Chapter 4

4

MASON

M onday mornings were my favorite. Several dozen stories below my office, New York City was alive and noisy, everyone hustling to work after a long, holiday weekend. I couldn’t wait to be back here, in my modern, sleek office where everything was exactly how I liked it. Quiet. Organized. Easy on the eyes with no clutter, none at all.

My split-screen desktop computer was full of expense reports and a wash of numbers. Normally, I would be fully immersed in making sure these reports were totally correct before sending them off to my financial department, adding any notes my accountants might need. Normally, I’d be zoned out completely, my eyes barely leaving my screen until I heard the familiar shuffle of my executive assistant, Gabby, leaving for the day.

But today I was a little off. A little distracted. Okay, more than distracted. I kept glancing at the inbox I keep for personal use—doctors’ appointments, scheduling of private events, and even the rare correspondence with old friends. It was the email I’d used to send Fia the invitation and instructions for our first event together.

Why did I want to come to work this morning and find an email from her waiting for me? Possibly to tell me how nice of an evening she had, how she was looking forward to the next time we saw each other?

This was not how I was used to operating. Sure, I’d been with my fair share of women. I wasn’t a total monk, but I’d also never put myself out there like I was doing right then. There were several moments last night where I forgot that what I had with Fia was fake, that her smiles were practiced, and her cute moniker for me, darling, had been said in jest.

For reasons unknown to me, being around her felt easy, natural, and comfortable.

Safe to say, I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting her .

The door to my office opened. I looked up, expecting to find Gabby darkening the doorway with another unexpected phone call or delivery of another gaudy Thanksgiving-themed flower arrangement from my clients and investors, but no. Colin kicked the door closed before sauntering over to my desk, setting a paper cup of coffee down in front of me, and sinking into one of the finely made black leather armchairs in front of my desk.

I glanced at my calendar, wondering if I’d missed a meeting with him and his department leads this morning.

“We didn’t have a meeting,” he said, reading my mind. “I was just stopping by. Thought I’d check in and say hi.”

Colin, my CFO, had offices two floors below me. Heritage Spirits took up twelve floors of the building, with our flagship restaurant starting at street level, a few private event spaces on floors two, and three, and then our offices. The distillery was near the port, of course. I needed the space and ease that came with owning a large commercial building with several warehouses attached. There was a small tasting room there, too.

But I had a feeling Colin wasn’t here to talk business.

“So, I didn’t get to talk to you much at the dinner.” He stretched out his legs and fixed me with a look, smiling around the lid of his coffee cup. “What’d you think? Did she pass whatever test you laid out for her?”

“Who?” I pressed a few buttons on my keyboard to make it look like I was too busy to talk, but Colin might have been the one person in the world who actually got me, who understood how my brain worked.

“Who?” He chuckled. “Fia, of course. Is she comfortable with it? Is it going to work? Or do I need to get my interns out on the streets looking for someone else?”

I cleared my throat. “She’s fine.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what to say to her brother. When he’d offered to ask his younger sister—a bright, bubbly, vivacious twenty-five-year-old photographer—to help with this scheme, I’d been reluctant. I’d known Colin for years. We were roommates at Columbia as freshmen. He was the only reason I’d actually gotten my nose out of my books and went to parties and bars, making the connections I would eventually need to start my first distillery. I trusted very few people, but Colin was on that list, and since he thought his sister could handle this, I’d been willing to at least give it a shot.

I’d met Fia once, at that Christmas party that haunted my nightmares, but I hadn’t given her a single second of my time. Seeing her glowing in the pink dress at dinner? Well, there was a shift in the air, and it didn’t have anything to do with the incoming cold front threatening snow in Manhattan.

“Fia can be a lot, I get it,” he said with a wince. “She knows the dinner was just a trial run. If this isn’t going to work, I’ll tell her. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Actually, she’s perfect, pink dress aside.” I met Colin’s eyes and found him smirking slightly. “Did she…” I was not entirely sure what I was trying to say. She had to have some motive for doing this for me. She didn’t seem like the type of woman to be easily swayed by money or shiny new things she could buy with the limitless credit card I had one of my secretaries drop off at her apartment while picking up the signed NDA.

“Did she have a good time? Hell yeah.” Colin crossed his ankles and slouched, making himself comfortable. “I saw her on Friday and she didn’t have anything bad to say about you.”

“Good.” Again, my mind wrapped around the memory of her waltzing into the restaurant, her body draped in that stunning dress. It hugged every curve, every soft, full angle of her body. And her eyes? The color of smooth, aged whiskey? I reached up to loosen my tie as I turned back to my computer. “This is happening, then. What can I offer her in return for her services?”

“Ew,” he said, chuckling. “She’s not a call girl.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. You owed me a favor but you’re also not the one taking the fall for this publicly. We’ll be in the tabloids, you know. People will be talking about Fia, likely digging up dirt on your family, your parents.”

Colin nodded. “My mom’s a schoolteacher. Dad works for the city. They’re not going to find anything that would make you look bad, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“What I mean is that this is going to be a lot for her. A lot of planning, a lot of details, a lot of people asking her questions about me, and I need to know that she’s prepared for the full brunt of it. The dinner last Thursday is nothing compared to the other events on my schedule, our schedule.”

“It’s Fia.” Colin shrugged. “If anyone can handle the heat, it’s her. That’s why I offered to at least ask if she’d be interested.”

“Why is she even interested?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Colin pursed his lips, spinning his cup around in his hands as he looked down at his lap. “I already told you she’s a photographer. A good one, too. She’s wasting her time on these stupid little photoshoots just to earn enough money to pay her rent.”

“You told me she went to school for event planning. Why isn’t she doing that?”

“How many event planners do you know of in this city alone?”

“Well, hundreds, I’m sure.”

“There you go.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s cutthroat out there. I figured this would be a great opportunity for her to see what goes into these kinds of events, make some connections, start something of her own. She used to work with her ex.” He gritted his teeth and fiddled with the lid of his cup. “A real jackass. Jake Donovan. You might know him. He owns some big catering company here in the city. She practically set him up for the success he’s seeing now.”

I sat up a little straighter, noticing the sudden edge to Colin’s voice. “What happened, exactly?”

“They broke up a year ago. Right before Christmas, which is her favorite time of year. She’s pretty quiet about it. None of us knew him well. She only ever introduced him to our parents once. Dad hated him.” He smiled a bit angrily and shook his head. “Anyway, she’s just been down and kind of all over the place since then. She owed me a favor for nearly ruining my friend’s wedding this summer and I cashed it in with ulterior motives.”

“I can help her make connections if that’s what she wants. I know everyone.”

“I don’t think Fia knows what she wants.” His gaze met mine. “Honestly, if this wasn’t my little sister, I’d say the two of you are perfect for each other.”

I hummed a laugh and turned back to the computer. “What do you mean by that, Colin? I know what I want?—”

“Yeah, in business. I mean, come on, man. You don’t need a fake date for the holidays. There are women simping over you all over the city.”

“I’m not interested in being with anyone,” I told him. It was the cold, honest truth. “Fia is going to be great at this, I think. Thank you for recommending her.”

Colin stared at me for a moment before rising from the chair and taking a long, dramatic sip of his coffee. “Just go easy on her about your rules, okay? That was her one complaint.”

My spine stiffened. “She complained about me?”

His eyes shone with mischief as he paused in the doorway. “She might have said you need to lighten up, but Fia is capable of saying far, far worse. I’d take that as a compliment.”

I leaned back as he left, wondering what the hell Fia meant by that. Lighten up? How? I tapped my fingers on my desk, lost in thought, when Gabby knocked on the door that Colin failed to close on his way out.

“Come in.” I waved her inside.

She stepped into my office, her short platinum blonde bob swinging around her cheeks.

“Do you have a sec? I just got a hand-delivered invitation to a gala this weekend from the Rasmussen Foundation. They want to know if you need a plus-one.”

I looked at my schedule. This weekend was supposed to be completely open, save for a luncheon with one of my investors.

“It’s a new thing,” Gabby said, edging toward my desk with a bright blue envelope in her freshly manicured hand. “Saturday night, the ballroom at the Plaza.” She opened the envelope and handed me the invitation.

“It’s a silent auction,” I mused, intrigued.

“And very, very exclusive,” Gabby pressed, tucking her hands behind her back. “I did some digging and it sounds like a few of your investors might be there.”

“Go ahead and put it on my schedule.” Events like that were always happening around the city—auctions for some grand foundation, some cause, always veiled in glitter and gold. This one, apparently, was veiled in blue. That was the theme, blue winter, whatever the hell that meant. I tended to frequent anything under the umbrella of the Rasmussen name or Smithsonian, seeing as they gave their money to causes that I took interest in. Educational reform, the sciences, health and infrastructure mainly.

“Do you want a plus-one?” she asked.

I glanced at my inbox, at Fia’s email address. “Yeah, I’ll need a plus-one.” Hopefully she wasn’t busy this weekend. It would be a perfect gathering for her to attend.

For whatever reason, my mind flooded with the memory of her in that pink dress again, and I felt a flicker of excitement about what crazy outfit she’d show up in next.