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PROLOGUE
‘YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS, Ashling! I can see my nipples in this thing. And it feels far too...’
Dangerous? Exciting?
Cassandra James cut off the errant thought. The dress her flatmate and BFF Ashling Doyle had sourced for her to wear to an über-hip celebrity wedding in San Francisco, in exactly fourteen hours’ time, was not dangerous, or exciting, it was—well, frankly, it was indecent.
Her boss, Zachary Temple, had asked her to go to the wedding to check out Luke Broussard of Broussard Tech, in what Temple had referred to as ‘his natural habitat’, before kicking off a two-week trip to the West Coast to scope out investment prospects for Temple Corp in the buoyant US technology market.
As Temple’s trusted executive assistant, Cassie had done some of the groundwork before on his investment decisions—crunching numbers and rigorously fact-checking industry credentials when she wasn’t doing all the usual admin her job entailed... She enjoyed the rare chance to branch out, and she knew she’d impressed Temple with her work and her recommendations.
He’d given her this assignment after she’d voiced her concerns about Broussard’s background check. And it was a huge opportunity to stop being a glorified gopher and move up the corporate ladder. The only problem was that up till now she’d always worked in the comfort of Temple Corp’s HQ in London, not by attending a glittering society event an ocean away, full of super-cool people.
She hadn’t told Temple of her concerns when he’d given her the assignment out of the blue, because it would have made her look and feel pathetic. And it was only a wedding, for goodness’ sake.
Plus, she had been right to suggest Broussard might need closer inspection. She hadn’t been able to discover anything about his origins or his background online... It was almost as if the details had been deliberately erased. The extensive internet research she’d done on him had offered up a ton of glowing reviews on the stratospheric rise of his company from innovative start-up to global player in less than a decade, and a few furtively snapped paparazzi shots of Broussard himself with an assortment of beautiful women on his arm. But not a lot else...
Going to San Francisco to see if she could discover more about him in person made sense. And asking Ashling—who had a quirky eye for fashion and had always been the coolest person Cassie knew—to source a dress for the wedding had seemed like the perfect solution to calm any residual nerves...
But then Ashling had produced this glittering gold creation which clung intimately to every one of Cassie’s curves.
‘You can’t wear a bra with that dress, Cass,’ Ashling reiterated, standing at Cassie’s shoulder. ‘It’ll ruin the shape.’ She stepped back, the sparkle in her blue eyes taking on an assessing gleam. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Seriously, Ash? I can feel my boobs swaying.’ Cassie placed her hands on her breasts for emphasis—and some much-needed support.
Ashling’s lips pursed into an adorable pout, which Cassie knew her friend could use like a lethal weapon—as she had so often when they were growing up together. As the daughter of their housekeeper, Ashling had quickly become Cassie’s ally and her best friend. Someone who could tempt her into the best adventures and out of the shell created by her father’s disapproval.
Cassie had always adored her childhood friend for her free spirit. But she was loving that free spirit a lot less at the moment. Because she did not have the time—or the talent—to find an alternative dress before the car arrived to take her to Heathrow.
‘If you wear a bra with that dress you’ll be committing a major fashion faux pas,’ Ashling said, still pouting—and totally missing the point. ‘This dress is perfect for a fancy celebrity wedding in San Francisco...’
Ashling paused as the colour flared in Cassie’s cheeks. And the anxiety Cassie had kept ruthlessly at bay ever since Temple had dropped his bombshell so casually about this trip threatened to strangle her.
‘Cass, what’s wrong?’ her friend said, her voice rich with concern.
‘Nothing,’
she said automatically. But then she breathed in. Damn. If she couldn’t tell Ashling how she really felt, who could she tell? ‘I just do not want to go to this thing.’
There—she’d said it.
‘Why?’ Ashling asked.
Cassie frowned. ‘Lavish social events aren’t my forte.’
She could still remember the time her father had asked her to host an important soirée when she was eighteen. It had felt like a test—a test she’d been desperate to pass and had comprehensively failed. He’d never asked her again.
‘And, anyway, Temple’s not sending me to socialise. He wants me to check out a tech entrepreneur called Luke Broussard while I’m at the wedding.’ Cassie stared at herself in the mirror again. ‘And this dress feels like too much.’
Ashling’s blue eyes softened, and the fierce solidarity Cassie had relied on so heavily throughout her childhood was ringing in her voice when her friend banded her arms around her waist and rested her chin on Cassie’s shoulder. ‘It’s not. It’s gorgeous. You look like a sex goddess. Which makes it the perfect dress to wear to conduct some industrial espionage. You’ll dazzle this Luke dude into giving up all his secrets while he’s ripping it off you in a passionate frenzy.’
Cassie gulped as she recalled the pictures of Luke Broussard which she’d pored over maybe a bit too forensically. A slightly hysterical laugh slipped out as she conjured up the far too vivid image of Luke Broussard’s large hands tearing glittering gold lamé.
‘“Passionate” is not what I’m looking for,’ she announced, as firmly as she could, while fighting to ignore the weight now sinking into her abdomen.
Good grief, trust Ashling to put that totally inappropriate thought into my head.
‘And this trip is not about industrial espionage. I’m just going to help Temple suss out some potential investment opportunities and I don’t want to mess it up. I need to blend in with the crowd,’ Cassie added, pretty sure that Ash’s dress choice was going to make her stick out like a sore thumb. Albeit a gold-plated one.
Ashling grinned and spread out her arms as if she were introducing Cassie to a crowd of admiring onlookers. ‘Then my work here is done.’
Cassie sent Ashling what she hoped was a stern look, but then her phone buzzed and her worries about the dress got hit by a more immediate problem as a message from her assistant Gwen popped up.
Cassie, so sorry, my back’s playing up. Won’t be able to do the tux pick-up today.
Cassie swore softly under her breath.
‘What is it?’ Ash asked.
Cassie lifted her head to find her friend sending her a quizzical look. ‘Ash, could you do me a humungous favour?’
