Authors: Amanda Horton
She uttered a small prayer, then pressed the “send” button.
***
Ace Masterson glared at his grandfather with furious blue eyes. He knew the old man was being an arrogant, stubborn, asshole.
“Are you even aware of what will happen if you die before you can sign control of the company to me?”
“Yes I do.” The old man replied, serenely. “The trustees will take over. Sell everything and donate it to my favorite charity.”
“How can you even think of that option when you know how much I’ve put into Masterson conglomerate?” Ace asked, infuriated.
The old man straightened his back against the wheelchair. Rheumy eyes failed to conceal the authority he welded. His voice was firm when he answered: “I am aware. You enjoy the fruits of your hard work. Consider your homes all over the world, numerous cars in the garage, a private jet and a yacht in the marina. You have all that because you work hard.”
Ace ran a hand through his hair. The old man was right. He had everything except the deed showing he owned the company.
The old man continued, “I can sign everything over to you…but you know what I want.”
Ace sighed in defeat. “I’m not ready to settle down and start a family. Besides, it’s your fault. You disapprove of everyone I introduce to you.”
“Bah! Socialites, starlets, models, actresses?” The old man enumerated with disdain. “A pretty face and a wet pussy are not all that a woman is made of. You should know by now, the dumber they are, the more expensive their taste. Those hussies will go through your pocket and leave you with just the shirt on your back.”
“Oh grandpa, you’re full of shit,” Ace chuckled, then added, “Exactly what is it that
we
are looking for in a girl?” He added emphasis on the ‘we’.
“A girl who can think for herself, and not those airheads you’ve introduced me to. Someone who will love you for who you are and not the number of zeroes in your bank account.”
The veracity
in the old man’s words stung. His former girlfriends had expensive tastes. Vacations in the Maldives, jewelry, couture clothes, and cars - he always picked up the tab.
With the tension between them gone, old man Masterson beckoned his grandson near. “Ace, listen to me. I love you. You are my only heir. With your parents gone, I saw you grow up to become who you are today. A family will only make you stronger. I started Masterson’s conglomerate from nothing. It’s my legacy to you. Protect that legacy and pass it on to your children.”
Ace drew an audible sigh and replied, “I know grandpa. I love you too. I have a meeting at the office,” he added, before giving the old man a peck on the forehead.
Ace prepared to leave when the old man called out, “Better hurry with the search for the perfect wife. I may die tomorrow.”
“Sure! You’ll probably outlive us all, you wily bastard.” Ace replied, as the old man cackled with laughter.
The rest of Ace Masterson’s day was full. He managed a meeting with his top executives, a lunch with a prince from Saudi Arabia interested in buying his aviation company in Jeddah, another meeting with a senator, and closed a deal for a tract of land in India.
He returned to the main office ready to call it a day. A couple of checks needed his signature and Sienna’s note explained it was for the laid off personnel in a downtown office. He grabbed a decanter from a nearby console and poured himself a shot of brandy before signing the checks. All were payable to unfamiliar names. He recalled a memo about cutting the secretarial pool.
“This must be it,” he contemplated.
“I wonder if it’s too late for a booty call.”
Ava, a girl he met in a bar said to call anytime he felt lonely.
“Shit, I’m not even in the mood.”
He powered on his Mac, deciding to check his emails. He had over 20 unread messages in his inbox. He scrolled through the names deciding there was nothing urgent that he couldn’t deal with tomorrow. He scrolled to the last email and saw it was from a Miranda Benson.
He didn’t know her, but the name sounded familiar. He clicked the inbox and was surprised to read the first line: Dear Mrs. Ann Mason.
“What the fuck…”
The email wasn’t for him; the sender had typed the wrong address. He wanted to ignore it but curiosity got the upper hand. She sounded distraught, probably the reason for the mix-up of names. Something clicked inside his head as he reached over and rifled through the checks he signed. There was one payable to Miranda Benson.
Ace leaned back on his swivel chair. The glow from the computer illuminated his good-looking face. He felt bad about the woman’s predicament. She sounded like a devoted mom, and spirited enough to coax her supervisor to plead her case. Her email was concise and clear.
“
An intelligent woman my grandfather would approve of.”
Then
,
“
What if…”
He clicked on the Mac, in search of Mastersons’ personnel database. He entered Miranda Bensons name and drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently. The Mac blinked, then pulled the woman’s image from its vast memory.
Miranda had a long face and wide jaw line, a broad and beautiful smile that enhanced the attractive face. The distance between her hazel eyes was wide, making them a prominent feature. Her reddish brown hair was tied back, with loose bangs framing her face.
“I wonder how she would look naked, with that hair hanging freely over her shoulder.”
Ace shrugged the notion away but an idea hurtled through his brain. If it worked, Grandfather Masterson would hand over control of the company and Miranda Benson would be in a better position to keep her daughter.
***
Miranda reported for work the next day and headed straight for Ann Mason’s office. She tossed and turned all night debating if the email had been a bad call. Yesterday she was both panicked and desperate. Today she was just worried about Ann’s reaction. She prayed Ann understood her predicament as she headed directly to the woman’s cubicle.
“Ann, about the email...” Miranda began.
“Miranda,” Ann spoke simultaneously, “I was about to call for you.”
Miranda was relieved. Ann had read the email and seemed okay.
“About the email, I wanted to explain…”
“What email?” Ann asked. “I haven’t gone through my inbox yet. But that’s not why you’re here. I got a call from HQ. You are needed at the penthouse. Look for Sienna, she’ll take care of you.”
“What? Why?” Miranda asked, taken aback. Ann looked at her like she was an idiot. Anyone else would swoon at the chance, but Miranda looked ready to flee.
“I don’t know why. I just follow orders like you do.” Ann retorted.
In less than an hour, Miranda found herself in front of Mastersons’ Conglomerate. The gold, glass and chrome façade, customized with suspended planters, was its own version of subdued affluence. It wasn’t hard to imagine the wealth that poured into its various organizations.
Sienna met her at the lobby and led her to a room that was bigger than her entire office. She sat, feeling like an intruder and regretting turning down the offer of a drink. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Miranda fidgeted, running a sweaty palm through her hair; her throat burned as she ran a tongue across dry lips. She kept an eye on the door, wallowing in the tension. She could still make a run for it, but then she’d never know why she was summoned in the first place.
The door opened and Miranda gawked. The billionaire CEO and ruler of this empire approached, clutching a manila envelope, his free hand outstretched for a handshake. “Miss Benson, I’m…”
“…Ace Masterson,” Miranda squeaked, taking the outstretched hand. “I know who you are. Technically, you’re my boss.”
“Can I offer you anything before we begin?”
“The girl, err-your secretary, offered me a drink earlier. I’m sorry I declined because I’m nervous being here and feel like peeing. I don’t know why I got summoned. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong and I’m being cut from the secretarial pool which really sucks. A glass of water would be great.” Miranda blathered.
Ace smiled. She was a bundle of nerves; an effect he had on most women. Who could blame her?
Ace was Hollywood drop-dead gorgeous. His pictures didn’t do him justice. His hair was short in a perfect French crop, complementing the five o’clock shadow on a perfectly squared jaw. He didn’t forget to shave. This was designer stubble at its sexiest. Animal magnetism sluiced from every pore.
“Would you like to use the bathroom before we begin?” he asked kindly.
Miranda jumped at the opportunity and, once alone, chastised her reflection in the mirror. “You’re acting like an idiot.”
Summoning a level of poise that she hardly possessed, Miranda emerged and immediately gulped down a glass of water too quickly, drowning herself in the process. She coughed wildly as Ace handed her a box of tissues.
“I’m sorry…” she apologized, turning crimson.
“Miss Benson…may I call you Miranda? I called you here to offer you a job.” He announced.
“B-b-but I thought I was getting fired,” she stuttered, then “Really?” in voice two octaves higher. How on earth did that happen?
“Yes, really,” he answered lightly, “But I need to know some things about you.”
Miranda nodded effusively as she controlled the urge to whoop. Had she known, she would have prepared a CV. “Please feel free to ask,” she replied, eagerly.
“You’re a single mom caring for your daughter, right?” Miranda nodded, wondering how he knew.
“You are not getting spousal support and your only means of income is your job as secretary?”
“Yes,” she replied, embarrassed.
“Do you have a boyfriend, or anyone special in your life right now?” Miranda shook her head slowly, wondering where this was going.
Doesn’t he want to know how fast I can type?
“Are you having sex with anyone on a regular basis?”
“No!” she sputtered, “I mean…I hardly have time for my daughter. A man would just be a distraction.” Miranda wondered if this was the interview or he was just plain nosy.
“Would you like to get married again someday?”
“When the right man comes along,” She answered honestly.
“Could you describe your ideal husband?”
Miranda was baffled by all these unorthodox questions, but decided to humor him. Bottom-line, he was the CEO and intended to give her a job.
“He should learn to love my daughter, and should respect me as a partner. He must be capable of working hard to secure a stable future for us as family. He would never cheat on me because I never will.”
Miranda saw approval in his eyes, although she wondered if telling him she could type 75 words per minute would sway the odds in her favor.
“One last question. Would you agree to marry someone that you’ve just met for the first time?”
“NO! That would be idiotic.” Miranda felt she had extended him enough courtesy to warrant an explanation. “Mr. Masterson, what’s all this about?”
Ace leaned back and deliberated. “What I’m about to offer you may sound crazy, but please hear me out and let me explain,” he said.
Miranda’s superficial composure turned to embarrassment when Ace described reading the email meant for Ann Mason. “I’m really sorry…” she started to apologize.
He flashed his palm, gesturing her to stop. She listened on and hardly believed her ears when he detailed the rest of his story. Miranda gaped at him, shocked beyond belief.
“You want me to marry you?” she asked, horrified.
“Call it a marriage of convenience. It’s a business deal. I’ll pay generously for your time. When my grandfather hands me the deed to the company, we’ll get a quickie divorce and you’ll have enough money to keep your daughter.”
“Don’t you have a girlfriend to do that with?” It was indiscreet, and Miranda regretted asking.
“Not at the moment,” Ace replied, seemingly unperturbed. “You’re different from any of my girlfriends he’s met. Grandpa was never predictable and that’s why I think he might believe that I’ve fallen for you. We can say it was a whirlwind romance. We met and fell in love.”
Ace’s enthusiasm for the plot was infectious. “Please say yes,” he begged, “You’ll help me and I’ll help you with your dilemma. I think this is a win-win for both of us.”
“
THIS is such a ideal situation. Being married to Ace would mean that James can’t threaten me about Sadie anymore…and marriage with a sexy man like Ace is the wildest thing that could ever happen to me. It will be over soon and it will all be okay for everyone. I’m crazy if I say no.”
she reminded herself.
“Okay! I say yes.” Miranda agreed, feeling secure for the first time.
***
Miranda knew deceiving the head of a conglomerate wouldn’t be child’s play. The old man may be senile, but he was not a fool. Ace suggested spending time together- a lot of time together- “business meetings” he called them, to become familiar with one another. The only rules were honesty, no holds barred, and no judgment.
Miranda volunteered information about her past, nothing was spared, even her first kiss and the first man she ever made out with. She even answered Ace’s probing questions about bra size and her favorite sexual positions. Questions about married life and divorce were difficult; Ace seemed to notice, dropped the prying and moved on. Miranda came to know about his shenanigans with past girlfriends, the lavish gifts, his wealth and travels, and his consuming passion for the company.