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“The agency got the call,” Sharon said, her face beaming. “We found her.”
“Great work, Sharon. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Oh, it was nothing.”
But Reed knew it was not ‘nothing’. He’d been ready to hire a P.I. firm to help him find the runaway girl and had shared his plan with Sharon.
She’d waved off his idea. “You don’t need a private investigator for that. Let me handle it. How many Golden Brownes do you think could be in the Greater London area?”
Slowly, he nodded. “You’re right. Browne’s pretty common but this is the first Golden I’ve heard of.”
“I’ve heard the name before,” Sharon said, “but it’s definitely not common. Let me do a search before you bring a P.I. in.” Then she cocked her head to one side and gave him a knowing look “You’re really taken with this girl, aren’t you?”
Her question took him by surprise. Despite the fact that he and Sharon had an excellent working relationship he hadn’t expected her question. “Taken?”
Sharon chuckled. “I can see it in your eyes. I’m sorry. I know you too well.” Still chuckling, she went out the door to tackle the task she’d assigned herself, the pursuit of Reed’s latest business interest.
He grimaced. Unfortunately, he couldn’t use that as an excuse, saying she was his latest discovery, a girl who would make a perfect Davidoff model. He could not pretend that his interest in this girl was purely professional. Even his assistant could see through that story.
There was a tap at the door and Sharon stuck her head back in. “I just spoke with them again. The girl contacted the agency after we left a message at her house,” she said. “She plans to stop by their office on Thursday. What do you want me to tell them?”
“Let them gather all her particulars,” he said. “They should be doing that anyway. They’ll need that information for their database.”
Sharon nodded. “Then what? I’m not sure they’ll pass her information on to you.”
“Maybe not,” he said, giving it some thought. “Tell them to give her my contact information. Let them tell her that the owner of Davidoff Fashions would like to speak with her.”
“Very well,” Sharon said with a smile. “Consider it done.”
But even after she’d gone back to her office, leaving him to soak up the good news, Reed could not rid himself of one worrying thought.
As much as she intrigued him, why was he even bothering to track this girl down? In his situation it wasn’t like anything could ever come of it.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Oh, shoot,” Golden mumbled under her breath. She’d done it and there was no escaping the consequences. She knew she shouldn’t have gone in but she’d been desperate and now she was paying the price.
She’d gone to the agency office to collect the pay they’d called about and was surprised when she was told they had a message for her. Frowning in confusion, she took the envelope from the woman but she did not open it until she got back to her car. “Mr. Reed Davidoff of Davidoff Fashions requests that you contact him as soon as possible,” it read. “Please see telephone number below.” Her heart lurched. Reed Davidoff, the owner of the company. Dear Lord, she was in big trouble now.
This could only mean one thing. He was planning to have her head for destroying his show. She drew in her breath then let it out slowly. What in the world was she going to do now?
But deep down she knew. Whether or not she was skewered and roasted by the great Reed Davidoff himself she would not duck out of this meeting. She was at fault so she would go in and apologize and do whatever it took to make things right...not that there was much she could do. The deed was done and the show was over. But still, she had to try...
That afternoon, as instructed, Golden called Reed Davidoff’s office, holding her breath while the phone rang. She sagged in relief when she heard a woman’s voice on the other end of the line.
The woman thanked her for calling then set up an appointment for her to come in to see Mr. Davidoff the very next day.
“So soon?” Golden blurted out. “I mean, I’m flexible. I’m sure Mr. Davidoff is very busy. I can come later this week or even next week if that’s better for him.”
“No, no,” the woman said, dismissing her offer. “Tomorrow is perfect. Please be here by three.” Then she hung up and that was that.
Next day Golden dressed carefully, putting on her best suit, the one she saved for job interviews. It was navy blue with a knee-length skirt and a jacket that sat just atop her hips. She made sure to put on stockings before sliding her feet into black leather pumps.
The clothes taken care of, Golden turned to look at herself in the mirror. Now what was she to do about make-up? The truth was she owned very little, just lip gloss and rose-pink lipstick. She didn’t even have foundation. She bit her lip, pondering if she should slip into her mother’s room and borrow some of hers.
Then she shook her head. Why was she trying to impress this man, anyway? It wasn’t like he was considering her for a job. Once he’d given her a piece of his mind he’d probably throw her out of there so fast it would make her head spin. No, she would go as she’d always gone – devoid of embellishment except for her lips. It made no sense to try to be who she was not.
That afternoon, Golden drove to the office of Davidoff Fashions in Canary Wharf. She was early but she didn’t mind. She needed the few extra minutes to gather her wits about her. She had no idea what this Davidoff person was like but the fact that he’d decided not to let her blunder slide but had summoned her to his office meant that he must be a real beast.
She could just picture him. An old goat sporting bushy eyebrows just like her stepfather, with beady eyes and a snarl he used to bully all his employees. Well, she wasn’t going to let him bully her. Just let him try it.
Golden waited until exactly two fifty-five and then she got out of her car and headed for the impressive building that housed Davidoff Fashions. Bank Street was home to the head offices of several big businesses so even though she knew next to nothing about the fashion industry or Davidoff Fashions she could tell they were major. There was no way you could be small fry and maintain offices at this location.
Feeling a little overwhelmed she pushed the door open and entered, the beat of her heart increasing pace with her every step. Walking up to the reception desk she clutched her handbag in front of her and cleared her throat. To her surprise the woman seated there greeted her with a friendly smile. “Yes? May I help you?”
“I’m Golden Browne,” she said quietly. “I’m here to see Mr. Davidoff.”
The woman nodded. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes. For three o’clock.”
The woman gave her another smile. “Right on time.” She pressed a button on her desk. “Ms. Browne’s here for her appointment with Mr. Davidoff.”
A voice crackled in the speaker. “Send her right up, please.”
She directed Golden to the elevators and then she was on her own. “Well, here goes nothing,” she whispered and stepped inside then closed the doors behind her.
When she got to the top floor of the building she stepped into an office suite that must have been designed by Juan Montoya himself. The style was open and comfortable but so sophisticated. The colors and textures reminded her nature. She didn’t get the chance to fully admire it, though. A woman, tall and very fashionably dressed, was approaching.
“Welcome, Miss Browne,” she said and reached out to shake Golden’s hand. “I’m Sharon Crow. Mr. Davidoff is waiting for you. Please follow me.”
“Thank you.” It was a soft croak but that was all Golden could manage just then. She just wanted to get in there and get it over with. She followed Ms. Crow toward heavy-looking double doors where the woman tapped lightly then pulled them open. “Miss Browne to see you,” she announced then stepped in and stood to one side, beckoning for Golden to enter.
Tentatively she walked in expecting to see the monster behind his desk, a terrifying scowl on his whiskered face. Instead, Golden found herself face to face with a startlingly handsome man with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes. And, to her astonishment, he was smiling at her.
“Miss Browne,” he said, coming forward to greet her. “Thank you for coming.”
“Th...thank you.” Thrown totally off course, Golden could only stare. Where was the brute who’d called her here so he could reprimand her for her stupid fumble? Was this man even Reed Davidoff? He didn’t look much older than she was.
Maybe this man was another assistant to the owner? Golden gave a furtive glance around but no, now that Ms. Crow was gone they were alone.
“M...Mr. Davidoff?” she asked just as he reached out a hand to her.
