The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire (22 page)

Dad had barely spoken to me since the chamber of commerce banquet; though he did inform me, via a brief and very uncomfortable phone call, that he had overheard my heated confrontation with Lily, and that he was as a result moving her to another office, effective immediately.

My own position with the company, meanwhile, was in immediate danger; it was up to me to find a new personal assistant, and to make up for my deception by procuring new clients and maintaining a solid working relationship with our existing clientele.

In the meantime, I feared that my status as Harry Clark’s son was in just as much danger, considering the fact that, since the night of the banquet, I had not been invited to any more corporate functions—or, for that matter, to any more family dinners, ballgames, or evenings out at the ballet or theater.

I really didn’t even feel very welcome at business meetings or office functions; oh, I still attended them whenever (very coldly) requested, but the ideas that I offered at these corporate functions were seldom warmly received. I just didn’t know what to do. How could I make things right with him? How could I explain away or apologize for my actions of the past months? My father barely looked at me these days and, well, that hurt.

It didn’t hurt as much, though, as the fact that Lily Ashton joined my father in the singular act of wanting absolutely nothing to do with me. We rarely saw each other in the hallways of Clark Industries; as a matter of fact, I’d managed to catch fleeting glimpses of her ducking into conference rooms and ladies restrooms (where she knew that even I would lack the nerve to follow her) in an attempt to avoid me. And it went without saying that the phone calls and e-mails I’d sent her in the wake of the chamber of commerce banquet had gone unanswered and, in all likelihood, discarded.

Of course
, I mused,
my last attempts to contact her all had taken place more than 10 days ago. Could it be that she had cooled off by now—that perhaps she would be open to at least having a conversation with me?

I could only hope so because, dammit, my heart and body ached for Lily Ashton. More accurately, they screamed for her.

I so missed my bright, beautiful, wonderful Lily—in my arms, in my bed, in my home, in my office. She was the one who had kept me together these last two years and, since the beginning of a faux mance that turned all too real, she had kept me happy—beyond all words and measure.

Not that I wasn’t happy before—and, I quickly reminded myself, I would be happy again. With a bevy of willing young beauties at my disposal, I did not need a steady girlfriend to give me what I needed.

In order to keep my job and, for that matter, my sanity, I needed to find a new personal assistant as soon as possible. Over the past few weeks I’d interviewed no fewer than 10 women for this position; most of them ex-girlfriends who had worked under me in the past—in more ways than one.

During the course of these interviews, I was reminded quickly as to why their periods of employment with me had been mercifully brief.

Some of them couldn’t type and chew gum at the same time and a few couldn’t even manage to walk and chew gum at the same time. And rest assured, they all chewed gum—constantly, and to the point that their dialect was nearly indecipherable. I couldn’t have these people answering my phones and greeting my clients; so while I did manage to make a few dates during our mercifully brief job interviews, rest assured I made no offers for long term employment.

Today, however, I was offered a glimmer of a hope in the form of an interview procured through a personnel agency; one with an individual named Leslie Peterson.

The moment that Leslie walked through the door, I couldn’t help but notice a few things about my prospective employee. Leslie, it turned out, was completely bald and in possession of a 5 o’clock shadow. Leslie also came complete with a speaking voice that was significantly deeper than my own.

“
Are you the person who came to apply for my personal assistant position?” I queried, cocking a curious eyebrow as I engaged my visitor in an unbelievably firm handshake.

The man nodded.

“
Les Peterson, at your service,” he barked. “I just got out of the military and am looking for a PA position much like the one I used to hold in the Army, where I held down a desk job after coming home from Iraq.”

I smiled.

“
That sounds great, Les,” I told him, adding as I inclined my head in his direction, “Do you have a resume handy, and would you be willing to take a typing test?”

A half hour later I escorted my new personal assistant to his desk and although I was most hopeful about the talents and contributions he might bring to my agency, I felt very odd about seeing someone else in Lily’s chair.

Indeed, I thought with a sigh; there would never be another Lily Ashton.

Chapter
Thirteen

~

Oliver

That weekend I enjoyed one of the dates I had made with one of my interviewees; a recent college graduate who—when she wasn’t out hunting for a personal assistant’s position for which she wasn’t remotely qualified—was balancing a promising career as a model/actress. Or was that an actress/model?

Oh, I suppose I had a nice enough time with Courtney—that was her name, wasn’t it? We caught a quick dinner at a seafood joint, took in a movie, then headed back to my place, and of course to my bed; a place where, eight hours later, we still laid ensconced between my sleek satin sheets. And, oddly enough, we reclined with our backs facing each other; seeming to cling to our respective sides of the bed with a sure sense of pure determination.

The passion that we’d shared had been hot enough, I guess, but strangely devoid of feeling; for a while we’d devoured each other like hungry animals, we’d done little in the way of talking, cuddling, laughing together, or even deep kissing. Our encounter—indeed, our entire date—just seemed to lack the intimacy that I’d shared with… well, with a certain other woman I just couldn’t seem to get off of my mind.

When I looked at Courtney, lying golden and naked in the sheets of my bed, I saw a beautiful, golden blonde without a single physical flaw. What I did not see, however, was the keen light of intelligence that shone through in Lily’s eyes, her speech, her every move and mannerism. And while Courtney’s bedroom techniques were impressive enough—indeed, I was pretty sure she’d been an acrobat at one time or another, before she’d opted to pursue an alternative career as an actress/model/rather ineffective personal assistant—she didn’t hold and cradle me, the way Lily had—making me feel loved and appreciated.

And now that the cold light of morning shone itself so brutally on our encounter, I had no desire to spoon or canoodle with the fair Courtney. I heaved a sigh of relief when she finally opened her eyes, rolled over and said, “Last night was fun, babe, but I have to get to the gym.”

After dressing in opposite corners of the room and saying our goodbyes with a quick, awkward kiss, Courtney took leave of the premises; leaving me finally and mercifully alone.

Now then
, I plopped myself down on the corner of my bed, blowing out a gust of frustrated air as I considered my weekend plans.
The weekend is still young. I have theater tickets for tonight, along with a dinner reservation at Le Jardin. The only question is, which lovely young lady will do me the honor of being my date this evening?

Kelli, for her part, hadn’t spoken to me since the chamber of commerce banquet. No worries, though; my not so little black book brimmed over with names of ravishing young women—most of which, as so many had duly noted beforehand, boasted generous cleavage and flawless features.

Ultimately, though, I found myself dialing the number of an older lady named Ann, whos digits did not reside in my little black book.

“
Dr. Goldman?” My voice trembled as I heard the sharp, very authoritative “hello” that could belong only to my resident psychologist, Dr. Ann Goldman. “I know it’s been a while, but I really need to talk to you.”

Soon I found myself ensconced in a luxurious office space adorned with neat, upscale furnishings and painted in soft pastels and assorted soothing shades.

Yet I felt anything but soothed as I sat on the hard edge of a lavender cushioned chair; one located at the square center of a room where people confessed their greatest sins.

And, I supposed, I was there to tell mine.

“
I guess I really screwed up, Doc,” I told Dr. Goldman, releasing my words on a hefty sigh.

“
Ya think?” Dr. Goldman replied, no doubt offering her most sensitive, astute professional assessment of my particular situation. “Oliver, there’s no need to tell me about how you lied to your father—or, furthermore, how you involved an innocent woman in your deception. Harry told me everything, the day after the chamber of commerce banquet.”

I nodded.

“
Neither one of them is talking to me,” I revealed, adding as I shook my head from side to side, “And while I understand, of course why Dad is angry, seeing as how I deceived him about my relationship with Lily, just to save my own hide, I’m not as clear as to the cause of Lily’s anger. I mean, she agreed to our plan from the beginning and, I must add, she got a lot of expensive clothes and jewels in the bargain.”

Dr. Goldman nodded.

“
She also got a broken heart,” she reminded me, staring me straight in the eyes. “Tell me the truth, Oliver. Did the faux mance get just a little too real? Did you sleep with Lily?”

I sighed.

“
Yes, OK, we did sleep together,” I admitted, wincing in my seat as I added quickly, “But I in no way forced or coerced Lily to go to bed with me. I in no way threatened her job, and used absolutely no physical force at any point in the encounter.”

“
Did you seduce her?” Ann pressed, arching her eyebrows to curious effect.

I shrugged.

“
Yes, I suppose I did,” I released on a sigh. “It was her birthday, and I wanted to make her feel good—to feel special and valued. I do care about Lily—very much, in fact. I just think now that it may have been a mistake to go all the way, so to speak.”

Dr. Goldman leaned forward, locking our gazes as she said in a low tone, “Why was it a mistake, Oliver? Were you afraid that she was getting too involved in the situation—or perhaps, that you were?”

I sat back hard in my chair, suddenly feeling as though I’d been punched in the gut.

“
You don’t need to answer, Oliver,” Ann allowed, raising her hands between us. “I’ve gotten the idea from our recent visits that you’ve come to care about Lily, far more than you’re willing to admit. You in all likelihood cut her off after your night together—not just to save her feelings, which you ended up hurting anyway, but to save your own. And at any rate, you sent her mixed messages and, as an end result, you broke her heart.” She paused here, her voice amplifying as she added, “You managed to drive away the only good, smart quality woman you’ve ever dated not to mention one hell of an employee. She could have saved you, Oliver, both personally and professionally, and you completely and totally ruined everything.”

“
Correct me if I’m wrong, Doc,” I interrupted her, sinking lower and lower in my seat until I feared falling out of it completely. “But I thought it was your job as my analyst to make me feel—oh I dunno—better about my life? I gotta say that, so far today, you’re doing a passably sucky job of that…”