fill in while she’s out on maternity leave,” he said. “I think you’d be the perfect candidate.”

“But don’t you have her replacement already?  She looks so close...” She paused.  What if he thought her presumptuous for asking?  He probably wasn’t used to anyone questioning him, what with him being the owner of the corporation.  She glanced at him but he’d shifted his attention to the slipper which he was now placing back into its container.

He dropped the box back in the bottom drawer, slammed it shut then looked up.  “I was supposed to get someone from another department but I’ll cancel that,” he said.  “So,” he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, left ankle atop his right knee, “can you start tomorrow?”

R
eed was actually surprised when early next morning little Miss Golden Browne showed up at his office dressed in a simple black skirt, black pumps and white blouse.  She looked like a schoolgirl, not someone newly employed to a company promoting high fashion.

The afternoon before, he’d bullied the poor girl into accepting his job offer.  She’d hesitated and then began to object, saying she’d like to think about it, but he’d told her he had to have her answer right then or the offer was off the table.  She’d confused the heck out of him, looking eager one moment then frightened the next, but his threat of withdrawing the offer did the trick.  She accepted. 

And now she was here, even though after she’d gone through the door he’d begun to doubt that she would return.  He was glad she did.

Just like he’d known she would Sharon took the girl under her wing, making her feel so comfortable that the tight grimace she’d been wearing when she walked in relaxed into a genuine smile.

Reed left the two women going through a stack of files and headed back to his office where he was soon absorbed in planning his next major event, the Paris Fashion Week scheduled for April.  He was surprised when maybe an hour later he heard a knock on the door and Sharon walked in.  She was not smiling.

Reed frowned and laid the paper he was holding on top of the shiny desktop.  “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head but then she checked that she’d closed the door fully.  Satisfied, she turned and approached his desk.  “How much do you know about this girl you hired?”

His frown deepened.  “Nothing.  Or next to nothing.  Why?”

“So I guess you don’t know that she’s practically an orphan in her own home.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  As he was speaking he was rising.  He got up and went over to pull out one of the chairs so that Sharon could sink down onto it.  He knew his assistant was a tough cookie but, as hugely pregnant as she was, he wanted her off her feet as much as possible.

“Thanks,” she said as she leaned back into the chair and thrust her feet forward, staring at them quizzically like she hadn’t seen them in a long time.

Reed went back to his chair.  “So what were you saying about her being an orphan?”

Sharon tore her eyes away from her feet.  “Say thank God you’re a man,” she said with a wry grin, “and never have to go through this.  My ankles look like tree trunks.”  Then she sobered up.  “But anyway, that’s not important.  What’s important is that Golden almost didn’t make it to work this morning.”

“And why is that?”  Reed cocked his head as he stared at Sharon.  Her story was getting stranger by the minute.

Sharon straightened up in the chair.  She looked like she wanted to lean forward but then seemed to change her mind.  Her balloon-shaped belly was probably a hindrance.  “She was trying to explain to me why she seemed so apprehensive when she came in this morning.  She wants this job, there’s no doubt about that, but apparently her stepfather is against it.”

“Her working in the fashion industry?”

“Her working at all.”  Sharon shook her head. “Can you believe it?  It doesn’t make any sense.  The girl is twenty years old and he doesn’t want her to go out to work.”

“You’re right,” Reed said, watching the righteous indignation cross Sharon’s face.  “It doesn’t make sense at all.  Why would he adopt an attitude like that?”

“Something to do with her mother and his wanting to take charge of everything.”  Sharon shrugged.  “That’s as much as I could figure out from the little she told me.  It sounds to me like the man is nothing but a control freak who’s trying to keep her and her mother under his thumb.  Why else would he want to prevent the girl from earning a living?”

“Sounds to me like he’s bent on stifling her independence,” Reed said, his thoughts going to the girl who was working just outside his office door.  Now he was glad he’d insisted on her answer before she’d left his office.  If she’d gone home to think about it as she’d said, with all that pressure from her stepfather, he probably would never have seen her again.

“Well, I won’t let him.  The nerve of that bloody beast.”  Sharon was glaring now, obviously taking the whole thing to heart.