Some Like It Scandalous, page 2
Keep walking. But she didn’t. The quiet words took all the fire out of her sails.
She looked back. He stood, his hands in the pockets, but the neutrality in his expression evaporated. The quiet request accompanied by the all too familiar hopeful smile twisted the dagger in her heart.
“Go to hell, Charlie.” The venom in the words startled her. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them at bay. “I came here to do business, not to be interrogated like some supplicant to your throne. You could have sent someone else, but you made me come here as if I would bend one damn knee to you.”
A knock at the door interrupted any response he might have made. She started forward and a man in a black-on-black suit that screamed security glanced in. “Forgive the interruption, Your Highness. We wanted to make sure everything was all right.” The guard didn’t look at the prince, though, his steely expression rested on her.
“We are having a mild disagreement, Nelson. Thank you, that will be all.” The dismissal satisfied the guard and after one last hard look at her, he closed the door again.
Security had to be standing right outside the door—how else could they have heard her?
Would they keep her from leaving?
“Anna. Five minutes. Please.” His voice wrapped lovingly around her name, a sensuous caress, and she halted, closing her eyes. The third please doused the flames of irritation.
Five minutes.
“Fine.” She turned and set her bag down on the floor again. Glancing at her watch, she fought to remain impassive. The hell she would cry in front of him, no matter how raw and battered her heart. “You have five minutes.”
He stood next to the chair he’d sat in and didn’t try to approach her. Honestly, he didn’t have to. She couldn’t look away. “I have read your résumé and your letters of recommendation. I know why others believe you to be so qualified. But the success of this enterprise is extremely important to my cousin. Thus, it is important to me. You know she was in the foster care system—she benefited from scholarship programs—and she desperately wants to help others like herself.”
Deeper emotion clouded those words—pride and regret. The latter sank a hook into her heart. “She explained. She’s an amazing woman.”
For the first time since she’d walked into the room, the prince smiled—truly smiled—and the warmth in it kindled heat in her belly. “She is. My only regret is the family did not know about her before the last several months. She holds no grudge against us, though I do. She believes you are a fantastic asset—her exact word was ‘perfect.’”
His giving voice to someone else’s compliment shouldn’t have filled her with such an irrational sense of joy, but the swell of it punctured the outrage that fueled her earlier flight. “Mrs. Voldakov and I spent several hours chatting about her hopes for the project. I agree with her sentiment. It’s a worthy cause and it provides a much-needed boost for those who might have to forgo further education because of financial hardship. I am intimately acquainted with the struggles of low-income families and those struggles are only magnified for foster children who lack the basic support structure for success.”
If not for her own scholarships, she would likely be working in the same diner as her mother or the mechanic shop with her father. One of six children, Anna knew her parents’ resources had been stretched to the breaking point. She’d saved her family money and still managed to chase her dreams.
Well, some of them…
“You worked hard for your scholarships. You pushed away personal commitments to achieve the grades you needed…” The prince stepped toward her.
“Thank you.” All the moisture in her mouth dried up. “I had support. This scholarship—the foundation it can become—can provide that support to so many others. I know what it means to need.”
Thankfully, he redirected and stopped at the edge of his desk and put a hand on the wooden edge. “You weren’t recruited for this position. You applied. Why leave the organization you worked for to come to this one?”
The question puzzled her. Directors of large corporations moved around frequently. “It’s an excellent opportunity.”
“It is hours of intensive labor, compliance restrictions, and paperwork. Your previous project, Hart’s House, provided support for abuse victims, educational and relocation opportunities, and you opened over fifty different establishments in major cities across the United States in the last five years—doubling not only their available working capital, but also the number of help hot spots.” The full weight of his gaze rested on her, as though he evaluated her every reaction and she fought against fidgeting.
“You managed a brilliant opportunity—so, why give that up to take on a relatively small scholarship with years of work in front of it?” He held her gaze captive. The masculine intensity of him dominated the room. He’d done his homework—because not all of the information he recited had been in her résumé.
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Why give up one lofty, worthwhile project for another? She’d struggled with the decision for a month after submitting her application. “Hart House doesn’t need me to succeed anymore. We have a fantastic array of directors, city managers and political support. My assistant director handled most of the day-to-day operations and she can and will manage it beautifully. I’m not averse to hard work and this scholarship program—the whole basis of the foundation—needs people who believe in the system of success it can provide. Who know it can be more than just a dream or a fairytale.”
“Of course.” He sounded…disappointed. He released her gaze and looked down at his desk. “You want to it to be real. Real work. Real commitment. Real results.”
“Yes. And if that means twenty-four seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year until we can provide a hundred or more students with the launching pad they need—then that’s what it will be.” Believing in the program was not her issue. Passion for a cause was what she brought to the table, a fervent desire for success added a crucial element to any enterprise. When desire faded or it didn’t need her attention to continue, then it was time to go.
The prince nodded slowly. “Very well…you have the papers with you regarding nonprofit allocations and grant status?”
The shifting gears and the cooler tone unsettled her more. “Yes, but if you are relocating the fund under the Dagmar Foundation, they’ll have to be redrafted.”
“I am aware.” He smiled, but no happiness or pleasure reflected in his eyes. “I will pass those grants to our legal department. They can make the required amendments.”
Anna frowned. “I would prefer to handle that myself. Granted, I’ll need to be up to speed on the foundation, but the best presentations come from a knowledgeable director. I can highlight the benefits and I’m deep in the drafting of our position papers right now.”
He leaned back against the desk, curling his hands against the edge and studying her. “How much do you know about the Dagmar Foundation?”
She swallowed. “Not much, honestly.”
“Intriguing. It is one of the largest benefactors in the United States and the European Union. I believe we’ve provided grants to Hart House on at least three occasions.” His mouth tightened, but his voice remained even—deep, husky and compelling. When he added a true smile to that sexy come-hither voice he could rule the world.
“I wasn’t aware of that.” Liar.
He lifted his eyebrows skeptically.
She sighed and dropped her gaze, looking at the carpet near his shoes. The polished wing tips looked uncomfortable and a far cry from the muddy, stained sneakers he raced around campus in. “All right, yes, I was aware of it. I approved the applications for the grants.”
“Approved, but you did not write them.” Was that another hint of disappointment?
“No. I didn’t. My assistant director believed the Dagmar Foundation’s alcoholic recovery program made for a good match, particularly when we added AA meetings and counselors to our different homes in a bid to combat drug and alcohol abuse in the recovering families. All told, I believe the foundation provided four point six million dollars in grants to help us launch.”
“And you know this without referring to your notes?” He canted his head to the right, studying her with a fresh gleam of interest. She accepted the attention, refusing to look away.
“I can tell you the dates if you like. I remember when the whales are landed because of the help they provide.” Distance. They needed firm boundaries and distance. Charlie’s just the figurehead who signs checks…
“Interesting analogy.” He turned and leaned over to press a button on the desk. “Gretchen, please cancel my appointments for the rest of the week and pencil Miss Novak in.”
“Yes, Your Highness. You have the event on Friday…”
Anna opened her mouth to refuse the non-invitation to spend an entire week with him. One hour killed her. She wouldn’t survive the week. He frowned at the secretary’s response, however, and Anna held her tongue.
“Get me a second ticket. Miss Novak can accompany me.”
“Hey…” She crossed her arms. “I have a full schedule this week—”
“And you can amend it. You need to be brought up to speed on the foundation if you plan to redraft those applications and they’re due in ten days. So, we have a week to get you everything you need.” High-handed and dictatorial manner aside, he wasn’t wrong.
It irked her.
“Fine, then set me up with someone in your legal department. I’ll have a lot of questions and need specific details that only someone who handles the day-to-day affairs can…” She trailed off, because he smiled. Her heart did a little flip-flop in her chest, because the smile stripped away the years and catapulted her back to when he’d asked her out.
After following her from class to the library to her first job and later her second—every single day for a week—he’d worn down her resistance and always asked with that smile. It disrupted her neurons and turned her into a quivering mass of feminine need. She sucked in a deep breath and shoved the memory away.
“I am the best person for the job. I have been in charge of the foundation for ten years and I’ve spent the last five as managing director.” He pushed away from the desk. “You need the best resources and the best opportunities to make the Alyxandretta scholarship fly. I can give it wings. But…it’s your choice.”
He circled the desk. “Unfortunately, we can’t begin today. So, if you’ll see yourself out, I’ll expect you at nine a.m. tomorrow. If you’re not here, I’ll assume the scholarship fund will need a new director. Good day.”
Dismissed, she stood there and floundered for a moment. He flipped open his laptop and didn’t look at her at all. She moistened her lips and picked up her things. She wanted to say something else, but the words tasted like ash on her tongue.
“Your Highness.” It sounded lame to her ears, but it was the best she could manage.
Her hand was on the door handle when he spoke again. “You can call me Charlie, Anna.”
Pain eviscerated her and she closed her eyes, grateful he couldn’t see her face. “No, Your Highness, I can’t. Charlie was a lie, and I would prefer that we keep this professional.”
He sighed, but she pulled the door open and strode down the hallway. Security could close it behind her. The art on the walls wavered through the sheen of tears in her eyes. She held it together all the way to the elevator. Once inside, she spared a look at the camera and locked her expression.
It’s all for the kids. I can do this.
Chapter 2
Armand
Richard circled the billiard’s table, eyeing potential shots. “You’re one crazy son of a bitch, Armand. What did you think she was going to do? See you again and beg you to take her back?”
Armand said nothing; he stared at the green felt table as though it might reveal the answer.
“Armand, seriously?” His best friend looked up from his shot. “You didn’t.”
The problem with Richard lay in how well he knew Armand. “I didn’t plan on groveling on bended knee.” But yes, I thought she would be more…more her…
She’d refused to drink out of the bottle, then ignored the glass he’d poured for her.
The attorney angled his hand against the edge of the table, balancing the cue stick between the thumb and forefinger. He snapped the stick forward and it tapped the cue ball, sending it careening after the blue stripe and sinking it. “You’re an idiot.”
“Helpful.” Armand sighed. His body hummed at the memory of her perfume, sweet and exotic. She’d rarely worn any when they lived together, but her shampoo—it had smelled of citrus and orchids, just like she did today.
“Look, I can do a lot, but the fact you even thought she would be happy to see you based on a summons to appear or lose her funding? Where did your diplomacy go?” Richard circled the table and cleared a second ball from the table.
“It’s been ten years. I thought—hoped—her temper might have cooled.” Ten years to regret leaving him—to regret never calling. When Richard sank a third shot, Armand set the pool cue aside and walked over to the bar. He needed something a lot stronger than water. From the moment she walked into his office, his response swamped his good sense and judgment. He’d wanted to run his fingers through her hair.
She was beautiful—heart-wrenchingly beautiful—but too pale. She’d squinted, as if her head bothered her, and for just the barest of seconds he glimpsed an unsteady step, a waver in her professional façade. He’d caught her arm—he just wanted to help—but she jerked away as if he’d hit her.
Anger had flared in her eyes, a fiery beast if ever there was one. God, but the woman possessed a temper. Why the hell did he arrange to spend the rest of the week with her? She’d clearly wanted to be anywhere except his office. And the last thing I need is to spend it with her. But he’d wanted to know if she’d gotten over them—over him. Clearly, she had. So why hang on to something that never had a chance in the first place?
He poured in three fingers of brandy and tossed the whole thing back. The liquid heat burned through his system, churning his already agitated gut.
“Call Nikole. Get laid. You’ll feel better.”
“The wisdom of the ancients there, my friend.” Armand snorted, ignoring the curl of disgust at the very idea. “Nikole wants a marriage proposal and has informed me that if I wish to enjoy time with her, I must be prepared to put a ring on it.”
Richard laughed.
Turning to stare at his friend, he couldn’t help his own reluctant smile. “Yes, exactly so.” He poured another drink. “Nikole is not the one I want.”
“I know.” The attorney sobered and finally missed a shot. He joined Armand at the bar and poured his own drink. “So, give yourself a few weeks and pick out another model. You like them, they’re easy and you can forget today.”
“I’m spending the rest of the week with Anna.” He waited for Richard’s reaction, and the man didn’t disappoint.
He choked, sputtering on the brandy, and swung his gaze up to stare at him. “Why?”
“She will be administrating Alyx’s scholarship fund and we’re folding it under the Dagmar Foundation. She’ll need to be brought up to speed.” Any of a dozen executives and administrative staff could handle it
“Bullshit.” Few people ever spoke to him like that—none while he grew up—and only two in his adulthood. Of those two, only Richard remained. “Since we’re on the subject, when were you planning to tell me we were adding that program to the Dagmar Foundation?”
“Tonight. I need the paperwork pushed through by morning.” He looked at the amber liquid in the glass and swirled it around. She’d never liked wines or decanted liquors. She preferred beer—in the bottle—the cheaper the better. She liked seven-topping pizzas and sticky caramels mixed in with her popcorn. She’d always tasted of sin and sweetness when they kissed.
Richard snapped his fingers in Armand’s face. “Dude, you have it bad.”
Shaking off the alluring memories, he took another drink. It would be his last for the night. He would require all his wits about him in the morning if—when—she arrived for their session. “You haven’t called me dude in years.”
“You haven’t been this stupid over a woman in years.” The attorney leaned on the bar. “Tell me this—when did you decide to fold in that scholarship?”
Armand didn’t answer. The visceral blow he’d experienced when he saw her name in Alyx’s email lingered. He couldn’t believe it was really her—life and fate were not that cruel. Or so he always believed.
“When, Armand?” Richard repeated the question.
“After I found out Alyx hired her to be in charge of it.” He wasn’t proud of the admission. He’d spent an hour talking Alyx into placing her scholarship fund under the oversight of the Dagmar Foundation and then promised the newlywed he would handle all the details. The further he put Alyx out of Anna’s reach, the more in control he could exert.
“And the goal of this exercise?”
“To provide educational opportunities to underprivileged youth.” He drained the brandy and grabbed his pool cue, avoiding Richard’s knowing gaze and the truth. He could dance around both for some time. He lined up the shot and sank two balls. He completed two more shots before glancing up. “I want her back.”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “Then we need a plan.”
“I’ve got her attention—well, I commandeered her attention.” If she shows up—if she doesn’t just refuse to work with me altogether…
The attorney pulled out his phone. “So that’s step one, what’s the next step?”
Armand stared at the shot he lined up and blinked slowly.
“You have a next step—right?” Richard sighed.
No, he’d barely managed to push through that meeting with her today. Bringing her back tomorrow bought him some time.
“This isn’t you, Armand. You don’t twist in the wind and act all indecisive. What do you want to do next?”
