The Billionaire's Desire Page 4

  “Sure, seems fair enough.” He grinned. “Anything else?”

  She loved how wonderfully easy this was. “Nope. It would appear we have a deal, Mr. Jergan.” now it was her turn to grin.

  Jonathan couldn’t help himself. He stepped up to Vanessa, held her face in his hands, and kissed her mouth. “Thank you, thank you.” he gushed.

  “That’s okay.” Vanessa touched her lips, which tingled pleasingly. “I should … go. Those gossip mongers have enough to be going on with.”

  Jonathan put his hands in his pockets and half smiled at her.

  Vanessa stepped out of his personal space, towards the door, but found she didn’t really want to leave. Their kiss, however casual, cleared up any doubt about the attraction she felt to Jonathan. As did the intimate atmosphere of the day.

  “Before you go,” said Jonathan.

  “Yes?”

  He pressed a button on his huge office telephone, “Danielle?”

  “Sir?” Danielle replied.

  “Get James to come here a.s.a.p. Oh, and more coffee.” He rang off and said to me, “He’ll be here in a jiffy. He’s waiting in the downstairs canteen.”

  “Who’s James?”

  “James is my lawyer. We’ll need to get this all signed and sealed now, before you go and change your mind,” he grinned.

  They signed the papers, drank a glass of Champagne to celebrate—even Vanessa—and over the following week, they spent every lunchtime together, eating, chatting and generally pretending to date. They enjoyed their charade and giggled with each other over take-out food.

  In between those happy lunches, Vanessa continued to work, and went about her business as usual. Unaware of just how much Jonathan grew on her.

  Friday morning she stirred her coffee repeatedly at the hot water heater, deliberating how weird it all felt to be dating a billionaire. She couldn’t help acknowledging that she had become involved in a phony relationship for money, but also acknowledged the freedom money would eventually afford her; worth a little weirdness in anyone’s book. On occasion, she found herself wondering whether Jonathan laughed along with her or at her and whether he feigned their mutual pleasure and growing closeness, just to keep her onboard. But why would he? He’s paying me to stick around, to perform a role. He has no need to lie to me, surely.

  “Ahem,” murmured Beth from behind, startling Vanessa enough to spill coffee on her blouse.

  “Ouch.” Pulling the fabric away from her flesh so it didn’t burn so much, she spat, “Shit Beth, be careful.” She would have to meet Jonathan wearing a coffee-stained blouse and burned chest. And it was her good, silk blouse, too. “It’s ruined, and it burns like a bitch.”

  “Whoops,” she smirked, “bad luck.” Vanessa almost tasted the jealously dripping from Beth. She must wonder how in god’s name she had landed a man like Jonathan Jergen, same as her cronies. All of whom glared suspiciously at Vanessa with awkward expressions, whispered behind their hands, and even giggled as they passed her, refusing to share the joke.

  Because I’m the damned joke, though Vanessa.

  Once so invisible to everyone, Vanessa had quickly become a kind of celebrity at work. Vanessa expected they thought she was trying to sleep her way to the top, or land herself a rich husband so she didn’t need to work at all.

  She hated both ideas, but decided they could get on with their assumptions, all steeped in jealousy, and she would get over them. This, like most of the crappy chores in life, would be easier said than done.

  Beth strutted away, snickering. Vanessa grabbed a handful of napkins and tried to mop up the coffee spillage. But it was no good, she would have to get a new blouse. This one was ruined.

  She grabbed her coat and bag and left for town. Beth could moan all she liked. It was her fault.

  The closest shop with anything decent had a sale on too, so she bought three blouses, two pencil skirts, one pair of slightly higher heeled black leather shoes, for work, and a new bra. The one she wore was also coffee stained. Plus, the new bra was a push-up. She changed in their fitting rooms and appreciated the difference of a little uplift. “Thanks Beth,” Vanessa muttered to herself as she smiled, admiring herself. She could afford a few extra nice clothes now, couldn’t she?

  Back at work, she smiled and watched the clock.

  “Hey there, stranger. You have time for your old friend? I miss our chats now you’re all about Jonathan,” said Danielle.

  “Oh stop.” Vanessa started again. Thankful not to be holding coffee this time, she remembered she had not talked to Danielle all week, and felt guilty. “I’m sorry though. You're right, we should go out for dinner and catch up.”

  “Dinner? Is that because all your lunch breaks are reserved for Jonathan now?” She said his name as though they were in the school playground.

  Two can play at the game, thought Vanessa. “Aw, won’t Ray let you out on a school night?”

  “Touché,’” said Danielle, smiling, and knowing she didn’t have a leg to stand on when talking about being loved up. “I’ll concede that one. But if I do come out for dinner, I want real gossip, not the tripe I’m hearing at the water dispenser.”

  “Oh, they’re gossiping, you do surprise me. Not! So what’s the Goss these days? No one wants to talk to the teacher’s pet.”

  “Oh you know that lot, they all follow The Bitch so they don’t get fired, but they’re all essentially jealous as hell that Jonathan noticed you, not them. Even the guys.”

  We giggled.

  “They think it’s all a bit like a fairy tale, and every woman loves a fairy-tale.”

  Vanessa decided to encourage the fairy-tale rumour as opposed to anything sordid like she had suspected, so said, “Well, they’re right there. It is all a little unreal. I mean, I agree, why me?”

  “So they’re right?”

  Vanessa went with understated and smirked, shrugged, looked cute.

  “Go you! And hey, why the hell not you? He’s an arrogant prick with a big … bank balance. Nothing more, unless…”

  “Err, I’ve no idea how big his … bank balance is. Or anything else, for that matter. Nope, we’re doing this right, taking things slowly, but the spark between us is… undeniable.” Vanessa spoke enthusiastically, and loved how Danielle soaked it up with matched excitement, not the jealousy of everyone else. She was just happy for her friend’s good fortune.

  Vanessa hadn’t quite forgiven Danielle for talking to Jonathan about her private business, but if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be in this incredibly fortunate, if weird, position.

  Danielle said, “You’re blushing. It’s good to see you this way. Nothing like romance to bring a little colour to the cheeks. Just be careful, he is your boss too, remember. I’m glad you’re taking chances for love, but don’t want to see you lose your job because of it.”

  “That’s why I’m taking things slowly. We’ve discussed that and he’s happy to get to know me before rushing into anything. He says he wants us both to profit from this relationship…”

  “Weird choice of words: Profit from this relationship?”

  Oh shit! “He means that neither of us lose out. I think. He’s a business man, you know how they are. Anyway, I better get this lot done before lunch. Beth’s on a warpath, especially with me, for some reason.” Vanessa winked at Danielle and hoped she’d wriggled out of her little mistake.

  Danielle appeared confused by what Vanessa had said, “Okay, call me after lunch to arrange dinner. You and I have more gossiping to do.”

  “Yep, will do.” Vanessa mentally kicked herself as Danielle walked off. She must be more careful when discussing the fantasy conversations between her and Jonathan, and the real ones. It was too easy and even fun to get carried away with the fairy-tale.

  She had become good at deceit, lying to everyone for five years will do that for you, but this was a whole different bag of oranges.

  * * *

  Only three weeks ago Jonathan had made his bizarre proposal, now s
he was riding in a limo to buy expensive clothes for their first dinner date out in public. A bubble of excitement and anxiety cramped in her stomach, and she chewed on her tattered fingernails at the ‘big-deal’ of it all.

  What if they recognise a common liar beneath the posh frock? What if I say the wrong things in the wrong way?

  Nerves aside, she loved shopping; especially knowing she did not have to pay. Although if she thought about it, she hadn’t been this position since before she left school.

  I must remember to think of the plus, not just the minus of this situation. Get a grip, Vanessa told herself.

  The driver pulled on to the strip in Waikiki, and into Kalakaua Ave, to drop Vanessa off at the Gucci store. She stepped out of the car after the driver opened her door and suddenly felt sick. Oh crap, she thought. This feels weird. Me in Gucci. How do people shop in these places? Bet they don’t have a discount rail.

  “Is this store okay Miss?” asked the driver.

  She realised she hadn’t even asked the poor guy’s name, and felt like a snob. “Call me Vanessa, please. And what should I call you? Jeeves?” She smiled at him, trying to ignore the huge posh shop behind her.

  “If you like. But my name’s Roger.” he smiled, tipping his head slightly.

  “Roger it is, then.” Not like she had a preference at this level of posh, so she supposed Gucci would do. She peered over her shoulder and through the glass exterior, and noticed a sales associate walking quickly to the door, towards her. “They sell dresses, right?”

  Roger changed his stance from formal to friendly, “Hey now, they’ll take care of you real well, Miss Vanessa. You don’t have to worry about a thing. They love money, see. And with Mr. Jergan’s account open to them, you have plenty of that. You could ask ‘em to lick your feet, bow, whatever,” he laughed, “Hell, they’ll do it. They’re only vipers with the poor, so you just remember you ain’t that, and it’ll be just fine. Might even be fun.”

  He talked sense and flashed the sweetest most encouraging grin, and I actually did feel better. “Thanks Roger. Turns out you’re my rock today.”

  He might have blushed, but the dark tan on his cheeks kept that secret. He tipped his cap and said, “I’ll be right here, waiting to take to anywhere you want to go. Think someone wants you.”

  I turned and came face to face with a woman in her forties, extremely well turned out and preserved. “Ah, Madam. Please come inside. Let us take care of you for Mr. Jergan. So, you’re going to dinner, you’re a size 6-8, 34D, shoe size 8, and what, 5 foot 7 inches, yes?”

  “If you say so.” How’s she know all that? I didn’t even know all of that.

  “Yes, yes. You are in capable hands. I think I have just what you’re looking for, but let us try on the whole new season rack, shall we?” She looked forward to a huge commission check and bared her teeth in mock friendship. Vanessa imagined her as a lioness preparing to feed her cubs, and she was their meal.

  Her name badge said Malia. She ushered her into her lair, passed the great glass exterior into the minimalist interior. Black wood, or glossy coated metal or plastic, contrasted marble floors and honey-coated walls. The comfort of Roger left behind her, Vanessa remembered his wise words: I’m not poor to Malia, because she knows she’ll get paid. So she won’t be a viper to me.

  There were few items of clothing or shoes on display, compared to the usual branch of Forever 21 or even The Gap. Just a few choice pieces offered visual feasts, or perhaps temptations to the feast. However, Vanessa noticed they were all simple, black and formal. She panicked, thinking she had come to the wrong place and how could she get out of this one into another without spending a few thousand dollars, at least.

  “Come through here,” instructed Adel.

  Vanessa followed her to the back of the shop, into the personal service area, where she was presented with the latest season rail, and went on to try all items suggested to her. This was when Vanessa fell in love with the immense difference in quality, fit, and fabric. Suddenly she got why people spent so much money on clothing, although she tried to ignore the price tags.

  An astonishing two coffees and one hour later, Vanessa left with a couple of dresses, some heels, a clutch bag to go with them and a little less pride. As much as a part of her loved being able to buy these expensive things, she still felt a little bit bad that someone else was buying them for her.

  She tried to see the items as a gift, and told herself that Jonathan would not miss a few thousand dollars, but it still felt odd.

  “Before you go Vanessa,” said Malia, when she noticed my split ends and chewed fingernails. “You simply must visit my friend over at Halekulani Hotel. The best place to go in Honolulu for all beauty treatments, by far, by the way.” She clicked her cell phone into action and pressed one button.

  Wow, she has beauty treatments on speed dial?

  “Hey, tell Lucy I’m sending over a lady who must be treated today, now if possible. Well, move those appointments around. What? Ah, good, good. I’m sending her now then. Her name?” She turned around, lowered her voice a little. “Vanessa, but this is on Mr. Jergans account. Yes, you heard right.”

  A little under three hours later, after a shower and sauna, Vanessa’s bob had been re-coloured, trimmed and blow dried, her fingernails were given smooth, squared edges and a French tip Shellac coating, and her face had been sucked, messaged, then made up beautifully.

  Roger dropped her back home with all her bags, and said he would be back to pick her up in a few hours.

  Once home, she slumped onto her sofa and rested her head for a few minutes. It buzzed and rendered her deaf for a second. She wanted to clear her head, go for a run, but knew she would have to redo her hair and makeup, afterward. Screw that! she thought. Absentmindedly she went to chew her fingernails and found that with the Shellac coating, she couldn’t do that either.

  Feeling uncomfortable, controlled, out of her depth, Vanessa reminded herself she was in control of this. It was a business deal, nothing more. A business deal that would give her more control over her life than anything else ever could have.

  “Why can’t I just enjoy all this posh stuff? I mean, I have had a day of pampering on someone else’s dime, and I’m moaning about it. What’s wrong with me?”

  On her way to the toilet, she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her glossy hair and refreshed, perfectly made up face gave her a little boost. “Hey there pretty lady. Smile why don’t you?"

  She sighed, partly out of shame for how she was feeling after getting a day most women her age could only dream of. Please let tonight go well. Let tonight go well.

  * * *

  Roger picked Vanessa up at 8pm and by half past, he dropped her—wobbly kneed—outside the Parc Hotel, saying someone would escort her to Nobu Waikiki, located inside.

  She looked up at the imposingly glossy hotel and said to herself, “Okay, so Japanese is on the cards. Nobu too,” Vanessa recalled telling Jonathan how much she wanted to try Japanese food, so Nobu was a considerate choice on his part. She had read somewhere that it won a Gold Hale Aina Award last year, so she looked forward to an incredible dining experience and tried to calm down. “Awesome.” She smiled, took a deep breath and went to walk inside, but stopped, “Wait, you said I’d be escorted? By who?”

  “Mr. Jergan organized the hotel’s concierge to take you to him. He’s already in there you see, waiting for you.”

  True enough, a tall, beautiful woman in her thirties approached Vanessa and introduced herself as Jasmine. “Hello Miss Stiles. I would like to escort you to Mr. Jergan.” She smiled, flashing perfect white teeth, and smelled the same as the Gucci shop assistant. Vanessa assumed it was the latest trend in fragrance.

  “Thanks Jasmine.” I turned to Roger. “See you later, Roger.”

  Jasmine frowned at me while Roger tipped his cap and shook his head, smirking. “Have a great night, Miss Stiles.”

  What, can’t we be nice to the help?

&
nbsp; Where Roger made Vanessa feel better about everything, Jasmine made her feel crap all the way to the restaurant. Sly sideways glances, the odd comment, it seemed to Vanessa Gucci failed to impress Jasmine, who probably thought it was counterfeit anyway.

  They reached the restaurant. Vanessa inhaled at the spectacle of the décor. Sea urchin-inspired chandeliers hung everywhere; scorched ash tables sat in perfect union with rich hues and soft lighting, creating an intimacy she welcomed. “This place is stunning, huh?” said Vanessa, to no one in particular.

  “Do you have a reservation, Miss?” asked the host at the front of the restaurant.

  Jasmine spoke before Vanessa had chance to reply, “Just take her directly to Mr. Jergan. He’s waiting,” and without so much as a word, she left Vanessa alone.

  “Oh, bye then.”

  “Come this way, Miss… Mr. Jergan awaits.” He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

  He walked her though the restaurant, already quite busy with an assortment of wealthy patrons. A business meeting played out on a table of eight, no doubt on some expense account. A romantic couple fed each other sushi, and another ate fish dishes in silence. Probably an anniversary, she thought. A few groups of socialites in several large clusters drank too much Champagne, and ate too little of the expensive morsels in front of them. Not her kind of people at all, but the food did look and smell incredible.

  Gold and slate coloured silk drapes hung in the corner they approached, and Vanessa tried not to wobble on her too-high heels as Jonathan came into view. The warmth of the lighting washed him in a peach glow, his crisp white open neck shirt contrasted his tanned complexion to perfection, and when he raised his head to greet her, his eyes literally shone.

  Christ, you are mouthwatering, thought Vanesssa.

  * * *

  Jonathan had been working on some figures at the restaurant, having arrived an hour earlier. He expected Vanessa to love the restaurant and the food and looked forward to their first date. She said she wanted to try Japanese, so this was the best place to bring her.