to get going.
Connor texted her at ten o’clock. Pick you up at 11:30, he said. She groaned and headed into the shower. Her feet were pissed at her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn stilettos, standing, for so many hours straight. Normally, at a club or a work event, she felt like she had permission to go barefoot at a certain point. Or slip into the foldable ballet flats she used to pack in her purse. But with Connor, she didn’t even have to ask to know that would be a violation of her contract.
She let the hot water soak into her skin and soothe her muscles. Sam worked through what she saw had become a daily ritual now. Complete hair removal, exfoliation, deep conditioning treatments for her hair, and an immediate post-shower moisturizing regimen.
Sam padded into her bedroom to flip to the James-approved outfit of the day. He’d even gone so far as to attach notes to each outfit specifying the date, time and occasion of her dresses.
She pulled it out and found another little backless number. He sure liked those, and was probably totally unaware of how awkward it was to wear little stick-on cutlets over her breasts instead of a real bra. This dress was floral, bright, and flared out at the hips before stopping at her knees. He’d paired them with a strappy pair of silver Jimmy Choos.
Connor came to her door, and she thought she saw him look her up and down, but it was impossible to really tell behind his reflective sunglasses. “You look nice,” he said.
“So, all James’ note said was ‘investors meet and greet.’ Care to tell me more about my duties here?” she asked as Connor drove them to The Mansion on O Street. I have to admit, I’m getting a serious introduction into some great venues and catering for work with all these outings, she thought to herself.
“I’ll basically be conducting information mini-interviews with some contacts. There will also be some investors, and potential investors, for Trezor there,” he said.
“So my job is…”
“Arm candy,” he said. “Sorry, babe. I have a feeling not too many WAGs will be there.”
“Babe? WAGs?” she asked. “You’re a strange one, you know that?”
“And just so you know, people won’t be drinking. Well, drinking as much, I should say. For some reason people think it’s okay to go bottoms up for hours when it’s called a mimosa.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it’s also a smaller, more intimate gathering. Which means more eyes will be on us. We really need to sell the whole happy engaged couple shtick,” he said.
“Got it.”
Pulling up to the mansion, the valets had to have been sweating in their heavy velvet costumes. Still, they plastered smiles on their faces and rushed to open Sam’s door. We’re all playing our part, she thought.
Connor placed his hand on her back to guide her up the stairs, and she stiffened at his touch on her bare skin. He hadn’t touched her so intimately on Friday night, mostly offering an elbow or taking her hand. Something about this made her feel like he knew her too well.
“That’s the Steins, over there,” he murmured under his breath. He took a mimosa for himself, but she shook her head when he offered her one. Without a word, he got a flute of just orange juice for her. “They’re current investors, but have lowered their funding in recent years. His wife is big in philanthropy. Shocker. Here we go.”
She warmly greeted the wife first, followed by the stodgy husband. Sam had found that older women weren’t intimidated by her, and there was rarely any cattiness in their interactions. It was a welcome change from the twenty- and thirtysomethings she was used to dealing with at the office.
“Connor, you have such a lovely fiancée,” Mrs. Stein said. “And so eloquent, too. Not many young women have both qualities these days, I’m afraid.”
“I count myself very lucky,” he told her, before he disappeared with her husband to talk business in the corner.
“I must say, we thought Connor would never get married,” Mrs. Stein said. “He had a bit of a… reputation. As I’m sure you know. But, alas, men never change. All it takes is one good woman to snap them out of that playboy state.”
She smiled amicably at the older woman. “I do love a challenge,” she said.
Mrs. Stein laughed, her blue-tinted hair swishing around her face. “Don’t we all, dear.”
Connor returned, his big smile matched