Enchanted: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #8): A Fake Fiancée Romance Page 7

  “He sounds like he was heartbroken without your mom.”

  “He was. My parents’ relationship is something I don’t think everyone finds. I think some of the people we work with have it, but I look at friends from B-school, and I think they settled and are unhappy. I don’t want that.”

  “How did your stepmonster and father meet?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. I was away at camp when I was twelve, my dad called me and told me that he’d met and married Lillian. It was like he’d bought a car or a watch. There was nothing endearing about how he described their relationship. After camp was over, I went home for Christmas and met her and her two sons. My dad was putting them through an expensive prep school, and they were assholes, so that was the last holiday I spent with them. I’d come home now and again. I went to B-school close to home in Philly, and my dad and I would try to meet up every few months for dinner. Lillian would rarely come. When she was around, dinner conversation was too awkward. I hadn’t talked to him in a few months, but usually, he’d send me an email telling me he was traveling or going out of town, so this trip to Tanzania was a surprise.”

  When she reaches out and touches my arm, I feel an electric charge that sends jolts of electricity to my groin. “I’m very sorry about your dad. I’ll talk to Emerson and let you know.”

  We’ve arrived at the office. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

  We part ways, her to her cubicle and me to my desk. I watch as she puts her purse down and hangs her coat. The message light is blinking on my phone, so I pick up my messages and begin to return calls. Before long, the interoffice messaging system alerts me of a new message.

  Quinn: I can take next week off.

  Me: Thank you. Did you want to talk more tonight?

  Quinn: Since I’ll be missing five days of my second job, I need to get some work done. How about we talk over the weekend and you can tell me what I should pack, and we can talk on the plane.

  Me: Breakfast on Saturday morning? We can hit the Embarcadero Farmers Market and hang out a bit?

  Quinn: That may work. Thank you for asking me to join you.

  Me: I should be thanking you. Wait until you meet Dumb and Stupid. You’ll understand why they have those nicknames.

  Chapter ten

  Quinn

  CeCe picks up on the first ring. “Hey, are we still on for lunch today?”

  “I’m still planning on it. Do you want to meet over at the Salad Bar off of Second?”

  “That sounds perfect to me. I can’t wait. Does noon or twelve thirty work better?” I ask.

  “Let’s go for noon or maybe a few minutes before. That way we can get our lunches and a table without spending most of our time in line and being stuck scarfing our lunch standing.”

  “Great idea. See you then.”

  My morning clicks by quickly. I can’t believe how much work I have on my plate. We’ve got three new companies we’ve recently invested in and are coming on board. It’s my job to help line things up and get prepared for not only an operations team but getting communications between the various departments all in line with what we typically like to see with companies working under the SHN umbrella. We aren’t a company that typically writes a check and walks away. If we are investing millions, which we typically are, then we want to be involved.

  Since I know I can easily get absorbed in my work and lose track of time, I set an alarm on my phone. I have a terrible habit of getting so involved in my work that, unless I have a reminder, I’ll look up at my clock and find that it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, or even worse, the person I’m meeting for lunch calls and asks if I’m coming. I really want to sit down with CeCe today. I have some questions for her that maybe as an advisor to SHN she might be willing to answer.

  When I walk into the Salad Bar, I don’t see CeCe, so I take a seat just inside the door and start scrolling through my personal emails and social media, seeing all kinds of fun things that my friends are doing in other parts of the country. Why am I here in San Francisco? There are no men of any value to meet, the cost of living is off the page, and I’m going into significant debt living here. It’s overwhelming. I adore my friends and the lifestyle that San Francisco provides, but beyond that, it seems to be a losing proposition, and I can’t determine whether or not it’s a good idea to be here.

  “Hey, there she is.”

  Glancing up, I spot CeCe as she approaches. She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. I can’t believe that she has adopted me as a friend. She’s gorgeous, funny, beautiful, wealthy, and not only is she a tabloid darling, but she owns and runs a fabulous independent cosmetics company that her mom founded. There are people who would give their right arm to be her friend.

  I grew up in Florida. My dad had a great job, and my mother was head of the PTO and involved in a thousand volunteer activities. My childhood was Norman Rockwell normal, and CeCe’s from an old monied family and listed on Forbes list of billionaires, and we learned recently she is dating a real prince—the royal kind. I bring nothing to our relationship, and obviously that is more my issue than hers because she doesn’t hesitate to invite me to things and spend time with me.

  “You look fabulous today,” she informs me. I’m in all black—my go-to color. It makes my pale skin and blonde hair pop.

  “So do you. I love that outfit.” She stands back, and she shows it off to me. She’s put together unbelievably well in a pair of navy palazzo pants, a beautiful white and navy floral print blouse, and a unique cut navy blazer over it and a lot of chunky silver jewelry. She looks outstanding as usual. “Where did you find that outfit?”

  “It was one of the designers I worked with at fashion week last spring, and she made it for me.”

  “You have such gorgeous clothes. I just want your hand-me-downs.”

  She laughs. “I usually give them to the abused women shelter that we work with at Metro Composition, but if you really wanted this, I’m sure we can get this for you.”

  “No, I’m just teasing. It’s great all the work you do with such an outstanding group, and they need the clothes more than I do.”

  “Yes, it’s all about getting these women back to work and helping them gain some self-confidence, which hopefully means they don’t find themselves in the cycle of abuse anymore.”

  “Exactly, which is why they need your hand-me-downs more than I do. Let’s get some salads before the lunch line becomes too long.”

  Feeling the pressure of eating healthy because I’m with a beautiful, perfect-figured goddess, I order something incredibly healthy with dressing on the side. This is not my typical MO. My preference is typically burgers, fries, a milkshake, and a Diet Coke. When we sit down at our table, I look at her salad and see it’s my kind of salad—creamy dressing, sunflower seeds, cheese, eggs, croutons, and a tiny bit of lettuce. “That looks amazing.”

  “Lettuce is for rabbits. I like all the toppings with salad dressing, so I like to come here.”

  I shake my head and chuckle. “You’re a woman after my own heart. Next time let’s do burgers and fries.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Between bites, I ask, “Tell me a little bit about what’s going on with you. I haven’t seen you since the wedding in Las Vegas.”

  “Oh, you know a little bit of this, a little bit of that. We’re preparing for the fall Fashion Week. How are things at SHN?”

  “I think we’re good. We have several companies going public. We’re seeing some growth in Christopher’s area in biotech companies, which is new and interesting. William has some great prospects with a big financial company that he’ll probably wrap up in the next few days.”

  “Why didn’t you want to be a partner at SHN?”

  “I did. I was hoping to be on the partner track, but I’ve come to realize they aren’t ever going to offer me a partnership. When Perkins Klein went under, I wasn’t working and needed a job, so I took what I could find.”

  “Rumor has it, you’re thinki
ng of jumping ship.” She watches me closely, and I’m sure she’ll call me on it if I lie.

  “Emerson told you. I’m kicking myself for calling Jeannine.”

  “Don’t kick yourself. You should have been offered a partnership. Sometimes it’s good to rattle their cages. You’re an asset to SHN, and it’s good for them to realize that.”

  “CeCe, I know why I wasn’t offered partnership. It’s because of my past with Mason.”

  If I didn’t know CeCe well, I might have missed the look of surprise on her face. “What past with Mason?”

  “We were pretty serious in business school. I think I was his first girlfriend. You know how shy he is. But it didn’t end well.”

  “What happened?”

  “It wasn’t fireworks and drama. He was more focused on money, and a relationship was not even in the top five of his priorities. We got along great, but he wasn’t really around much. We’d make plans for a date, and he’d choose not to show up. The first time I just forgave him. The second, I blew up, and the third time, I broke it off. He was in love with making money and not me. I think I was more than fair to give up after three strikes. My mother would say, ‘Shame on him the first time it happened. The second time, shame on me. The third time, what the heck?’”

  She giggles. I totally get it. He can be hyper-focused.”

  “That’s a great description. But what’s the deal with him and Annabelle?”

  “Good question. I think we all wonder what’s going on with them. He seems rather smitten with her and ignores all of his friends who have been subtle and not so subtle with their warnings about her.” CeCe looks around to be sure no one is listening. “For me, I can’t quite see the logic in dating her. She seems a little too eager, a little too possessive, a little too driven by him and his wants, and she’s very dependent upon him. In the past, he always seemed to prefer an independent woman like you.”

  “Well, she’s kind of a unique creature. I’m totally gossiping when I say I thought she was pretty furious in Las Vegas.”

  CeCe scoffs. “Yeah, I saw that she was not happy to watch Christopher and Bella get married. Mason and Annabelle hooked up about the time Emerson and Dillon got together. So she’s watched his friends couple and get married, and when Christopher and Bella happened very quickly, she went over the edge. She’s been vying for a ring and marriage since before they met.”

  “I know this is terrible gossip,” I tell her, “but why is he with her? She must be able to suck a golf ball through a garden hose. I can’t help but think she’s truly in it for just the money.”

  “I think that’s what a lot of us worry about. Mason and I are great friends, and we talk often. But boy, when things went sideways before the wedding with Bella’s business partner and they were held hostage at the office, there I was terrified for him, and Annabelle was nowhere to be seen.”

  “I know! Isn’t that terrible? We were talking about that in the office.” I take a deep pull of my Diet Coke.

  “Why didn’t I know you dated Mason?”

  “Well, as far as I can tell, it’s not a secret, or at least I didn’t think it was. Maybe it is, and he’ll be mad at me for sharing that. I believe that’s why he put his foot down about me becoming a partner. He’s been pretty mad at me for breaking it off with him. He’s like an elephant, and he never forgets.”

  “Why would he be mad at you if he wasn’t showing up for dates?”

  “Exactly. Why get all worked up over something when he was so focused on something else? He wasn’t thinking about our relationship, and I’m not saying that I needed to be front and center all the time, every time, but when you make plans and you don’t show up, you’re an ass, and I didn’t need to put up with that.”

  “No girl needs to put up with that,” she sympathizes.

  I need to change the subject. “Tell me more about this prince of yours.”

  She smiles and becomes a little bashful. “I met him at Fashion Week almost a year ago. He seems very smitten and attentive. But he’s not perfect. He’s never really worked. His brother is king of their country and has like four kids, so he’s number five in line of succession. He doesn’t ever foresee himself being king. Instead, his goal is to have a great time. I think he seems a little lost and gravitates to me because I’m not all about what he can do for me. But he doesn’t quite understand what having commitments and a job actually means. He’ll say, ‘Hey, let’s go to the Caribbean this week,’ and I can’t because I have to work or I have a fundraiser, or I just want to stay home and put my feet up after working a long day.”

  “Oh, the tragedy of being rich.” I fan myself as if I’m hot.

  “He’s spoiled and rich,” she reminds me.

  “I’ll never dispute that. You’re amazingly grounded. You have a great outlook on life, and I feel grateful that you’re my friend.”

  She reaches across the table and touches my arm. “And I feel the same way—we are friends.”

  “That means a lot to me. Thank you.”

  “Promise me that you are not going to leave SHN quite yet.”

  I debate telling her about my second job and the fact that William knows and could tell the other partners and derail me completely. I’d love to share with her that I’m only looking for a job because I’m afraid that they’re going to fire me. Instead, I give her the big-picture answer. “I have a second job. I can barely make ends meet, and the problem with that becomes how much I love this city and how much I love my friends, but if I can’t afford to work here and live here, then I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s got to get better.”

  “You’ve heard the stories about my dad’s illness and my school loans. It was hard for my mom, and she left. Honestly, it’s not just the money that I owe, it’s just I live in a fucking tiny little apartment just so that I can live alone. I’m thirty-one years old, and I don’t want a roommate that I don’t sleep with. My heat is electric, and I can’t even afford to run it for fear that I can’t pay the electric bill.” I’m whining, and I need to keep my problems to myself—even if CeCe is a good friend.

  She leans in and gives me a big hug. “I can’t say I truly understand, but I swear, just be patient. Emerson is doing everything she can to help you.”

  “CeCe, it’s not her job to help me change it, and this is not a pity party for me. I just want you to know why I’m looking.”

  “I know they’d never tell you you can’t have a second job, but I also know that you’re vital to the success at SHN. Trust in Emerson.”

  “I do. I worry Mason will use my having a second job against me because he still hates me.”

  “Quite frankly, he needs to get over that hate because everybody else adores you.”

  “Well, you’re my friend and, apparently, the president of my personal fan club, so I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.”

  We spend the rest of lunch talking about her prince and where she’s challenged by him and what she loves about him. Apparently, he’s a dynamo between the sheets, and so I’m happy for her.

  When it comes time to go back to work, I’m reminded that her life, even with all the money she has, isn’t easy. She faces problems on a bigger scale. Someone takes our photograph during lunch, and two men—handsome of course—stop her on the way out and hand her their cards. She’s always gracious when they ask her out. It’s a constant battle for her.

  Chapter eleven

  William

  Taking my place in the back of the Cadillac Escalade, I reach for my phone.

  Me: We’re leaving my place and should be at your apartment in ten minutes.

  I’m nervous. This is a part of my life that I don’t share with many. Most people look at me and think I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and don’t have anything to worry about in life, but just because I have money to pay for things doesn’t mean I don’t have significant challenges in other parts of my life. There is a reason I live almost three thousand miles awa
y from my family.

  As we pull up in front of her building, I see her standing on the sidewalk. She takes my breath away, and I suddenly find my palms sweating. I’m not sure if it alarms me more that Quinn does this to me, or just how much could be riding on this long week ahead.

  I jump out to let her get in. As she moves across the back seat, the driver places her bag in the back. “I hope I packed enough clothes. You didn’t tell me what to expect.”

  “You’ll be fine. If we need something else, there are stores in Philly, and I’m happy to pay for it. You’re doing me a favor, after all.”

  She looks at me carefully, and I know she can see into my soul. “I guess we’re ready then. What time does our flight take off?”

  “As soon as we get settled.”

  She looks confused, but I’ve purposely chosen to withhold the information on our flight. Gerald, our driver, maneuvers us out of the city and down the 101 to the private plane terminal at SFO. “What airlines are we taking?”

  “Bettencourt Air.”