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“No. Listen, as I understand it, you need a fiancée until you can contest the terms of your father’s will…and I just lost a small fortune in my divorce. I think we can help each other.”
This time he paused for a long time. So long that Stella thought that he’d hung up. He finally asked her, “Are you offering your services to me?”
That’s a strange way to put it. “I guess,” she said. “I’ll pretend to be your fiancée for a fee. You pay my bills; I’ll help you stay paid.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s talk about it over dinner. Are you free this evening?”
She heard Stoney in her head remarking about her empty schedule. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
Richard
ThecallfromStellacame while he was having breakfast. He’d been contemplating buying a new dining room table. One that wasn’t so big. Eleanor had wanted the table. She kept going on about big dinner parties and maybe having a bunch of children sit around the table. Now that all that was done, he was stuck with a big decorated table that he only used one corner of.
She was the last person he ever expected to hear from. Having only met once and that one time being terrible, he thought that he was more than likely never going to see her again if he could help it.
Back when Stoney was his personal assistant, he used to talk about it only in small spurts. Like a casual mention here or there. What he knew of her was so limited that he barely even registered Stoney as having a sister outside of knowing the basic demographics… Like that she was his twin and that she worked across town as a secretary at a doctor’s office.
So, when she called, he couldn’t believe his luck and he also found it hard to believe that she actually wanted to work with him. It almost sounded too good to be true. But if there was a chance that he could stall this whole thing, he had to take it.
He’d been contemplating hiring someone anyway. A call girl was the most likely solution…though he doubted that he could find anyone that would fool the lawyers or his stepmother. He imagined the first sign of body glitter and the whole thing would go up in flames.
But as far as he could tell, Stella was an ordinary woman. Pretty enough for him to conceivably be interested in someone like her, but not so flashy as to be thought of as a hooker. It was almost too perfect.
He went through his day like normal. Going into the office and handling business while his Rebecca hovered around like a harbinger. At one point, she came into her office under the guise of a social call, her eyes wandering around the office as if looking for something in particular.
“I was just wondering about this fiancée,” she said. “How long have you two been together.”
“Long enough,” was all he said.
“And yet, you don’t have any photos or anything--”
“Is there something you wanted, Rebecca?” he asked her. She shrugged and slunk back towards the door.
“No, I was just stopping through to see how you are. I’ve really got to go, anyway. Another meeting with estate attorneys. It just never ends, right?”
He just scowled at her with annoyance…then called up his own attorney to discuss paperwork before his business dinner with Stella.
By the time work was done and he was at home, getting showered and changed, he was more than ready to talk business. First things first, however. He needed to make sure that there were no witnesses. If Stella agreed to his terms, then he was going to need to make sure there were no leaks on his end. He had his cook prepare a meal, then sent him and the rest of the staff home early.
Before long, his doorbell was ringing, and it was time. He walked to the door and opened it.
Stella was standing on his doorstep wearing a beautiful blue strapless dress that was tight around her hourglass figure. Her long dark hair was up into a bun with tendrils coming down along the sides of her face. And her makeup was pristine. She smiled with ruby red lips that made Richard suddenly want to kiss.
He cleared his throat and stepped aside. “Good evening, Ms. Lively. Come in.”
She walked in and immediately looked around at the high ceiling of his foyer. “Wow,” she said, “You have a gorgeous house.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying not to look at her ass. “Dining room’s right this way.”
He led her into the dining room, trying to be polite and letting her walk ahead of him, yet trying to keep his eyes off her completely.
When they got to the dining room table, her eyes widened a little at the food waiting for them. He didn’t have anything special out. Just a roast with pomme frites along with some other side dishes that the chef thought would pair well. He walked over to the open wine bottle and asked, “Wine?”
“Sure,” she said. He poured the wine into her glass, then took his place at the table with her.
“This all looks really very good,” she said.
“Courtesy of my chef,” he said. “I sent him and the rest of the staff home.”
