The Billionaire's Allure (2 page)

I let him escort me up the remaining flights until we reached my floor. “This is me,” I said.

“Alright. Have a good day, Miss Wilson.” He smiled, and exuded an aura that made his earlier intensity seem like a shadow of an emotion. I felt more alive than I ever had before.

I was halfway to my cubicle when I realized that I still didn’t know his name.

***

All morning I wondered whether I’d get called into my boss’s office. Surely there were cameras in that stairwell. Surely someone had seen what I’d done. I felt wracked with guilt. I couldn’t afford to lose this job. Rent in DC was high enough that I couldn’t stay more than a month or two without a job, and I knew there weren’t any other firms hiring candidates with my experience, not at the pay I needed. When I interviewed for my job as a paralegal, I had had to go up against actual lawyers, ones that had passed the bar.

It wasn’t just the money, either. If I wanted to get into Georgetown, I needed to fill out my resume. An undergrad from a state school, even with a high GPA, wasn’t enough, not for Georgetown. A year in Adamson Aerospace’s legal department would be perfect.

God, why did I
do
that?
I chewed my lip with frustration and stared blankly past my computer screen.

“Kate, do you have a few minutes?” Mrs. Smedley asked.

I glanced up, surprised to see my boss standing beside me. I’d been jumping at shadows, but I hadn’t even noticed her.

“I’m sorry if you’re in the middle of something, but it’s very important,” she said.

“No, no. I’m good.” I locked my computer—leaving documents open for passersby to see, even if they were employees of the company, was one of the cardinal sins at a defense contractor—and rose. Panic clawed at my throat.
She knows
, I thought, horrified.

Mrs. Smedley led me to her office. It was narrow, with a pair of upholstered chairs sitting before a spotless desk. She sat behind the desk and gestured for me to sit in one of the chairs.

“Kate, you’ve done good work for us. I want you to know that.”

Great, security finally saw what happened. I won’t even be able to get a reference.
I wanted to cry.

Mrs. Smedley took a piece of paper from her top drawer and pushed it toward me. “Unfortunately, we’re downsizing the legal team, and your position is one that’s being cut.”

I sat there, speechless. At least they weren’t firing me. Maybe that meant they
hadn’t
seen the video. A girl could hope. It would be nice to leave with a shred of dignity intact.

The enormity of joblessness hit me a moment later. I was so screwed.

“I’m sorry, Kate. I really am. I had to cut all five people on your team. If you ever need a reference, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

I nodded, afraid to speak. “Thank you,” I said at last.

Mrs. Smedley tapped the paper on her desk. “This sheet details how to continue your health insurance coverage, as well as how you’ll be paid out for accrued vacation.” She rose and waited for me to pick up the paper before escorting me to her office door. “I won’t subject you to the indignity of having security box up your personal belongings, but your network access has been suspended. Please turn in your badge with security on your way out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I trudged back to my desk, devastated. In a state of shock, I gathered my few things and loaded them into a box.

Halfway to the bathroom, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I rushed in and set the box on the counter and bawled my eyes out. It took ten minutes to get over it and pull myself back together. It took another ten minutes to clean up so I’d look halfway presentable as I walked out of the building, but even then my makeup still had the telltale streaks of crying.

I didn’t feel like being in the elevator with people. Not on my last day. Not when I was leaving like this. I hefted my box and went to my stairwell.
Please don’t let him be in there.

He wasn’t. I made it all the way to the ground floor, and then I saw him. He stood with three other men, all older than him. I averted my eyes and tried to slip past, but he saw me, anyway.

“Wait,” he said, to the other men. He marched over and caught up to me. “Hey.”

Why is it the man of your dreams always has to catch you on the worst day of your life? “Yes?”

“Where are you going?” he asked, even though anyone could see what was going on.

“I just got downsized.” I hefted my box. “I guess I won’t see you in the stairwell again.”

His expression clouded over. “I will make arrangements.”

He must have seen the confusion on my face. Although his mouth gave no hint of emotion, his sexy eyes smiled back at me with intensity.
Who is this guy?
Somehow my mouth was able to form the word, “Thanks,” even though I didn’t believe him.

“Have a safe afternoon.” As quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone, back with the other businessmen.

“Are you another of the casualties, Ms. Wilson?” Sam asked, as I approached the security desk.

“Unfortunately.” I passed him my badge.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, miss. You were always one of my favorites. Not too many pretty girls have a head on their shoulders like you do.”

“Thanks, Sam. Take care.”
What does he know about having a head on my shoulders?
I headed out the front doors. My day was suddenly clear, but I had absolutely no idea what to do with it. I marched toward the train, home and a bottle of wine.

***

Steam billowed up where the running water splashed into the tub. It wasn’t the two foot deep, jetted tub-of-amazing that I wished I could have, but hot water and some bubbles were enough to take the edge off the day. The wine didn’t hurt, either. I leaned back and let the heat soak some of the tension from my shoulders. If I slid down far enough, the water came up to my chin and I could blow channels in the bubbles. I sent a stream floating through the steam and giggled.

I turned off the water with my foot. The only sounds were the soft pop of the bubbles and the gentle piano mixing with Miles’s saxophone.
Who needs jobs?

I did, of course.

The phone rang in my living room. I rolled my eyes. Whoever it was, they could wait. My ring tone ran its course, but a few seconds later it started up again. “Damn it, I’m trying to relax.” I pushed myself up out of the tub and stomped across my apartment, bubbles trailing behind me.

I picked up the phone and stared at it, confused.
Who would have an unlisted number?
“This is Kate,” I said, into the phone.

“Good evening.” It was him! I’d know that sexy accent anywhere. “We have reservations at Citronelle at eight.”

Citronelle? Reservations?
“What?”

“Dinner reservations. I’ll pick you up.”

“But how do you know my number?”

“See you at seven, Kate. Dress appropriately.”

The phone went dead. I stared at it, dumbfounded.
Dress appropriately? How did we go from fooling around in the stairwell to reservations at the nicest restaurant in town?
I flicked a clump of bubbles off my elbow and turned a circle in the middle of the living room. Then the most important question hit me:
What am I going to wear?

I raced to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. I had an hour to get ready before I left with a man whose name I didn’t even know.

Time screamed past and I was just zipping my nicest dress when the phone rang. The number was unlisted again, so I assumed it was my stranger.

“Hello,” I said, as I answered it.

“I’m outside your building.”

“I don’t even know your name. I don’t know how comfortable I am with this. And how do you know my number? I didn’t give it to you.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking how I know where you live?” He laughed. “My name is Adamson, Aaron Adamson. Until around noon today, you worked for me.”

My hand covered the O of my mouth. “Holy crap,” I mouthed. “I see,” I said, aloud.

“Hurry along. I’m in the limo.” The phone shut off.

I steadied myself on the side of my sofa, trying to get my bearings. I knew he had to be powerful. The company didn’t let just anyone go eat on the executives’ balcony, but the CEO?

Should I even go?
That was the real question. I didn’t know what a man like Aaron Adamson wanted with a girl like me. Well, if I was honest with myself, I was afraid I knew all too well what he wanted. The thought of it made my stomach tighten. The devil on my shoulder spoke up:
If his hands were that talented, what about the rest of him?

I stuffed my phone into my nicest clutch and started for the door. Halfway there I stopped, and went to my bedroom instead. I grabbed a tube of lipstick and added it to the purse, just in case.

***

“Thank you for joining me this evening,” Mr. Adamson said, as he opened the door to the limo.

“It was quite a surprise,” I said. I glanced around the inside of the limo as I entered. The smoke colored windows didn’t let much light through from the outside, but the recessed interior lights revealed pale gray leather seats. I made myself comfortable as Adamson sat back at some sort of command center. He had a monitor on one hand and a wet bar at the other.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself before. I assumed you knew who I was.”

I shook my head. “You’re not that famous.”
Oh, crap. I just insulted him.

He smiled. “Perhaps not, though after working for the company for six months, you can see why I would make such an assumption.”

I nodded. God, I should have known who he was. It wasn’t like he was just some vice-president. “So how did you know where I live?”

“I looked it up on the company HR software.”

“The HR software that decided to let me go?”

“Sadly, that wasn’t a software decision. We chose to reorganize the legal department about a month ago.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure if I felt better or worse knowing that an actual person decided I wasn’t worth keeping at the company. “So why did you invite me to dinner?”

Mr. Adamson toyed with a pen as he watched me. “Do you mean ‘why did I invite you to dinner after laying you off?’ or ‘why did I invite a beautiful woman to dinner?’”

“Both, I guess.”

“I didn’t know who you were until you told me your name this morning. As for the beautiful part, it’s true. I’ve seen you watching me for the last few months. The way you tried to be so coy made me think you were hiding something. When you weren’t…” He shrugged. “Kate, you tantalize me in a way I can’t even describe.” He reached into a cabinet beneath the bar and withdrew a pair of wine glasses.

I pursed my lips, speechless. Me? I tantalized him? He could have just about any supermodel in the world and he wanted me? “Thank you.”

“Do you care for a drink?”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about adding another glass of wine to what I’d already consumed that afternoon, but I was less sure how to politely turn him down. Plus I had a suspicion that his wine was going to be much higher quality than mine. I decided that a sip couldn’t hurt.

“Sure.”

He poured me a glass of deep crimson liquid and passed it over, then poured a second for himself. “It’s a Rioja.”

I sipped it and was immediately impressed by the smoothness and faint taste of cherries.

“Do you care for it?” he asked.

“It’s excellent.” It was easily better than anything I had ever tried.

“I just purchased the vineyard a few months ago.” He re-corked the bottle and set it in a guilded cage on the bar.

“I know you’ve been with the company for six months. Well, I suppose that you
were
with the company. And your transcript was very impressive. What did you hope to do before we let you go?”

“I was planning on law school. I’ve applied to Georgetown for next year.”

“I see. Just using us as a stepping stone then?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the limo stopped and the window behind Mr. Adamson’s head lowered. “Mr. A, we’re here,” said a gruff voice.

“Thank you, Thomas.” The window slid back into place. A moment later the door opened, and a white gloved bellman looked inside.

“Good evening, Mr. Adamson,” the bellman said. Another man stood behind him, this one with silver hair and a tuxedo.

Adamson climbed out, then leaned back into the car, holding forth a hand. I let him help me out of the car. Flashbulbs snapped as soon as I was on the sidewalk. The building itself was just red brick, but the throng of people crowding the entryway gave it an air of importance that belied the architecture. Photographers zoomed in on both of us.

My heart fluttered. I had seen paparazzi on TV, but I had no idea what it would be like on the other end of their cameras. I was scared shitless. Adamson must have sensed my hesitation because he stepped in between me and the cameras.

“Mr. Adamson, your table waits,” the silver haired man said.

“Thank you, Geordie,” Adamson said. He cocked his elbow, and not knowing what else to do, I slid my arm into the opening.

We followed the older man--I realized he must be the maître d’--past the crowd of people. More flashbulbs went off as we walked.

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” I whispered, to Adamson. “It feels like I’m in Hollywood.”

“Just smile and keep moving,” he said, as we passed through the doors.

Linen covered tables were scattered around the restaurant. Black-suited waiters with white ties moved between them. The maître d’ led us to the back of the restaurant and seated us at a table tucked into a corner.

A waiter was with us and pouring waters even as we sat. The maître d’ stepped aside. “What can I bring you to drink?” the waiter asked.

“A bottle of the ’95 Veuve,” Adamson said.

“Very well.” The waiter slipped away.

“The usual, monsieur?” the maître d’ asked.

“Please,” Adamson said.

“And for the mademoiselle?”

I looked around, unsure what my options were. With Adamson’s order of “the usual,” I didn’t have any frame of reference for what I should get. The menu didn’t even have prices, so I couldn’t just pick something in the middle. Citronelle was so unlike any restaurant I had ever been inside, and the whole date was so unlike any date I’d ever had, I was at an utter loss.