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ChapterThree
David Blake was rich. Obviously, he came from a wealthy family, but the gorgeousness of his house surpassed even his parent’s old money. It was ostentatious enough to intimidate almost anyone. Almost.
Brickwork marked a large boundary around what could only be described as an estate, blocking off the press – how they’d known she was going to be there today was baffling. It wasn’t like she had someone watching her twenty-four-seven to tip them off.
Gone was her pink slip from yesterday evening’s tragic mimicry of a date. Instead, Rose was dressed for battle in a matching two-piece suit in a bright, vibrant red that matched the color of her lips. White heels complimented her white shirt and her blonde hair fell in heavy waves to the center of her back. She looked damned good, and she knew it. By the time she left this house, everyone else would know it too, thanks to the paparazzi skulking outside of the enormous black security gate that sat between the bricks. The world (including her parents) would know that she was here in no time, probably driving the gossip columns rabid as the most eligible bachelorette in Cincy visited its most eligible bachelor.
Cameras flashed as she stepped out of her car and Rose did her best to ignore them, even as reporters buzzed about, calling out questions about why she was there – though thankfully nobody approached. Often the clamor of lights and the sounds of several people all calling her name made her head spin, her stomach dipping at the prospect of facing the vultures until she remembered that she wasRose DuLoeand no damned reporter was going to make her hands shake. You couldn’t tell from looking at her that she’d been up late researchingHorizonsandDavid Blake, nor could you see the dread that was making its way through her. She’d lain in bed a full ten minutes after her alarm had gone off – unprecedented for her – just to delay this meeting a little longer.
She made it through the tight security at the front gate, bemused at the little security guard booth that allowed visitors to be buzzed through or turned away. Blake clearly took his safety seriously. Rose was pleased that they’d been expecting her but pissed that she didn’t have an excuse to go home, and then felt down-right despairing as she took in the long approach between the guard box and the entryway to Blake’s home, covered in swaths of unstable gravel. Why hadn’t they allowed her driver in? Her heels were going to be the death of her.
Rose flicked a glance back at the burly security guard and found him staring impassively at her, though his lips did twitch when she placed one heeled foot delicately onto the stones and wobbled. At this rate she was going to be late and knowing Blake, he’d likely lord it over her. Bastard.
Rose stepped out carefully onto the gravel and resolutely made her way down, jaw clenched and hands wide spread low at her side for some semblance of dignified balance.
It wasn’t lost on her that things had felt different between her and Blake when she’d seen him at dinner. He was as annoying as ever, but he’d grown more handsome too, which only heightened Rose’s irritation. Five years could change a lot, but David Blake was still a douchebag. Of that, she was certain.
She made it onto smoother paving without breaking an ankle and strode calmly over to the large white door and rang the bell. It was opened almost immediately by a friendly-looking red-headed girl. “Hi, I’m Rose DuLoe. I understand there’s a meeting here today?”
The girl looked slightly puzzled but opened the door fully and gestured her inside. “If you’ll follow me, Ms. DuLoe.”
Rose followed the girl, who identified herself as Lacy, through the bright white corridors of Blake’s impossibly large house. The place even had a ballroom that they’d be using for the gala. The wooden stairs seemed to wind on and on and the walls were bare but for large pieces of colorful art that seemed to add an open cheer to the place she hadn’t been expecting. Admittedly, she’d been expecting leather and lots of red velvet, maybe even strippers. Perhaps she’d misjudged David Blake. Or he had an excellent interior designer.God knows he could afford one.
Lacy led her through an open doorway into a room with plush cream carpets and a relatively small glass table, as well as a waiting David Blake.
“You’re late,” was his only greeting.
She rolled her eyes. “I was here on time, no thanks to the walk to the front door and endless staircases. Perhaps you should consider installing a lift. Maybe then your business associates would get here quicker.”
He seemed to ignore her sarcastic tone and scrubbed a thoughtful hand over a slight tracing of stubble. “Hmm, yes, maybe I could gut the second dining room and convert that. Would that meet your expectations, princess?” He finally looked up from the tablet in his hands and his eyes appeared to get stuck somewhere around mid-thigh until they lowered to her high heels and he smirked. “You did surprisingly well in the driveway.”
Had he done that on purpose? It had definitely seemed odd to not let her driver in and instead make her walk the rest of the way. For what? To test her stubbornness against the uneven ground? So he could have a good laugh if the paparazzi had managed to get a photo of her falling on her ass from their places behind the gate? Or maybe he’d thought she would live up to her princess nickname and demand a car be brought around to drive her to the door. “You’re lucky I didn’t break my neck!”
Blake shrugged. “You look fine to me.”
“Is there a reason I had to walk when I’m presuming your clients are usually escorted to the door?” It definitely explained his housekeeper’s odd reaction. She had probably expected there to be a car.
“I wanted to see what you would do, princess,” he said simply, placing the tablet onto the table and relaxing into his chair with one leg bent on top of the other.
Bastard.She glared at him but otherwise resolved to ignore his words as she walked to the table and sank into a cushioned chair opposite him. Yet, as often happened whenever she was around David Blake, the words snuck free, her tongue refusing to be blunted for a mere moment in his presence. “I’m not twelve anymore, so don’t call me that. I suppose I should have expected you to be unprofessional, but I had hoped you might have grown up a little in the last five years.” Blake looked like he was trying not to laugh and it only stoked her temper further, her words clipped and short as she pulled out a notebook. “Let’s get on with this. Where’s everyone else? I thought we were having a meeting.”
“Oh,weare.” He cleared his throat lightly and blinked as he seemed to relax further, clearly not in any rush to get started. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Charming walk down memory lane?”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Sure, how about the time you convinced me Santa’s magic came from the brandy we set out for him every year and I ended up having my stomach pumped on Christmas day?”
Blake’s lip twitched, but he stifled any other traces of humor as he raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, can’t recall. How about the time I heroically rescued you from the sea?”
“Oh yeah, I mean, I don’t know who possibly could have left me out there alone to begin with,” Rose growled, crossing her arms over her chest and flushing when Blake’s gaze dropped half an inch. “Or how about the time you paid my date to stand me up before prom?”
A scowl rolled over Blake’s face, and she was surprised that out of everything she’d just saidthathad been the thing that got a reaction. “You didn’t hear what that little asshole was saying–” Blake pinched the bridge of his nose and let his foot fall to the ground with a smallthumpthat startled her. “Never mind. You were out of town before? What were you doing?”
“Things,” Rose said sharply. Discussing the past was one thing, encouraging chit chat about her present was another. “Tell me what you were going to say before.”
“No,” Blake said, blue eyes steady on hers as his jaw clenched, making one of the dimples in his cheek pop out. Rose’s teeth ground together and she bit her tongue, absolutely refusing to keep up this childish back and forth. She was here for a job, as a favor to her parents and Blake’s. Nothing more. The past needed to stay as just that.
When she stayed silent, Blake stroked a thoughtful hand over his jaw, like he was trying to conjure up new ways to torture her.
“What about Cara?” she asked, trying to steer them back onto less irritating topics.
