What Money Can Buy (2 page)

"No, Miss Wade. I don't mess about. Life is fast. You delay for one second and you get left behind.
Are
you the sort of person who gets left behind?"

"I'm not sure
I’ve
moved forward enough to get left behind anywhere."

"Then we'll have to see what we can do about that. Mediocrity isn't an option in my life. I'm quite looking forward to our little adventure together. You might learn something."

"No disrespect, M
r King, but why aren't you taking
Amanda
, your personal assistant? Surely s
he's more qualified for this than
I am."

"Because," he said with a sigh, "Amanda is very good but I need someone who isn't going to question everything I do. As you will soon find out, I work hard
and play hard. Amanda can be…w
ell, she can be a pain in the a
s
s at times."

I smiled. He was absolutely right, of course.

"Let's ju
st keep that between us, okay?"

He walked back to his desk and I began to leave his office
. "Thank you, Mr King," I said.

He didn't look up. "Jason. Call me Jason."

After
eight-and-a-half
hours in the air, I touched down in Milan. Jason had already left the
day
before in order to catch up with business he had to attend to overnight. He was generous, though – my flight was
in business
class and I managed to not only sleep
on a fully-reclining chair
, but
also
read a book in peace and quiet. Now I was here, I could hardly believe my eyes. The city
was fast and congested, not
unlike New York in many ways, except I couldn't speak a word of the language. Luckily,
a
driver had
been
arranged
to pick me up from the airport
and take me straight to the meeting we had with Jason's supplier.

Jason was late. The
stocky Italian guy opposite me kept tapping at his watch and sigh
ing out loud. He said some things in Italian – some of which seem
ed fairly bad tempered – and I
nervously smiled at
him. He smiled back
and
,
a couple of times
, gestured to the coffee
machine. At first I assumed he wanted me to get him one
, but he was more concerned about my well-being
.
I politely made myself an espresso and sipped at it nervously. He left the room and returned moments later with a box of Amaretto biscuits for me, miming dipping motions with his hands.
It seemed, even though my boss was annoying the hell out of him, he
actually wanted
to take care of me.

That wasn’t all he wanted. Both he and a colleague kept looking at me, glancing at my long legs beneath the glass desk and staring at my bare neck. It was hot in Milan and a tight, plunging top probably hadn’t been the best choice of attire. Still, it distracted them. I was used to men checking me out, even if I was running down a New York street with headphones blasting Arcade Fire into my ears while sweat dripped off me. I didn’t care anymore.

Now I knew why Jason brought me here. Looks don't hurt.

When Jason finally arrived, he stormed into the room, shook the guy's hand, and immediately launched into what I could tell was a
tirade
in Italian. The man next to me desperately tried to translate as quickly as possible so I could make notes. I did my best but it got fairly heated. Eventually the Italian went a shade of crimson red and, hands waving around as he spoke, seemed to be
apologizing
. Jason sat
down, glaring at the Italian
. He looked
over to
me and flashed a little smile. I felt my heart beat faster for a second and I looked back down to my notepad, full of incomprehensible scribblings that I would simply have to turn into something remotely decipherable later on.

Eventually
they shook hands, embraced, and all seemed well again. Jason put his hand on my shoulder and ushered me out. What an absolutely bizarre meeting.

I felt myself getting angry inside. Had he really brought me here
just
as eye candy?

"Mr King…"

He put the palm of his hand up. "Outside," he sternly replied.

Once we had left the building, he turned to me. "Never, ever discuss anything while you are still in the building of another company. It doesn't matter whether they're suppliers or customers. Walls have ears."

I looked up at him. Even in my five inch heels, he towered above
my petite frame
. "You always maintain silence on the
way out
?"

"Yes," he replied. "Every advantage is important, no matter how small.
”

"Why did you bring me here? I had virtually nothing to do in that meeting. I can't even speak a word of Italian. My notes are
an
absolute mess
,
Mr King. I'm just warning you – there wasn't much to write down."

He laughed. "I don't care about that. That was just
for
show. Whatever note
s
you
’ve
taken, scrap
them
. I just negotiated a massive increase in productivity from these guys for less money than I'm already paying them. The notes are irrelevant."

"So I'm here because…"

"Because you're gorgeous," he interrupted. "Italians love beautiful women – and Amanda, while competent, could hardly be called beautiful."

All the
rumors
were true. He was a sexist pig after all. Typically, I ended up feeling flattered though. I didn't show it – I wanted to demonstrate some degree of anger.

"That's outrageous," I sai
d in my best attempt at being i
rate. "You wouldn't treat a man like that."

"Of course I wouldn't," he laughed. "
Men aren’t my type.
But don't see it as an insult. See it as a compliment. I didn't say Amanda was bad at her job, did I? Just because I don't find a woman attractive doesn't mean I don't
respect
them."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty flimsy excuse," I said.

"Maybe," Jason replied with a twinkle in his eye. "But you can't help being beautiful."

I felt myself blushing. "You shouldn't bring people to meetings just to butter people up."
That was
such
a hopeless thing to say
. I felt my resolve begin to crumble.

"You're absolutely right, Lauren. I shouldn't. But I do. Competitive advantage, remember? I wasn't even late. I was outside the building
for
15 minutes, knowing that he would be looking at your legs.
Th
e tight top didn’t hurt, either, so thanks for that.
Come on, let's get in the car."

A driver ushered me into the
rear
of a black Alfa Romeo. Jason got in the back with me, and I felt my throat go dry at being in such a confined space with him. Thinking about what he had just said, I pulled my skirt down as far as I could, and I caught him glancing a look at my
cleavage
.

"Now you're doing it too?"

"Don't worry," he smiled. "
I’m not
about to jump on you. Maybe not just yet, anyway."

I looked at him, aghast.

"Don't look so shocked," he said, scrolling through the contacts on his phone. "You've got a great body, you're wearing sexy
clothes
, you have black stockings and high heels on. Show me a man who wouldn't look."

This was cra
zy. I felt my nipples begin to h
arden under the lace of my unpadded bra and a moist heat began to form between my legs
. I brushed my shoulder-length a
uburn hair behind my ears nervously.

Jason leaned into me. "Does that make you feel uncomfortable?"

I swallowed hard, desperately trying to alleviate
the
dryness in my throat. "Yes. A little."

He leaned in f
urther, his lips close to mine.
"Does this mak
e you feel more uncomfortable?"

I was being intimidated, tested. As much as I felt my body respond, I wasn't going to allow it. I looked at him.
“
Do you want me to be?
”
I asked.
“Is that what you enjoy? Making women squirm?”

His face broke into a
warm, beautiful smile that didn't seem to contain a hint of intimidation or malice. "You're impressive," he said. "Maybe I should be a little more honest."

He sat back in his seat.

"Honest?" I said, raising my eyebrows.

"I didn't just bring you here on business. Like I said, I think you're beautiful."

I felt myself blushing again. "Mr King, I…"

"Do you have a boyfriend? A husband?"

I shook my head.

"Well then, I'm going to take you to dinner tonight to find out why. Because, let's be frank, you shouldn't be single." He leaned forward and spoke to the driver. "Take
us
to Milan airport," he said.

"Yes, s
ir," the driver replied, switching lanes to head in the correct direction.

"The airport?" I asked.

"We're not going to dinner here, Lauren," he said softly. "Milan is a business city, much like New York but with different accents. We're going somewhere far more special. You see
,
I'm not quite the arrogant prick everybody thinks I am. Some of the
m are
right, of course."

I smiled. There was a chink in this guy's
armor
– and I was it.

"No, I'm going to take you somewhere that means an awful lot to me. It's part of the reason I am who I am today. My mother
took
me
t
here when I was a little boy, and I've been astounded by its beauty ever since. It's only fitting you should go."

My heart was beating faster than ever as we
sped
towards the airport. "Where?"

He looked at me, his eyes sparkling. "Venice."

As the city came into view, I felt tears begin to form in my eyes. We had been picked up from Marco Polo airport and taken, first by
limousine
then by a private
boat,
to
arrive at the most majestic part
of Venice. This isn't the sort of
view
a girl like me gets to see very often, if ever.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Jason asked.

I nodded, choked up. "Yes," I replied. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

We docked near St Mark
’
s Square
and Jason
took my hand, leading me off the boat and to
the front of the
B
asilica. There, a man holding a board with
‘KING’
in large capital letters approached us.

"Mr King, so glad to have you back in Venice!"

Jason shook his hand. "Great to see you, Alberto. How
are the
wife and kids?"

"You know, the usual. Maria won't let me spend what I want on fancy new technology and the kids confiscate whatever gadgets I do manage to buy. It's a vicious circle, Mr King." They both laughed. "And who is this beautiful young woman? Your new wife?"

Jason smiled and looked at me. "No, Alberto. Not yet, anyway.
But I’m working on it.
"

I blushed.

"This is Lauren Wade, my assistant on this trip. Lauren, meet Alberto. He's a very good friend of mine."

He kissed my hand. "A pleasure to meet you," he said. "I hope you're not putting up with any of his bullshit."

I laughed. "No, I'm far too smart for that."

I looked at Jason
.
He was smiling uncontrollably as he looked up at the architecture
.
My God, he was gorgeous
. Was this the man everybody had claimed was such an insufferable prick? Such an absolute bastard with
so
little regard for people's feelings? If that was the case,
I
wasn't sure wh
at was going on
. He was either playing me for a
fool
,
was
an amazing actor
, or everybody had been mistaken
.
Either
way, at this stage
at least
, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.