Who Wants to Marry a Billionaire? (6 page)

       Kennedy
scrutinized the credit card, and then looked at Nina with wide eyes, “This is a
joke right?  Like I’m going to be punked by a camera crew any minute because I
think I’m getting a job with the DeVeres?”

       Slowly
shaking her head back and forth, Nina looked at Kennedy with utmost
seriousness.  “No joke.  I need someone with fashion sense, and I need allies. 
I need someone to play for Team Nina Alves.”

       Kennedy
handed the card back to Nina with a conspiratorial smile, “Okay, Nina Alves, I’m
in.”

Chapter Nine

       Nina
rumbled up in the Porsche to the front of the posh restaurant on Tremont where
Daniel had asked her to meet him.  The valets took one look at the car, and
Nina thought a fistfight was going to break out between the three of them as
they all rushed to open her car door. 

Emerging from
the car with the help of the winning valet, Nina was thankful she was wearing
jeans. And now she truly couldn’t understand why all those socialites and
Hollywood starlets went out on the town in dresses without underwear. Several
paparazzi, seeing the Carrera GT, immediately ran to shoot whoever was getting
out of the car, before they even knew the identity of the driver.

       As Nina
stood up and scanned the sidewalk, the paparazzi looked really confused—a
completely unknown woman driving a GT?  Maybe it was just a marketing stunt,
but they continued to snap away.   Nina saw Daniel on the sidewalk outside the restaurant,
pecking at his phone, a bodyguard standing a discreet distance away.  He
looked, she thought, like a young titan of industry.  He wore a light grey,
double-breasted bespoke suit with a subtle plaid pattern of darker grey and
light blue.  His shirt was a robin’s egg blue and white pin stripe, and his tie
had a dark red field with the tiniest blue and grey pattern sprinkled into
it.   A white silk handkerchief was neatly folded in the breast pocket.  It was
polished, the kind of combination that shouldn’t exactly work but in fact does,
because too much matching is the hallmark of an amateur fashionista.

       Nina
tried calling to him, but her voice was still hoarse and he didn’t hear her
over the Porsche’s engine as the valet eased it away from the curb.  She
croaked “Daniel,” but this time, it was the paparazzi that heard her, and they went
wild.  A mystery woman was arriving in a Carrera GT to meet Daniel DeVere?  It
was a feeding frenzy.  Suddenly she was mobbed.

       Hearing a
commotion, Daniel glanced up from his phone as Nina waved at him helplessly
from within the crowd of snapping photogs.  Then they started pushing her
around, and Nina felt trapped, and started to panic.

       Daniel’s
jaw nearly dropped when he saw her.  He knew it was Nina, but this was no Nina
that he’d ever seen.  She looked incredible, and exotic, and…hopelessly
overwhelmed.   Stuffing the phone into a pocket, he felt upset with himself for
never considering that Nina would fall prey to the pack of paparazzi that were
always sniffing around him.  She was being compensated for her troubles, Daniel
reminded himself, but this was too much. 

       Before
his bodyguard could stop him, Daniel grabbed one paparazzo by the jacket and
pulled the photographer out of the way as he waded in to get Nina.  Another one
blinded him with a flash, and angry, Daniel pushed at the camera to get it out
of his face.  The photographer faked falling down, and started screaming that
Daniel had assaulted him.  Daniel glared at him as he grabbed Nina’s hand, put
a protective arm around her shoulders, and quickly pushed back through the
melee and into the restaurant as his bodyguard scrambled to open up a corridor
for them. 

       Once
inside, they were on private property and the photogs couldn’t follow.  Nina
felt a little stunned and didn’t know what to say.  The aggressiveness of the
photographers was more than she could ever have imagined.  Daniel held her at
arm’s length, a hand on each of her shoulders.  “Are you okay?  I’m really
sorry, I should have seen that coming.”  Nina bobbed her head up and down,
still dazed.  Daniel raised a finger in the air, and the maître d’ immediately
materialized.  Without taking his eyes away from Nina, he simply said “private
room.”

       The
private dining room was elegant and cozy; the table was positioned in the
corner, with plush banquettes on two sides.  There was a side table for serving
adorned with beautiful cut flowers.   A small waterfall tinkled away on the
opposite wall.   Daniel sat Nina on one banquette and slid in on the other.  A
waiter silently appeared, simply awaiting Daniel’s instructions. 

       Daniel
felt attracted to Nina’s extravagant mane of hair.  He pushed the hair back
away from her face, marveling at its softness as he did.  “Take a deep breath,
it’s okay.  Clearly I failed to instruct you in “Lifestyles of the Rich and
Famous 101.  I’m sorry for that.”  He smiled, a little sadly Nina thought, as
she whispered, “It’s okay, it just…caught me by surprise.”  

       “Let’s
have a drink while we figure out dinner.  What’s your poison?”

       Normally
Nina would have had a glass of red wine, or maybe a beer, but she realized her
hands were shaking.  “Irish whiskey, make it a double, neat.” 

       Daniel
looked at the waiter, “You heard the lady—Midleton single pot still, make it
two doubles.”   The waiter evaporated.

       “Daniel…” 

       Daniel
interrupted her.  “Business can wait a minute.  You just had a near death
experience.”  He smiled.

       Nina
found that she was relaxing, “Well, it wasn’t quite that bad.”  She laughed a
little.

       The two
drinks appeared on the table.  Daniel took a sip, and then pushed his glass
away.  “Drink up Nina, I just had a really good idea.”

Chapter Ten

       Driving
up the coast with the salty wind in her hair felt like just the thing she
needed.  She had to admit that Daniel handled the Porsche much better than she
did, and he lost the remainder of the paparazzi with a couple of tricky turns
and then a burst of sheer speed once out on the interstate.  Most of the
photographers had followed his McLaren, which his bodyguard had driven in the
opposite direction as a decoy before they even left the restaurant.  Now they were
off the highway and cruising leisurely down winding, coastal, side roads somewhere
in the vicinity of Gloucester, but Daniel wouldn’t tell her exactly where they
were going.  The ocean seemed unusually calm, and a half moon and stars winked at
them from above.

       Glancing
over to Nina, Daniel took a moment to assess her transformation.  He’d always thought
she was cute enough, but damn, she looked
hot. 
Still, there was a
wonderful unpretentiousness to her that he was learning to appreciate.  Her
hand dangled outside the car, catching the wind as she waved it about.  She had
recovered from her little experience outside the restaurant, the whiskey no doubt
helping, but they hadn’t said a lot.  Daniel realized that there was something
to be said for a companionable silence.

       They
threaded out onto a little peninsula, and Nina could hear the water slapping at
the shore.  Wooden clapboard houses with interesting tilts and signs attesting
to their age—1779, 1801, 1794—were jammed together like matches in a box.  At
the very end of the spit of land, she could see a dock with several fishing
boats, and a lobster shack.  Daniel rolled up to the little seafood shanty and
cut the engine.  He lifted his eyebrows at Nina, “Fresh lobster without a side
of paparazzi?”  Nina smiled back.

       The
tables on the tiny restaurant’s deck were old wood, polished from decades of
people’s elbows, the seating just plain picnic style benches.  It was close to
closing time, so only a few customers lingered, sipping at draft beers and
picking through their shells for the last tender morsels of crustacean. 

       A weathered,
middle-aged waitress with a broad Massachusetts accent approached the table. 
She wore a polo shirt with a cartoon lobster logo embroidered over the pocket,
faded jeans, and a small canvas apron.  “Wicked nice out here tonight…what can
I get you kids?”

       Daniel
hadn’t bothered to open a menu, “A small pitcher of whatever you have on draft,
two lobsters, fries…some malt vinegar, and a side of fried clam strips.”

       The
waitress nodded as she jotted.  “Be about fifteen minutes.  You want the clams
first?”

       Feeling
like she was back in her own element, Nina answered, “Yeah, clams first,
thanks.”

       The
waitress made a note.  “Tartar sauce or ketchup?”

       This time
Daniel answered, “Both.”

       “Okay
dolls, I’ll have your beer in just a minute.”

       Daniel
studied how at home Nina seemed to feel.  “Your kind of place?”  He took off
his suit coat, unbuttoned his shirtsleeve cuffs and rolled them back.

       Nina
looked at him happily.  “What’s not to like about beer and cholesterol?”

       Loosening
his tie, Daniel’s eyes swept over Nina, taking in how delightfully her breasts
filled out the silk of her blouse.  A button had come undone in the wind during
the drive, and he could just catch a teeny glimpse of cleavage and a lacy bra. 
He bit his lip, pushing back the desire to see more.

       The
waitress smacked the pitcher down on the table with two frosted mugs, “Here ya
go kids.  Enjoy.  Clams will be up any minute.”

       Nina
liked seeing Daniel loosening up.  It was as if she’d stepped up to his world
with her new car and clothes, and now he was stepping down to her world of
cheap beer and small pleasures.  It made her feel like getting through the next
few months might not be so horrible if they could keep accommodating each
other.

       “I love
this place.”  Daniel poured the beer as he talked.  “I can come and stare at
the water and just feel like a normal guy.”

       “Normal
guys don’t wear bespoke suits.”

       “I
generally change first, but we had to make our getaway, so there was no time
for that.”  He winked and they clinked mugs.   “I’m really sorry you had to go
through all that.  It never occurred to me that the hint of a new woman in my
life would put the tabloids into fits.  It’s only going to get worse from
here.”  He took a sip of beer, “But I hope you at least had a little fun
shopping today?  By the way, you look great.  It’s perfect for the part.”

       “Yeah, it
was fun, and umm, I kind of hired a part-time stylist today.”

        “Awesome,
that’s nickel and dime stuff…it was on my list.” 

       Daniel
licked a little beer foam from his lips and Nina thought he looked amazingly
sexy.  She tried to refocus on business.  “I saw Elsa today.”  Suddenly Nina
was interrupted by a little paper boat of sizzling hot fried clam strips
hitting the table between them.

       “Tartar,
ketchup, lemon juice…” a mound of little plastic packets appeared next to the
clams,  “You kids need anything else right now?”

       “We’re
good.”   Then Daniel added, “Let’s wait a little bit before you put in the
lobsters.”

       “Just
tell me when you’re ready, no problem.”  As the waitress started to clear a
nearby table, he added, “I know it’s near closing time, but I will definitely
make it worth your while to stay late tonight, tell the kitchen I’ve got them
covered too.”

       “Sure
thing doll.” She gave him a little quirk of a smile.  “You seem trustworthy.”

       Nina
struggled to open one of the packets of tartar sauce gracefully, but the end of
it refused to open.  Daniel rolled his eyes and gave her a look of mock disbelief,
“Don’t you know how to open one of those?”  He grabbed it out of her hand, and
tore the end of it with his teeth, squirting the sauce into one end of the
container with the clams.  He dipped a clam in and popped it into his mouth. 
“Delicious.”  He dipped another clam strip into the tartar sauce and waved it
in front of Nina, “Open up, your turn.”  Nina dutifully opened her mouth. 
Daniel shook his head, “Wider!  I need a better target.”  She opened wider, and
a clam came sailing in.  They both started laughing as she chewed and
swallowed.

       “I’m not
the guy the tabloids make me out to be Nina.  I know I’ve done some dumb stuff,
but if you want, we can have some fun while we’re closing this deal, and then
you can get back to the life you want.” 

       Somehow
the last part of Daniel’s statement made Nina feel disappointed.  What life
did
she want?  Working for the DeVere Foundation?  Taking care of her dysfunctional
family?  Playing house with a billionaire playboy? 

       Daniel
continued, “But there are some serious stakes on the table, and we’ve got to
take that part
very
seriously.  First thing tomorrow, Elsa is going to
give you a crash course in how to survive in high society.  And you’re getting
a bodyguard, ASAP.  Friday night you are meeting my parents as my girlfriend,
and three weeks after that, there will be a party to announce our engagement.  Somewhere
in between we will have to go someplace that seems like somewhere a billionaire
would propose.  Paris is too cliché.  I don’t know; think about it.  Pick
someplace you’ve always wanted to go.  And then as soon as the engagement hits
the papers, we’re on the plane to Panama for part one of the negotiations.  You’re
going to be able to handle all of this, right?”

       Nina
looked down, her balloon deflated.  She kicked herself; nothing had really
changed; she was merely an employee, just a cog in the DeVere wheel.  A cog
that would get some new clothes, a few interesting trips, the chance to drive a
Carrera GT.  Then it would be back to pushing paper and trying to keep her
family from careening out of control.  She answered meekly, “Yes, of course,
Mr. DeVere.”