Closer (3 page)

“That sounds like a stolen quote from
Architectural Digest
.”

“
Urban Art Gazette
,” she clarified.

“Yes,” he said with a faint smile.  “Chicagoans don’t like it when you change their city. Especially as a foreigner. Nor do they like it when you change their city’s history. The Spire is thirty stories taller than the Willis Tower, which makes it the tallest building in the country.”

“Chicagoans also don’t like it when you refer to the tallest building in their city as anything other than the Sears Tower,” she snapped with hometown pride.

“It’s not the tallest building anymore,” he corrected her.

Inez pursed her lips.  Clearly, he was the kind of man used to living an ambitious life of achievements and having the upper hand whenever possible. 

“So you’re offering to pay five thousand dollars a day for the honor of being your fake girlfriend, just so nobody finds out you’re going blind.  That’s the deal, right?”

“Yes.  I will hire you officially as my office assistant through your temporary agency, but everything else is between you and me.  I will pay cash at the end of each work day and our agreement remains one hundred percent confidential.”

“That sounds almost criminal.”

“Which is why I haven’t confirmed that you have the job.”

“Oh, yes you have,” Inez laughed, reveling in the fact that she was now the one with the upper hand. “Because I can guarantee you that I’m your best and only option.”

He fell silent, as if he had no interest in affirming what they both knew was true. “You’ll have to make yourself available to me every day this week, including Saturday night—the opening night of The Spire.”

“Only until midnight,” she pushed back.  “Then I’m off the clock.”

“Does your carriage turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?”

She ignored his condescension. “I’ve got places to be in the morning and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Then you’ll have to be available every day by noon.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Deal.”

He nodded.  She nodded.  It was the first thing they had agreed on and it felt like an unexpected peace treaty. 

“So…should I just show up here tomorrow?”

“No, I prefer you to start immediately.”

Inez floundered.  She wasn’t expecting “immediately,” but she sure as hell wasn’t going to turn down her first chance to make five thousand dollars.

“Stand up,” he directed her, as if he knew he was making the decision to alter their fates. 

Inez obeyed, absorbing the surreal absurdity of possibly earning twenty thousand dollars in one week. Slowly, he circled around from behind the broad desk and approached her. 

“Don’t move,” he said in an even tone, edging his intimidating build into her personal space.

It was her first test. 
Twenty thousand dollars, twenty thousand dollars, twenty thousand dollars…
she chanted it over and over in her mind. 
Take a deep breath.  It’s only four days. Suck it up and do what he says…

Cautiously, he held out his fingertips to her chin and angled her face towards his good eye like an appraiser examining a fine painting. 
It was the only way he could see her
, she told herself,
from this close of range
.  Inez parted her mouth to speak, overwhelmed by her need to diffuse the awkward silence until he spoke first.

“You’re Caribbean.”

She stared at him.  Almost everyone assumed she was Mexican.

“Yes, my father was from Cuba.”

“Was?”

“Yes.  He’s dead now.”

“And your mother?”

“Irish.  But dead, too.”

Sven shifted his unpatched green eye onto her.  It arrested her with its clarity.  There was zero hint that it was failing him except for the way it lingered on her, longer than normal.

“Come closer,” he commanded. 

She didn’t want to obey him, but the authoritative magnetism in his voice edged her forward.  The seam of his suit coat grazed against the curve of her breasts.  He was even more attractive than she thought. 
Absurdly attractive
.  Strong jawline, Alpine nose, chiseled cheeks and dimpled chin.  And that barely-there European accent—a lilt of aristocracy beneath his smooth pronunciation—charmed her into submission. 

His fingers tilted her chin, coaxing her to straighten her posture while he gauged her true height.  He was tall, so much taller than she had expected.  The oversized mahogany desk had made him seem average in size, but now, his domineering build overpowered her.  His unpatched eye traced an invisible line across her neckline down to her waist.  Inez tried hard not to indulge in the scent of his cologne, but it was one of her favorite blends—musk with a hint of cedar. 

“Five foot, five inches tall.  Size eight.”

“Six,” she whispered, flustered by the tender pressure of his fingertips on her chin and his ability to tame her.

“Eight,” he reiterated. 

Damn, he was good.

His lingering green gaze shifted onto her mouth. Inez suddenly remembered her lipstick shade—“Roxanne Red.”  For a moment, she feared, then anticipated the sensation of his lips against her own.

“Average,” he finally said, dropping his hand from her chin and moving back around his desk.

The weight of a frown sagged the corners of her mouth.  Then, a flare of aggressive anger inside her chest replaced the ridiculous way he suddenly made her feel inadequate. 
Twenty thousand dollars…twenty thousand dollars…asshole
.

“Gather up your things,” he snapped at her. “We’ll need to get you dressed.”

Chapter Two

Inez stood on the pedestal and gazed at herself in the three-way, full-length mirror.  The seamstress tugged down her measuring tape from around her neck and curled it around Inez’s bustline, hips, and backside.  Inez noted the seamstress’ black backless top, revealing the massive dragon tattoo snaking down her neck and across her shoulder blades.

“I expect that you’ll be able to do something with her, Ebony,” Sven said to the seamstress. “She’s smaller than I would have liked.”

Inez glared at Billions in the mirror.  With legs crossed at the knee, he leisurely reclined on the black leather reception sofa positioned along the windows of the clothing boutique.  He occasionally tapped his silver-tipped cane against the white tiled floors. 
Click, click, click
…like the impatient tick of a pendulum clock.

“Just pretend I’m one of your other dolls that you keep stashed away in your secret fetish cupboard, and I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

The seamstress snorted past her nose ring.

“Small,” Sven insisted again. “But her attitude clearly makes up for it.”

“I’m in the room, you know,” Inez shot back at him.

The seamstress smirked and slipped the measuring tape around the girth of Inez’s cleavage again, checking her measurements. “Hips—36 inches.  Waist—30 inches.  Bust—43 which translates into about a 38DD.  Hardly small, Sven.  Much more like the perfect figure to me.” She winked at Inez in her defense.  “You’re almost completely blind, Sven.  I doubt you’re the best judge of these things, anyway.”

Surprised, Inez shifted her attention to the seamstress. “So you know, too?”

But Sven answered for her. “Bee and I have known each other a long time.  She’s my own personal tailor and the only other person who knows that I can’t see as well as I should.  I trust her implicitly.”

“Why don’t you make her your girlfriend then?” Inez challenged him in the mirror.

Ebony snorted again and measured the vertical lines of the back of Inez’s thighs.  “Because I already have one.” 

Sven silenced his cane and flashed her a smile.  He waved his foot like an anxious dog.  Ebony’s cheeks flushed pink, a sign that she wasn’t as tough and edgy as her dragon tattoo suggested.  “Trust me though,” she mumbled under his breath.  “He’s tried plenty of times.  Sven always tries.”

“Most men will,” Sven asserted, reminding both women that his hearing was impeccable. 

Ebony flipped her long braided pony tail over her lithe shoulder and exhaled a
boys-will-be-boys
sigh.  Amused, Sven lifted his sharp chin, as if he was still calculating how to get his lesbian seamstress into his bed—someday.

Inez rolled her eyes. 
How the hell did she get herself into these messes?

“She will need a full wardrobe as soon as possible,” Sven directed Ebony. “Spend at least a hundred thousand, but if you need more, we can discuss it.  And make sure you include Parisian fashions as well,” he added.  “She needs to be…presentable if anyone is going to believe we’ve been dating more than twenty-four hours.”

Inez felt like she
should
have been insulted, except she was too busy trying to keep her mouth from dropping open. 
A hundred thousand dollars? On clothes?
She barely could bring herself to spend forty dollars on new underwear at Target.

Absorbing the challenge, Ebony crossed her arms and pressed the point of her black high-heeled boot on the edge of the podium.  “And what about for tonight?”

“An evening dress,” Sven confirmed.  “We have a cocktail engagement tonight.”

“Tonight?” Inez repeated, as if she was a child being ignored by her parents.

“Yes, you’re coming out of my cupboard,” he mused, twirling his cane.  “You sound worried.”  He said it to taunt her.  She could hear the tease in the softened lilt of his accent.

Inez scowled at the triple reflections of him in the mirror.  Did she really agree to pretend to be the girlfriend of some arrogant bastard wearing a designer suit and a black pirate patch?
  Actually, yes…yes, she did
.

“Well, let’s see…what could I find for you to wear by tonight?” Ebony’s thoughts trailed off as she assessed Inez’s face and figure.  “You know, I think we should try to do something to match your eyes,” she finally proposed, gazing at Inez with keen interest, as if she was an art student admiring a statue in a museum. “They’ve got this fiery red highlight in them, hard and glossy like cherrywood.”

“Sven said I was average,” Inez replied.

Ebony sighed.  “Sven doesn’t always appreciate unconventional beauty.”

“It’s true.” Sven nodded, adjusting his cufflinks.  “My style is more classic.”

“Which generally means blonde and boring.” Ebony tossed back.

He smirked and wagged his foot again.  He definitely enjoyed the negative attention.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Ebony whispered to Inez. “His last girlfriend wasn’t blonde, and she certainly was far from boring.  And I’m fairly certain she broke his heart.”

Sven’s face hardened with severity.  He stopped twirling his cane and slowly rose from the sofa.

“Let’s focus more on her wardrobe, please,” Sven warned her.  It was obvious she had struck a nerve and he wanted her to know not to repeat the offense.

Inez watched him through the mirror
. 
It was hard to imagine Billions with a shred of a sentimental heart, much less imagine the woman capable of breaking it.

Ebony fell silent, but a glint of rebellion remained in her dark eyes.  She gazed at Inez and hid her smile.  “Very well, Sven…here’s my opinion about tonight’s wardrobe.  You don’t normally let me dress your dates in striking color, but with Inez’s coloring—her hair, skin and those eyes—it would be a sin to make her wear black.”

“Let’s not go overboard, Bee,” Sven cautioned her.

“Do you want to make a statement or not?” she pushed back.

“Always.”

“Then, I’m thinking…scarlet.”

“You mean, red,” he corrected her.

“No, I mean scarlet,” she asserted. “Dark red with a hint of magenta.  C’mon, Sven.  You’re an architect.  Close your eyes and imagine scarlet.”

“I design buildings, Bee.  Not pick out the curtains.”

“
Tsk
,” Ebony clucked, ensuring that he would hear her displeasure even if he couldn’t see her expression of annoyance.

“Bee,” he said sternly. “I want to make a statement, but I don’t need people thinking that I picked her up in the red light district.”

“Well, you
are
Dutch,” Inez added with a zing. 

Ebony released a laugh.  Sven cocked his jaw and pushed towards them with a
tap, tap, tap
of his cane until its tip struck the base of the pedestal with a firm whack.  He edged himself into Inez’s space.

“No,” he said, lowering his voice, controlled and steady.  “You are not my whore. I can find plenty of whores.  I expect you to present yourself as nothing less than my loyal and attentive girlfriend.  Are we in agreement?”

Inez endured his proximity.  His tall form and freshly shaved face met her eye-to-eye and she noted the trace of a menacing scar, peeking out beneath the rigid eyepatch. 

Holy hell.  Giving him a blow job would be easier than this…
“Whatever you say,” she replied. “Pookey.”

“Don’t worry, Sven,” Ebony interjected.  “She’s going to look stunning.  I promise.”  She guided Inez off the pedestal and away from Sven, breaking the tension between them. 

“Thank you,” Inez mouthed to her.

“You’re welcome,” Ebony mouthed back to her before turning her attention to Sven.  “Now stop being such an intimidating bulldog and get up here.  It’s your turn now to be put on display like a little doll.”

Sven resisted. “I already have more suits than I care to wear.”

Ebony slipped behind him and ushered him towards the pedestal.

“Trust me.  You don’t have a suit that can compete with a chic scarlet cocktail dress.”

Escaping with relief, Inez flopped down onto the leather sofa.  It was her first moment of relaxation since arriving for the interview two hours ago.  The future of her life had just been changed for the next four days and she barely had been granted a chance to even process it. 

She watched Ebony take Sven’s hand into her own as if she was preparing to remove a splinter from the paw of a roaring lion.  He exhaled at her touch and allowed her to guide him by the hand up onto the pedestal.  It was hard not to admire how Ebony handled Billions with confidence and grace.  She removed his suit jacket and carefully hung it on the nickel-plated wall hook.  He adjusted his diamond cufflinks while she rolled a lint brush along the seams of his tan pants. His broad shoulders accentuated his athletic build and tapered waist beneath his pin-striped white business shirt, tucked neatly into his slacks.  With his rigid demeanor and threatening eyepatch, he had attempted to
intimidate her like a ruthless bulldog.  But now, his European mannerisms and Dutch facial features softened his appearance like a runaway model. 

“I think we will need to do something more contemporary,” Ebony offered.

He eyed her with skepticism.  “
That
sounds intimidating.”

She smiled and measured his neckline. “I have something special in mind in the back.  Imported today from Luxembourg.  It’s going to make you feel like the admiral of a war ship.”

“Luxembourg is a land-locked country.  They have no business designing naval-inspired fashion.”

“Which is why you’re the perfect man to pull it off, Sven.  Trust me.”

He fell silent, as if he was absorbing the sensuality of her husky voice and the scent of incense on the surface of her mocha skin. “Implicitly,” he whispered.

Inez was certain he would be more than willing to kiss her if she would let him. “
Ack, hmmm
,” she cleared her throat, intentionally obnoxious. “So I need to get home—at least for a half an hour to pick up some of my personal things.”

Sven barely acknowledged her presence.  He didn’t appreciate the interruption.

“Ebony will arrange for all of your clothes tonight, including your undergarments.”

“My undergarments?” Inez mocked him, openly.  She couldn’t help it.

“Bra and panties,” Ebony clarified. “You’ll need the perfect match for the cocktail dress.”

“She’ll need heels as well,” Sven cut in.

“No heels,” Inez shot back.  “And really, I need to go home to pick up a few… you know, personal items.”

Sven finally shifted his full attention to her.  “There’s no reason for you to leave.  Our agreement was for you to start immediately, and so you’re committed to me until midnight.  In the meantime, I’ll pay for any of your expenses today if you need to purchase something specific.”

“No, really,” Inez insisted.  “I need to go home for just a brief—”

But Sven would not relent. “Ebony will send your entire wardrobe to my penthouse this afternoon and you will dress there.”

Inez held her ground.  “Tampons, Sven.  And yes, a shower…but in my own home.”

It was juvenile charade and a total lie.  But it was also none-of-his-freaking business why she needed to go home and she wasn’t prepared to be his submissive prison bitch—yet.

Sven fixed his gaze on her, as if he heard the tremor in her breath, but chose not to challenge it.  “Then my driver will take you home.  That will be the fastest way.  I expect you back at my penthouse within the hour.”

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and called in the request to his driver.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll be there—ready to wear all the necessary undergarments.”

She let the sarcasm seep out of her voice while withholding her smile.  He glared at her and she straightened her posture.  Sure, it would have been a lot easier to follow Ebony’s lead and pretend to be a deferential employee.  But being a cocky sly confrontational smartass was
way
more her skill set. 

“Good,” he confirmed.  “Because plain little dolls usually need flashy accessories to make them look more impressive than they actually are.  Heels, especially.”  He said it with a click of his back teeth, reminding her who ultimately had the upper hand.

But Inez didn’t need the reminder.  She needed money—a lot of it—and he was the only prospect she had for getting it.  She stared at him, mulling over the disparity between his smooth alluring complexion and his intimidating black eyepatch, and bit her tongue with subservient silence. 
Jackass
.