ONE NIGHT STAND (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) by Bella Grant (21)

SARA

 

The day I received the invitation to the Saunders Empire private ball started off as an ordinary day. I woke up as usual at six in the morning, made it to my job as a barista in a local coffee shop, ate my brown-bag lunch, made small talk with customers I couldn't really stand, returned to my tiny apartment to a sink filled with dirty plates, ordered my usual Chinese combination fried rice, and went through my mail.

 

As I sat eating my greasy dinner, I lazily glanced through the mail. Bills - people I owe and people who expect money from me, a couple of spam mails, and my Fashionette magazine, which came with a big pink sticker reminding me for the hundredth time that my subscription was ending and I could renew for a big discount. I tossed the magazine on a pile of magazines, and as I did, a golden envelope fell out from between the pages.

 

I cast a lazy glance at the envelope, trying to decide if I should get up from my cozy seat to pick it up or if I could do that the next day. Laziness got the better of me; if it was a bill, I couldn’t afford to pay it until I got my next pay check in two weeks, so what was the point of opening it?

 

I grabbed the remote control and flipped through several channels until I found some dumb horror movie - the one where a group of teenagers explore a haunted house and someone takes off to find out where a strange noise is coming from and inevitably gets killed. And of course, another teen followed to see if he's okay, and while the rest of them clamor together in one room, that teen is predictably killed. Slowly, they all disappeared until only one person escaped the house.

 

Around nine, I'd had enough of the crappy movie, so I decided to turn in for the night. I stepped over that golden envelope lying on the floor; my eyes darted to the return address. Saunders Empire. I picked up the envelope and opened it as I walked to my bedroom. The envelope and the paper it contained were certainly worth more than a day’s salary. It was rich and soft, and on the top was the monogram Saunders Empire. On the front was my name and address: Sara Nolles, 1245 North Main Street. 

 

Saunders Empire caused a loud bell to ring in my head. I had interned for one of the branches as an undergrad, but only briefly. I had applied for a job right after graduation, but they had kindly replied, in an envelope not as fancy as this one, that I was underqualified for the positions available, and they would contact me when a position I was qualified for opened.

 

I flipped the envelope over; it was sealed with a gold embossed wax in the shape of the Saunders Empires logo. Fancy, I smirked as I carefully broke the seal, my heart beating wildly. I hoped they had changed their minds and were offering me a job. I would certainly swallow my pride, dust off my bruised ego, and accept the job without question. I pulled a card out of the envelope.

 

What caught my eyes first was the gold lettering and gold borders on the card. The gold was probably real gold. My eyes focused on the words on the card.

 

Dear Ms. Sara Nolles,

It is my pleasure to invite you to the Saunders Empire private annual ball. As you are aware, this is an event for the most elite men and women in our country.

I enjoyed your company last time we met and hope you will join me again.

Your invitation package will be delivered within the next twenty hours. We eagerly await your response.

Sincerely,

Nick Saunders

 

I read the card over and over again, wondering what I was missing. Then I started picking apart the phrases. They must have made a mistake. For all the money and resources Saunders Empire had, they couldn't keep their guest list correct? Yeah, granted I had interned there, but how did I end up on their guest list? Did someone who knew me when I was there include me on the list?

 

Me, a part of the elite group of men and women? Elite men and women! Is that a joke? I can't even get a job with an elite man or woman, whatever the heck elite meant. I imagined elite meant "rich and stuck up," men who listed "playboy" as a hobby and women who hired maids to brush their hair and apply their makeup. This had to be a case of mistaken identity. Perhaps there was a Sara Nolles somewhere on their guest list and our names and address had crossed.

 

And what the heck did he mean by he had enjoyed my company? What exactly did the real Sara Nolles do for him? I only saw Nick Saunders once during my internship, and he had been presenting to a room full of his employees. He would never have noticed me tucked all the way in the back, and even if he had noticed me, I prided myself on not being the type of woman playboys like him dated – rich, skinny, obnoxious women. Nick’s reputation for having an insatiable appetite for women preceded him, and I did not want to be on his list.

 

I read the card again as I walked to my bed. I would call the next day and inform the company of their error. I was not elite, and the card was certainly not for this Sara Nolles.

 

 

NICK

Nick stared at the picture of the woman who had remained in his mind since the day she had served him coffee at a downtown coffee shop. She had looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where they had met because he knew nothing would have stopped him from making a move on her whenever they met.

 

She was one of those women he hated to admit were irresistible, the type he hated because they were too proud to admit their need of him and made the chase too hard. He had his private detective scoop her out once he’d left the coffee shop, and it hadn’t been hard to pin her down. Within hours, he knew everything he needed to know about her, including the fact that she had interned with him years ago. How had he missed her? So unlike him to let someone who looked like that get away without getting her into his infamous bed.

 

He flipped the pages of her file, re-reading her life for the millionth time. She had just been dumped by her boyfriend of four years and lived downtown in a dingy apartment. He had to get to her. Initially, he had planned to approach her straight, but he knew a woman like that was not one to be approached without a plan. Then he thought about using her friend to get to her, but that was cliché. Who still talked to girls through their friends? That was so last century.

 

He looked at her picture again, letting himself drown in her hazel eyes. Really pretty, definitely sexy face –a woman who stood out from all the girls he had dated– long, black, luscious curls that he wanted to get his hands into, lips so succulent he could only imagine kissing them until she moaned his name, and an attitude bigger than her delicate though curvy frame. She had to be his. No other way around it.

 

When she had served him coffee without an ounce of recognition, he knew she was going to be hard to get.

 

“Hello, welcome to Pixies,” she had said. “How may I help you?”

 

“Coffee.”

 

“What type of coffee, sir? We have several different varieties.” Her hazel eyes had stared into his, and in that moment, there had been an instant attraction. Her eyes never left his gaze, and he was not one to back down from a woman.

 

“What would you recommend?” he asked, momentarily forgetting that he only drank dark espresso.

 

“Well, how do you like your coffee? Sweet, strong, dark?” she asked, her gaze still on him.

 

Sweet would be awesome, he thought. Sweet like her lips? His eyes had moved to her lips but found their way back to her eyes. She was certainly beautiful, and if he had to guess her age, maybe twenty-three? Twenty-five? Maybe she was too young for his thirty years of age. He should probably back down while he could.

 

“I’ll take whatever you recommend,” he had told her and hoped he didn’t regret it. It was only coffee, after all. No harm could be done.

 

“Sure. You look like someone who likes it dark and strong,” she said, a faint smile curving her lips.

 

Nick looked at her, trying to determine if she was serious. From the glint in her eyes, he could tell she was teasing him. This would have been the perfect time to invite her to dinner or coffee or whatever, but he didn’t do it. She would turn him down. She looked like one of those women who liked the thrill of being chased but never really gave in to a man. He didn’t want to give her the upper hand, at least not yet.

 

“Very perceptive,” he had replied, smiling at her.

 

“No, just served enough coffee to know what my customers might like,” she said flatly.

 

Sharp tongue, certainly; she had a smart mouth. “So how did you guess I like it dark and strong?” He could have turned on the charm and gotten her to his side, but she didn’t look at all interested in him.

 

“Your watch. A man’s watch says a lot about him.”

 

He looked at his Rolex. Damn. She was indeed cautious. “Oh yeah?”

 

“Yes. I can tell you like it dark and strong, because you’re sort of the bossy type.”

 

“You’re right again,” he had told her but didn’t justify himself. Yes, he liked his coffee strong, and he could be quite bossy. Demanding was the word his closest staff used. Yes, he could be demanding and pushy, but that had shaped him into one of the most powerful and richest men in the country. He had no apologies for that. If anything, it was his privilege.

 

When she returned with his coffee, she had asked with a faint smile on her face, “Is that all you’ll be wanting today, sir? May I get you a bagel, perhaps?”

 

He had been taken aback by her calling him sir, but when he looked at her, she was still smiling, teasing. “Not today, thanks. But may I invite you to dinner?”

 

She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “I don’t date customers.”

 

“How about I don’t buy the coffee. Then I won’t be a customer,” Nick had joked, but the joke didn’t go down well.

 

“No, sir. Not interested. Here’s your coffee.” She had almost pushed the coffee into his hands. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a line behind you.”

 

Nick didn’t look behind him. What did it matter? The world usually waited on him hand and foot, and the line behind him was no exception to the rule. He smiled at her again and handed her a twenty, but she rejected it.

 

“It’s on the house. But please don’t ask me out again. The answer will always be no,” she had informed him before waving him off so she could help the next customer.

 

Nick had gone to the side of the café to nurse his drink and his pride. How dare she dismiss him? Did she not have a clue who he was? In situations where he felt slighted, he would have usually told off the girl and stormed out. Childish, yes, but being rich meant he could get away with some dumb shit sometimes. This time, though, he had wanted the girl and would swallow his pride to get her into his bed, even if only once.

 

He had not felt the need to inform her who he was but had quietly sat in the corner of the café and watched her until it became rude. She never gave him a second glance, but within that short span of time as he observed her, he had learned so much about her, more than the private detective could ever tell him. He saw the way she brushed a loose stand of hair out of her face again and again. That alone told him she was a little messy and rather quick-witted; otherwise she would simply redo her ponytail.

 

The way she smiled at her co-workers told him she had a good heart, but she didn’t look like someone who could be taken for granted. His observation told him she would be hard to get but worth the chase, and he was up to it. If she had smiled at him or encouraged him, he would have gone up to her and invited her to dinner again, or given her his card and told her to call him at her convenience. At such times, most girls would take a brief look at the card and recognition would hit them, and they would suddenly become putty in his hands. Not this one.

 

He had hung around the café for a while, and as soon as he left, he had called his private investigator to get more information about her.

 

Twenty-four hours later, he was holding her entire life in a file in his hands. He pulled out a picture of her and smiled. She would never be anyone’s puppy. Even the way she posed confidently in the picture told him the only time she would ever bark would be in the bedroom. Or maybe purr. Whatever. And if he wanted her in his bed, he had to do something about it. Get her into his space. Maybe get her to the annual ball where he could woo her with kindness and luxury. It didn’t take him long to decide to invite her to his company’s annual ball.

 

When he first came up with the plan, he was so sure she would call him and tell him he had the wrong Sara Nolles, in which case he would have explained to her that she was welcome to come since she already had the card. He had been waiting all day for her to call him, but his phone had yet to ring. Either she hadn’t seen the card yet or had decided to ignore it, but he was hoping she would have at least acknowledged the receipt of the card. Either way, he was going to move ahead with the next stage in the plan with the solid assumption that she would come out of curiosity.

 

 

SARA

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the doorbell ringing. I ran to the door, expecting to see my best friend from kindergarten, Amy, who always showed up at odd hours at my house. She usually unlocked the door with the spare key she had, but sometimes she rang the doorbell first just in case I was in some compromising situation with a non-existent man. It didn't matter these days because I didn't have a boyfriend, so the worst thing that could happen if she opened the door without warning would be to see me naked. That she had seen a million times over the twenty years of our friendship.

 

I didn't bother putting my robe on. Only when I opened the door did I realize that I was practically naked, having slept in just a tee-shirt. But it was too late to close the door. I stood self-consciously in front of a delivery man who handed me a gold box. He looked at me for a few seconds, probably taking note of my nipples, which had hardened against my tee-shirt in the draft of cold air from the opened door.

 

"Good morning, Ms. Nolles?" he asked, looking around like he was lost.

 

"Yes, I’m Ms. Nolles." I looked at his badge, which had the Saunders Empire logo and his name. "Hello, David.”

 

He also looked down at his badge and smiled at me. "Ms. Sara Nolles?" he asked again as if to ascertain he was in the right place and I was the right person.

 

"Yes, I'm Sara Nolles," I replied again.

 

"I trust you received your personal invitation from Mr. Saunders?"

 

"Yes..." I said, unsure why he was asking. “But there seems to be a mix up.”

 

"I can’t speak for the mix up, ma’am. You may have to call the company directly. I’m here to deliver a follow-up from the card. This is from Mr. Saunders," he said, handing me the box.

 

Before I could say a word, he had turned away. "No wait, David. I don’t think you have the right Sara Nolles. I mean, I did get a card yesterday in the mail, but I think …”

 

"If you got a card, ma'am, then this box is for you. My instructions were to deliver this to you at this address and confirm you received a card yesterday."

 

"Yes," I said, still unsure.

 

"I suggest you call the RSVP number on that card if you have any questions." He offered a faint smile.

 

"Sure. I will. Thank you,” I said. I sighed and took the box inside. It was a decently sized box but didn't weigh much. Wrapped in a pretty bow, the box smelled nice as if it had a built-in fragrance. I set it on my living room table and slumped onto the couch.

 

The box looked tempting and I bet it contained some goodies. But it wasn't mine. It was addressed to me, but I was the wrong Sara Nolles. The most sensible thing to do was return the box to Saunders Empire on Monday or call the number on the card and ask them to pick it up and send it to the right owner. I thought of the million reasons I shouldn't open the box - then I thought of one reason why I should. I had never been given a gift box from a man, not to mention a billionaire. Surely whatever he had sent would be amazing; I felt justified to open the box since it had my name on it.

 

Once I convinced myself it was okay, I didn't waste another minute. I quickly untied the shiny bow embossed with the Saunders Empire logo. I took a deep breath and opened up the box.

 

"Wow!" I exclaimed, shocked. The doorbell rang before I could process what was inside the box.

 

I knew it was Amy because, before I could get up, the key was already turning and she was yelling. "Sara, I'm coming in!"

 

Shit. I didn't have time to hide the box, and I really didn't want Amy to see it. She was my best friend and I loved her to death, but if she saw it, the chances of me returning the box to the right owner would end. Amy was the only person who knew how to make me live on the edge and take chances. Some days, I needed that push, but this time, I needed privacy. I tried to cover the box, but she was by my side in a few steps.

 

"Hey, what's that?" she asked as she sat next to me and took the top off.

 

"Good morning, Amy," I sighed. "I was just about to figure it out."

 

Amy didn't speak as she lifted a jewelry box, which had been carefully placed in the center of the box. I tried to take it from her, but she pushed my hands away and opened it.

 

"Is this shit real?" she asked as the glare of the morning light coming in my tiny window shone on a necklace set with shiny stones.

 

"I guess," I answered with a shrug, taking the box from her and feeling the stones. They looked like diamonds. Big, chunky diamonds set into a necklace.

 

"No way this is cubic zirconium. Is this from Jim?"

"You know Jim and I broke up," I said.

 

"Oh yeah, the asshole.”

 

I didn't care to revisit my experience when I caught my then boyfriend messing around with his coworker in the printer room. He had dumped me like I had cheated on him. He had claimed he was in love with the girl and wanted to marry her. Since I was no longer in love with him, it didn't hurt as much as it could have. I had simply wished them luck and moved on.

 

"Sorry," Amy said, realizing her joke wasn't all that funny. “I shouldn’t talk bad about your ex.”

 

“That’s fine,” I mumbled. “He was an asshole.”

 

"So who would send you this necklace? Who are you fucking?”

 

“Amy!”

 

“Just asking. Men don’t buy jewelry for women without wanting more from them. It's absolutely gorgeous, by the way. You should try it on."

 

"I can’t try it on. It's not mine."

 

Amy looked at the cover of the box. "Says Sara Nolles here."

 

I nodded but didn’t explain it was probably the wrong Sara Nolles. Instead, I reached into the box and found a gold envelope. I tried to hide it from Amy, who was busy admiring the necklace. But she saw it and snatched it out of my hands.

 

"I swear, I’ll be so mad if you're dating someone and refused to tell me," she smirked as she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a card.

 

"Give it to me, Amy," I said, trying to take it from her, but she playfully pushed me aside, and using one hand, she pinned me to the chair while she extended the hand that held the card.

 

"Sara. It will be my pleasure if you wear this to the ball. I hope we can complete our unfinished business," she read aloud. "Eagerly waiting for you, Nick."

 

Amy handed the card to me and stood up, hands akimbo. "Who is Nick? Why didn't you tell me you were dating someone? I thought we shared secrets. All secrets. Eagerly waiting for you? What unfinished business?”

 

"Amy, it's a misunderstanding. That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"Is that a real diamond necklace?" she asked, her eyes returning to the necklace which lay on the counter.

 

"Yes. It's from Nick Saunders."

 

"Nick Saunders? Billionaire playboy Nick Saunders?"

 

"Yes," I said softly, too tired to defend myself.

 

"Are you sleeping with that asshole and didn't tell me?"

 

"What? Of course not. I've never even met him!"

 

"So why is he sending you gifts? Why is he talking about unfinished business?"

 

"Because I think he thinks I'm some other Sara," I told her as I walked over to the side table on my bed where the card from the day before was lying. I picked it up and handed it to Amy.

 

"What's that?" She eyed me as she took the card and read it.

 

"It came in the mail yesterday. I think my address must have been mixed up with someone else's," I said as I sat next to her.

 

"A private ball? Are you going?"

 

"No. I am going to call that number on the card on Monday and ask them to pick up the necklace and card, and deliver them to the right person."

 

"What are you saying?"

 

"I'm saying this package is not mine and the right Sara may be expecting it. I mean, if I get caught with this, I could be in big trouble."

 

"Sara! Listen to yourself. Are you even thinking? You're broke. Stuck in a one-room tiny studio that barely gives you space to move around. You're working as a minimum wage barista and you can barely afford your graduate school fees. And goodness knows how many people you owe and how much you have in the bank right now."

 

"Ten dollars," I murmured, smiling, but Amy’s lecture wasn’t over.

 

"This necklace is yours and you are going to that ball."

 

"Heck no. I'm not going anywhere near Nick Saunders. You think he won't know I'm the wrong Sara? What if the right Sara shows up? I could get arrested and lose my job. I can't, Amy. Doesn't even make sense. Going to an elite ball is out of the question. I won't even know how to act or what to do. And all those people probably know each other, so I'll stick out like a sore thumb.”

 

"Sara, this could be an opportunity of a lifetime."

 

"No. Besides, you know that guy is an asshole. He changes women like you would underwear.”

 

“My kind of man.”

 

“Come on, Amy. Be serious for once.”

 

"I am. You might meet some of the richest men in the world."

 

"And their snobbish, Barbie-doll wives," I said.

 

"Ignore the women. They've got nothing on you with all your curves," Amy said with a smile.

 

"Amy, this doesn't sound right. Besides, I don't have the right dress or shoes. I can't even differentiate between a dinner fork and a salad fork. How do you expect me to fit in? It's not going to work." My arguments were weak. Once Amy had her heart set on something, she wouldn't let up until she reached a reasonable conclusion. Right now, she was focused on making me attend that ball; I was fighting a losing battle.

 

"Oh, don't worry about shoes and clothes. With a body and face like yours, you could easily wear rags and still look way better than all those women in million-dollar dresses. I'm sure we'll find something elegant. Your dress is on me if you promise to go in there and make great contacts for both of us. I want to be at that ball next year.”

 

"I don't know, Amy. It's just so wrong to impersonate someone else."

 

But Amy wasn't listening to me. She was done with the conversation and was heading to my kitchen in search of breakfast. I looked at the necklace once more, touching the solid stones. I was tempted to try it on, but I knew once I put it on, there was no going back. I would have to go to the ball. I closed the jewelry box and put it back in the gold box. What had I gotten myself into? Or rather, whose idea was this cruel joke?

 

 

NICK

When David, his personal chauffeur cum assistant, returned from Sara’s house and informed him that she had almost refused his invitation, Nick wanted to call her and end the secrecy. He knew her number by heart. There were so few numbers he bothered to memorize; hers was one of them. He envisioned a time when he could call her as often as he pleased and she would purr into the phone, lovingly. Not yet though.

If she managed to contact him in any way and realized he was the same man who had asked her out at the coffee shop a few days ago, she would flat out refuse the necklace and the invitation. At least if she was in possession of the necklace, she would most likely feel a moral obligation to return the necklace to him at the ball. But as the week went by, every hour became a slow second, and he needed to see her again, even if it was just to provoke her anger. He loved the way those fiery, hazel eyes lit up when she’d been mad at him the first time he’d met her at the coffee shop.

He loved how she had ignored him while he sat there, yet stole glances at him as she went about her business. Yes, she had done a good job of ignoring him and keeping to herself, but he could sense that an opportunity existed for him to break down her barriers if he got the chance to get closer to her. Getting closer to her was the operative phrase, and he could do it in so many ways - see her at the coffee shop again and try to be less of a demanding asshole or wait until she showed up at the ball and introduce himself properly.

The rational side of him told him to leave things alone and wait for her at the ball, which was only a week away. At the ball, he would pretend like the invitation and the coffee shop meeting were not connected. He knew she would call him out, but he hoped she would find it charming when he told her he really wanted to see her and had used the invitation as an excuse. It was really best to leave things alone lest he stir things up so much she caught on to who he was and flatly refused to honor his invitation.

As he sat in his expansive office overlooking all of Manhattan, he tried to give himself several reasons why staying away from her was the best thing, but he failed woefully. He needed her. Even if it was for just one lunch hour.

“Bev,” he called to his secretary via the intercom as he rose from his chair. “Please have David pull the car around in five minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Bev, his secretary of ten years, answered. “Going to lunch?”

“Yes,” he said. “Please cancel all my meetings until two.”

“Should I make a reservation for you somewhere?” she asked. “Your favorite restaurant?”

“No. I think I’m in the mood for something local,” he said.

“Sure thing, sir,” Bev said, a hesitation to her voice.

He put on his jacket, which had been hanging on his chair, and right before he made it out of his office, he switched his Rolex for a simpler watch. Sara wasn’t impressed by wealth, which was why she hadn’t recognized him. The Rolex made him stand out too much, and with Sara, he didn’t need to stand out. He needed her to stand out. In less than a minute Nick was out of his office and walking toward Bev, a pretty blonde.

“You should take lunch soon,” he said to her, smiling as he passed her.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t need a reservation for lunch?”

“Not today,” he said, waving at her as he got in the elevator. The poor woman was probably confused. He always had reservations for lunch. Some of the restaurants held standing reservations and some she had to call ahead right before he got there so they had his seat waiting.

But where he was going for lunch today needed no reservation. He was sure of it. When he got downstairs, David was standing next to the car, waiting to open the door of the limo for him.

“Where are we going, sir?” he asked.

“That coffee shop on the side corner of L and Penn Street,” he said.

“The one where Sara Nolles works?” David asked.

“Yes,” Nick answered. Typically, his business was his business. He did not share his business with his staff, but David had been with him too long to keep his affairs secret. David picked up his women and took them back. He had seen him go through a million relationships and witnessed them all fall apart.

“She’s nice,” David volunteered. “I think she’s a good choice, sir.”

“Yes, she is,” Nick said with a smile. “But I know she’s going to be a tough one.”

“Not for you, sir,” David answered, smiling.

Nick’s smile widened. David was right. He had never had difficulties getting women, and Sara Nolles was not going to be the first. He had to admit, though, there was something different about Sara, but he couldn’t quite figure it out yet. He just knew she was different – sharp-tongued, pretty, demanding, and ignorant of his status and how much money he had. It suited him just fine.

He closed his eyes as the limo drove through town, taking him closer to the girl of his dreams. She was passionate, that he could tell. Just the fire in her eyes alone was enough to tell him she would be a piece of work in bed, someone he might not be able to handle. A ball of fire. But he was open to challenges, and if Sara Nolles wanted a challenge, he would bring it.

They arrived at the coffee shop quickly, and he asked David to stay in the limo. No need to tip off Sara since she had already met David.

Nick entered the coffee shop. Normally he would have felt out of place, but he felt completely at home as his eyes scanned the room for Sara. She was nowhere to be found.

“Welcome to Pixies. How can I help you?” an elderly woman called out to him, drawing his attention to her. He walked up to her with a smile.

“Hello. What is your lunch special?” he asked.

“Combination fried chicken rice with some cabbage,” she said, pointing to a bowl of greasy food which Nick would never eat even if his life depended on it. He had to draw the line somewhere.

“Can I just get a sandwich please? A grilled chicken. Lettuce, tomatoes, mayo, and ketchup will be fine,” he ordered. No point in asking for organic stuff.

“Sure,” the woman said. “Twelve dollars.”

He pulled out a wad of notes from his pocket and handed her a hundred-dollar bill. “Please keep the change,” he said.

The woman looked at him, and her eyes lit up. “You sure?”

“Yes, if you can tell me where Sara Nolles is.”

Her countenance changed, and she pushed the money back to him. “I’m not selling Sara out for ninety dollars. What do you want with her?” she asked suspiciously.

Nick contemplated the best way to tell the woman about Sara without making a big deal of it or embarrassing Sara. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I met her a few days ago. Here. I just wanted to catch up with her.”

She leaned in close. “You know, she’s a lovely girl, Sara is. And her boyfriend just left her.”

“Yes,” Nick replied, not sure why her words would be important to him, but he let her keep talking. He already knew about the boyfriend who had cheated on her.

“If you like her, please don’t hurt her,” she said, then pulled away from him.

“No, nothing like that. I just want to say hello to her.”

The woman looked at the clock on the wall. “She should be here any minute, probably before your chicken is done. I’ll send her to bring your food to you. Just to let you know, she’s like a daughter to me, so I’ll be watching you.”

“Of course. Thank you so much,” Nick said to the woman, but she had gone back to her work.

He moved to a chair next to a window. Like the woman predicted, Sara arrived soon after. He saw her walk in wearing her black and white uniform. Only a woman with Sara’s curves and eyes could make a simple waitress uniform look sexy. She didn’t see him, which worked best for him, but he couldn’t hide for too long.

“Hello, Sara,” he said.

She looked like she was going to ask him how he knew her name, but she looked at her tag and smiled ever so slightly. Nick was glad she hadn’t asked because he would have had to lie to her again. He wasn’t going to admit to her that he had someone check out her entire life and that he knew everything there was to know about her, even the fact that she had a cat named Pussy Bow when she was a kid. That would freak her out and destroy whatever chances he had of getting close to her. Even being in her presence before the ball was probably a bad idea. She would most likely recoil when she saw him at the ball if he left her with a bad experience.

“I’ve seen you recently,” she said as she put the plate on the table.

Oh good, Nick thought. She was being nicer today, but he didn’t push it. “Coffee? Dark and strong?” Nick suggested, smiling.

“Oh yeah, the Rolex guy,” she said, smiling in return. She looked at his wrist.

“Not today,” he told her as he pulled up his sleeve and showed her the watch he wore today, which was equally expensive but one he could bet she didn’t know. His gamble paid off; she did not recognize the watch.

“I see you’re keeping it simple today.”

“Yes,” Nick said with a smile. “Simple can be best.”

“Unless you’re riding in the limo parked across the street.” She pointed outside the window and Nick had no choice but to look at the limo. Thankfully, it was a regular black limo and the windows were dark. She wouldn’t be able to recognize David unless he chose to step out of the limo at that instant.

“Work.”

“What sort of work do you do that requires a limo and a Rolex?” she asked curiously.

“Real estate,” Nick said, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions. He didn’t lie about his work, but he didn’t want to reveal too much. This visit was not going according to his plan. He had planned to come in and say hello to her just to see her, then leave. He didn’t want her to ask questions that could lead her to suspect the card he sent her was not a mistake. He needed to gain control of the situation. “Investment real estate.”

“That sounds interesting. Would you like some ketchup with your sandwich?” And just like that she had lost interest in him.

“No, this is fine,” Nick replied, cursing himself for showing up at her work place. Now he had given her something else to hold against him. Clearly she didn’t care about his money, or maybe she just didn’t like him. There was no way for him to know, and he didn’t want to hang around any longer and make things worse. And actually, he did like ketchup on his sandwich, but he wasn’t going to ask her for anything, except maybe a way to get out of there really fast.

“Well, enjoy your lunch. I hope it’s to your satisfaction.” She was finished with him and was departing when he called her back.

“Excuse me, Sara. May I get a take-away plate?” he asked. “I have to be somewhere.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll wrap it up for you then,” she replied after a moment of hesitation. She stepped back, took the plate, and walked away. She returned quickly with his food nicely packaged in a Styrofoam plate in a plastic bag.

“I put some ketchup on the side. I have a feeling you like ketchup,” she said as she handed the bag to him. She had a little more than a hint of a smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Nick said as he slipped her a few hundred dollar bills as a tip when she wasn’t looking. He didn’t look back to see her reaction as he walked to the door. He would see her in a few days. No need to push any more buttons.

 

 

SARA

When the man left, I went back to wipe the table and pick up the tip I had seen him leave. In as much as I didn’t want a tip from him since I hadn’t done much, my salary was minimal and I had to make up my earnings with tips. I assumed he had left a couple of dollars, and even though it wouldn’t do much for me, it could at least add to my savings for gas money that week. I picked up the loose change and the cash. Five hundred dollars!

 

My first instinct was to run after him and return the money because it had to be a mistake. He must have meant to drop five singles and had inadvertently left five hundred-dollar bills. I looked up, but he was already out the door. I ran out to catch him.

 

“Excuse me,” I called, but he didn’t hear me with the distractions and noise of the busy street. “Hey, Mister!” I called even louder, but he had already crossed the busy street.

 

I tried to follow him, but a bus slowed right in front of me. I waited for the bus to come to a complete stop so I could navigate around it, but I was too late. Before I could get to the other side of the road, his sleek limousine had pulled out.

 

I looked at the money in my hands, wondering how I could return it to him, but a thought hit my mind. The money wasn’t a mistake. The man wore a Rolex and had a limo. He probably had meant to tip me the exorbitant amount, which I was not opposed to. What I would be opposed to was if his rich ass came back wanting more from me. I debated what to do with it. It was legitimately mine; I had earned it as part of my privileges of serving Mr. Rich. Even though I thought it was way too much, I decided to accept it. My rent was due and the money would go a long way to subsidizing it. And even if I didn’t have impending rent, I had a party to go to.

 

Amy had promised to shop for me, but I couldn’t leave everything up to her. I needed to pay for some stuff myself. I took a second look at where his limo had been parked, which had been quickly replaced by two cars. It was almost as if he hadn’t been there. I whispered a thank you to no one in particular, pocketed the money, and went back to work.

 

Throughout the rest of my work day, my mind remained on the stranger and how deeply he had looked into my eyes with his dark brown, sexy eyes like he could see the depths of my soul. I smiled as I remembered the way his lips had curved into a slight smile when he spoke. I bet those lips tasted like sugar, no honey. He had to taste like honey. Men like him didn’t taste any less sweet.

 

I needed to get a grip on myself. I almost poured coffee on a client while lost in my imagination. Mr. Rich had distracted me like no one else had. I got through the day like clockwork - smiling at customers, taking orders, serving food, cleaning up after them. Each time the door opened, I looked up in anticipation, expecting Mr. Rich to come through the door, but I was disappointed every time.

 

By the time evening rolled around, I was a hot mess. All I wanted to do was get home and sleep him off. I was probably never going to see him again anyways.

I didn’t have to work the next day, and though I would have liked a chance to go in just in case he showed up again, common sense told me a man like that had more to do with his weekends than come to a deli chasing after a waitress, if that was what he was truly doing.

 

After tossing around on the bed for a few hours and getting nowhere with my day, I decided to get up, shower, and take a walk. My walk didn’t clear my head like I hoped it would. Thoughts of Mr. Rich kept playing like a movie. After a few miles, I gave up and walked home, put my PJs back on, and got back into bed. I had more important problems than my raging hormones to worry about. I had yet to solve the problem of what to do about the stupid elite ball I had no business going to. Funny how I could still be influenced by peer pressure even as an adult!

 

I lay on my bed twiddling with the pre-invitation, or was it a save-the-date card? I knew better than to let Amy's crazy decisions override my common sense. It didn't make sense to dress up, wear a necklace that wasn't for me, and attend a party I wasn't technically invited to. Alarms might go off as I stepped into the building. Nick Saunders could rip the necklace off my neck and call the cops on me.

 

If I ever had a chance of working for his empire, impersonating someone else at his ball would destroy it. Saunders owned most of the city, so if I ever wanted a decent job in this town, the sensible thing to do was place that call and return everything to the right Sara.

 

Unless I wanted to work at the coffee shop until my hair turned gray.  

 

I grabbed my cell phone and punched the numbers on the card but hesitated to push the "talk" button. I stared at the phone until it timed out, then I did it again. What if Amy was right? All the good breaks I've had in life were due to Amy's input. She helped me get accepted into the college of my dreams and obtain a scholarship that covered most of my expenses. I still had to get student loans, but it would have been worse without the scholarships. She encouraged me to apply for jobs that I would never have had the courage to consider. Unfortunately, due to the economy souring, I wasn't able to get the job of my dreams with Saunders. So she had gotten me a job at the coffee shop while we looked for other jobs.

 

What was the worst that could happen if I did go to the ball? It wasn't my fault I got an invitation card addressed to me. If Nick Saunders got mad, I would simply return the necklace, apologize, and let myself out. Maybe if they needed a waitress, I could volunteer to help and earn some extra money while I was there.

 

Common sense, which had been escaping me more often recently, demanded that I call and inform them I had been accidentally invited. I punched the numbers on the phone again and pressed send. It rang a few times and went to a voicemail.

 

"This is Nick Saunders. Please leave a message."

 

Shit! The number was Nick's personal cell phone? The real Sara Nolles must be important enough to have direct access to him. I quickly hung up the phone as the beep sounded to leave a message. I was not going to leave a message for the richest man in town. What would I say to him? Hi Nick, you invited me to a party and sent me this lovely necklace, but I can't go and I can't wear it because I'm not the real Sara Nolles. But my friend Amy thinks I should go, so I wanted to make sure it was okay with you.

 

Okay, that sounded dumb. Real Sara Nolles? When did I become the fake Sara? Maybe if I dialed again and just said that I got an invitation by error and wanted to get a return address? That sounded more reasonable and more adult.

 

I picked up the phone again and punched the number for the millionth time. What if he picked up? Was I ready to talk to him? Rich men frightened me. Maybe all that money and fame rubbed me the wrong way. I wasn't going to call him. I'll just drop by one of their offices on Monday and drop off the card with a note. I could ask him to have someone call me to arrange to pick up the necklace so I made sure it got back to him. I couldn't imagine how expensive the necklace was and how much trouble I could be in if I lost it.

 

With my decision firmly made, I got out of bed and put on some shorts and a tee. It was still early enough to go for another walk or even run a mile or two. As I laced my sneakers, strapped on my running watch, and cranked up the music on my headphones, I knew I had made a good decision regarding the party.

 

When I returned from my run, three miles and thirty minutes later, Amy was sitting in my apartment. I swear the way she showed up at my apartment as she pleased, it's hard to imagine she didn't live there.

 

"Running away from home?" I asked as I opened my door and found her sprawled on my bed flipping through the latest copy of Fashionette magazine. "Blueberry pancakes," I murmured as the familiar smell of her delicious pancakes hit my nose. Amy was the cook between the two of us. I always opted for carry-out and didn't think twice about ordering food for every meal. 

 

"Vanilla blueberry pancakes," she corrected. "You didn't have any sausage or bacon."

 

"Maybe because I hardly cook," I pointed out. “And maybe because I’m not a big meat person.”

 

"Maybe you should cook once in a while," she said as she got out of the bed and walked to the tiny kitchen. “And maybe you should buy sausage.”

 

"Amy, you know I can cook very well. I just choose not to cook,” I reminded her, slightly irritated, which was useless because it really never bothered Amy when I got mad at her.

 

"Sure you can cook. When was the last time you cooked? Fifth grade?" 

 

"Third maybe," I said, laughing. "I'll take a quick shower and be right out."

 

"Hurry up so the food doesn't get too cold!” she yelled as I disappeared in the shower.

 

"Yes, ma'am!" I called as I closed the bathroom door. In less than ten minutes, I was dressed in sweats and sitting with Amy. 

 

"So why are you here so early?" I asked between forkfuls of food. 

 

"We're going shopping," Amy said dryly.

 

"For what?" I asked. I was really short of money and shopping was not on my list of things to do. “I don’t need anything at the mall right now.”

 

"What do you mean?” she asked, slightly irritated. “Of course you need to go to the mall.”

 

“What do I need at the mall?” I asked.

 

“Your ball gown, idiot! The party is a week away and you have nothing to wear."

 

"Oh, a dress. Amy, you know I can't go. You know it doesn't make sense. It's sort of crazy and…” But even as I protested, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.

 

First off, I really did want to go to the ball. I wanted to see how the rich folks lived. And secondly, it had crossed my mind that Mr. Rich may be there. A guy who wore expensive watches, rode in limos, and dropped five hundred dollar tips certainly had to be on the guest list. Even though I hated to admit it, I was curious about him. I wanted to know his name or at least get to know him just a tad bit more.

 

"We're leaving in ten minutes. My treat. I already arranged for a personal shopper to help us,” Amy said, cutting into my thoughts.

 

Amy was very good at persuasion, which was why she was taking the LSATs in preparation for law school. I wondered how much more deadly she might get when she actually became a real lawyer.

 

"But you know I can't afford that with what I earn, even with tips." For a second, I was tempted to tell Amy about Mr. Rich, but she was already doing enough damage to me by coercing me to go to the ball. If she knew about him, she would make me hook up with him after a lesson on how rich men love me and how I would fit in nicely with the elite.

 

"I told you it was on me. Your food is getting cold." She pointed to the fork that held a piece of pancake that had been making its way to my mouth for over five minutes. “You will go to that ball and you will look fabulous.”

 

I sighed as I put the pancake in my mouth. Sometimes I truly hated Amy!

 

 

NICK

Nick stretched and grabbed his phone, which had been lying next to him. He hadn't heard the phone go off while deep in sleep. Some days, he slept so deeply even an earthquake wouldn't wake him up, a by-product of being overworked most days, which is why he played hard when he wasn’t working hard. But being rich required more than just giving instructions to his staff; he had to be hands-on, which required his time and energy.

His phone was beeping with a missed call. He clicked on the missed call and instantly recognized the number. He had started to dial that number several times but had hesitated, knowing a call would blow his cover. If he called her back, it would be hard to pretend he hadn’t met her. Even though he wanted to get her to the ball, he had to be careful so he didn’t lie to her. Besides, there was something to be said about getting a girl to give him her number herself. It was all part of winning at the wooing game. If he called girls without their permission, the game would be lost. And he never lost.

He looked at her number flashing on his phone screen again and fought the urge to dial her digits. He wasn’t going to call her and that was final.

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out the file he had on her. Some would call him a stalker, a pervert, but in his world where money ruled, he was simply researching someone he was interested in. He opened the file for the millionth time since receiving it from his private investigator and pulled out a picture of her. Her curvy body made him want to know a little bit more about her. That was how he had felt the first time he’d seen her, and that was how he felt now. His private investigator had been quick to scope her out and sent him every bit of information under the sun about her. He re-read a couple of the pages on her –excellent SAT scores, class valedictorian in college, finance grad school student– yes, she was intelligent and sexy with a smart mouth. His type of woman.

He pulled out his phone again and checked his messages, but she apparently hadn’t left one for him. He knew what she wanted to talk about. She obviously had no idea who he was and being invited to an exclusive ball, to her, must have seemed like an error. He guessed she was probably going to refuse the invitation and would most likely return the necklace. But he didn't want that. He wanted her to come. And he wanted to make her comfortable, hence his hesitation in sending a dress to wear for the event like he normally would for his female guest. He could pretty much guess her size, but that could freak her out.

He had already made the mistake of personalizing the invitation card and the gift box card, which was most likely freaking her out. He couldn't risk a situation where she became so uncomfortable she simply did not show up. He truly wanted to be in her presence again, but within his own controlled environment. It was much easier to make a woman his when he was in control.

He flipped through the pages of the file and another picture of her fell to the floor. He picked it up. It was his favorite. She had been out on a morning run. He could see her curves - her breasts held tightly but spilling from within what he assumed was her sports bra, and her firm ass rounded against the shorts she wore. Her legs caught in the running motion seemed all muscle. She was wearing an arm band and had ear phones on. She seemed oblivious to the world - so innocent and pure.

He continued flipping through the file, a little slower than he did the files of the people who worked directly under him. Damn, she had applied for a job in his company a few years ago, but his staff had been assholes and declined application for employment. If he weren't being subtle, he would have fired the employee who hadn’t given her a chance to be an asset to his company. He flipped through a couple more pages. Nothing in there was new to him; he had perused it a few hundred times. But one thing that unsettled him was that she had spent eight weeks as an intern with his company and he had never set eyes on her. He had been gallivanting around Europe with his girlfriend, Amanda, who had readily left him when she found someone a tad bit richer than him.

He looked at his phone again, debating whether to call her back. He wasn't really sure what to say to her. If he spoke to her, he would be forced to answer questions that could clue her in to who he was. He decided the best thing to do was ignore any calls she made to that number, letting them all go to the voicemail. Giving her the number was already a mistake he regretted, but if he hadn't put a number on the invitation she might not have taken the invitation seriously. He sighed, got up from his bed, and walked to the window.

Acres of green, lush land lay in front of him. He wasn’t sure how many acres of land he truly owned. He had simply purchased all the land around where he wanted to build his home and erected what some would call an expensive house on it. He had a tennis court, a swimming pool, a golf course, but most importantly, acres of forest. He needed the wooded land for those moments when he wanted to be with nature but couldn't get away to his private island. During those times, he normally gave most of his staff the day off, and locked down his property. The beauty of having money is that he could do whatever he pleased, and when he needed privacy, he could have his whole estate to himself, and maybe in Sara’s company, if he played his cards right.

Today, though, the peace surrounding him was not as tranquil as usual. To be honest, since he’d met Sara, he woke up every day with a feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on. This day was no different. In fact, the feeling had been getting worse since he’d sent that invitation to her. He had personally written and mailed it to make sure it didn't get lost. He couldn't even remember the last time he wrote something by hand. Normally, his personal assistant took care of things like that – things like responding to his girlfriends’ emails, or sending gifts, flowers, and cards. He gave his secretary a budget, and she'd pick out the gifts and send them to the women. He trusted her judgment and the women always seemed to like their gifts, so it was a win-win for everyone.

Nick paced his room for a few minutes, fighting the urge to call Sara and confess. On days like this he wanted to lock down his property for utmost privacy, but he couldn't because his younger sister, Zia, who worked with him, would arrive at any moment to go over the final plans for the ball.

 

 

SARA

I unwillingly followed Amy as she stopped in every dress store in the mall. Three hours into our shopping experience, and I had yet to find something that looked like what I would wear to an exclusive ball. Or rather, most of what I would want to wear was super expensive, and the cheaper dresses just looked plain cheap after looking at the expensive dresses. Amy was more than eager to whip out her credit card to pay for any dress I wanted since I planned to spend my tip money on rent, but I couldn’t let her spend so much on me. I pretended I didn’t care for the really nice dresses.

“Heck, Sara. I didn’t know you were this hard to please!” Amy complained as she sat on a bench in the food court of the mall. “I’m exhausted.”

“I haven’t seen anything we can afford…I mean, I like,” I told her as I sat next to her.

“Sara, I know you well. You are never picky about anything. Why now?” she sighed, her exhaustion in her voice.

I started to tell her the truth but thought better of it. How could I tell her that I had spent the last few nights dreaming about the billionaire I met at the deli, getting hot and bothered by thoughts of him and what I could do to him if we ever got together? How could I tell her that I was planning a future with a man I didn’t know instead of researching Nick Saunders to find out more about him before showing up at his ball?

“Can you please find a dress you like so we can look for shoes?” Amy begged.

“I’m trying. But I want to look really nice,” I whined. “And it has to be at a reasonable price.”

“By nice you mean sexy?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” I said. “Doesn’t really have to be sexy, but sexy would be nice.”

“I knew it! You do want to meet Nick Saunders! You slut.”

“Shh…keep your voice down, Amy,” I said as I spied a woman with three kids walking quickly past us. “People can hear you and it’s not like he’s a nobody.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“I bet you do,” I smiled at Amy.

“So do you want to see his picture?” she volunteered as she pulled out her phone and started surfing the web.

“That is not a good idea,” I said. What I wanted to say was that I was terrified to see what he looked like. The likelihood that I would back out of the ball was higher if I saw Nick Saunders. I could imagine him all high and mighty with intimidating eyes. I was not going to go through with the stupid plan of gatecrashing a party if I saw what he looked like.

“You want to be surprised,” Amy said, laughing.

“Maybe so. I just don’t want to get to know him like that or I won’t go to this event at all. Besides, his voice is intimidating enough.”

“You spoke to Nick Saunders? Did you tell him about the error? Please tell me you didn’t because I’ll kill you if you did.”

“I called him.”

“What!”

“Relax. I didn’t leave a message. I mean, I called the number on the card. It was his private cell phone, so I froze up. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Good thing you didn’t make a fool of yourself! That man dates rich-ass girls. He’s probably used to girls who have gone to etiquette schools or whatever.”

I didn’t speak. She was right. He was used to polished girls, and I was nowhere near polished. Then again, she could be wrong. Mr. Rich from the deli didn’t seem to care if I was polished.

“The most I know about etiquette was from my Girl Scout experiences. How am I going to pull this off?”

“By being you,” Amy said, then continued scrolling on her phone. “So I’ve been checking out your date online.”

“He’s not my date,” I said.

“Well, he’s my computer screensaver. He’s that cute.”

“Eww…Amy! What is wrong with you? Maybe you should go to this ball.”

“Maybe. But I’m not as elegant as you, Sara, and I couldn’t pull it off.”

Amy, with all her confidence and assertiveness, had a way of putting herself down that I didn’t really like. But everyone had their faults and that was hers.

“You know that’s not true, Amy,” I said, turning to hug her. “If you went to the ball, you’d knock the pants off Nick Saunders, so yes, maybe you shouldn’t go.”

Amy smiled. “He’s really cute. Better than you’d ever imagine. Brown, sexy eyes that can see through you. Strong and powerful, but also very arrogant.”

“Sounds like your guy.” I was being sarcastic, but I was still laughing. I had no interest in getting to know him anymore, but my remarks opened up the flood gates for Amy. She began to recount every detail she read online about Nick Saunders. I heard about his business shrewdness, his playboy hobby, his million girlfriends, his favorite food, his workout regimen, and other countless details she remembered.

“He sounds like God sent him as a gift to women,” I said dryly when she finally ran out of breath.

“Gosh, Sara. You’re the only girl in the world who could be so lukewarm about dating a billionaire.”

“I’m not dating him. The real Sara Nolles is. I’m the fake one, remember?”

“Fake or not fake, you’re the Sara who’s going to be there. Make the best of it.”

“Yeah,” I said, unsure. I was tired of talking about Nick Saunders. “Can we please go find me a nice dress and get some lunch? I’m Nicked out.”

Thirty minutes later, we found the perfect dress, a red strapless that framed my waist and flattered my curvy hips. Red was a color I would never have thought of wearing, but with Amy’s persuasion, I tried it on and knew it was the one. If I dared to wear the necklace, it would be perfect. I glanced at the dressing mirror as I played with taking my hair up and out of the way. I looked good. Really good. With a nice pair of shoes and decent makeup, I’d pass for more than the maid. I might actually look elite and all that. A couple more rounds at the stores and we were able to find some silver, sleek but comfortable heels and a matching silver bag.

 

 

NICK

The doorbell woke Nick up the next morning at seven. Normally, he wouldn’t have been the one opening the door, but given the fact that he had given most of his staff the day off, he had to get out of bed. Besides he knew only one person in the world who would wake him up that early – Zia. He walked down the stairs slowly, half-dressed, his head clouded with thoughts of Sara. The doorbell persisted and he took the stairs two at a time.

“Geez, Zia. What the hell?” he asked as he opened the door to let his sister in. She looked perfectly groomed for that early in the morning – a pink pants suit and heels, and makeup as well.

“Good morning, brother,” Zia said, smiling wildly and pushing past him into the foyer. “Did I wake you up?”

“What do you think? Why can’t I ever sleep around here?” Nick asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Sleep is overrated. Besides, if you had a permanent woman, you wouldn’t be sleeping now, you’d be fucking her.”

“Oh my God, Zia, you’re so filthy. How do men ever date you with that mouth?” Nick asked with a smile. “You’re worse than me, and I know women find me vulgar sometimes.”

“You, vulgar? Maybe in bed, but you’re hardly the big bad wolf,” Zia said as she kissed her brother on the cheek and pushed past him. “Get over yourself.”

“Zia, you do know I’m a grown man, right? You may be the older one, but that doesn’t give you the right to barge into my house whenever you want.”

“Come on, bro, chill. It’s not like you have a woman upstairs. Or do you?” She looked past him, pretending to look for someone upstairs. “I don’t see anyone, so I guess you’re by yourself again.”

“Zia, you do know what privacy means, right? It’s something I deserve and something you have to work on giving me,” Nick said.

“Sure, I will. Right after I go over some paperwork with you. Why the soreness anyways?” She dropped her bag on a nearby table and sank into a couch. “Are you going to sit with me or what?”

“Well, can I put on some clothes first? As you can see, I’m half-naked,” Nick said, rubbing his eyes again and pointing to the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on.

“Eww. Please go put on a shirt. I don’t want to see all that,” Zia said. “You should go to the gym more often.”

“Are you jealous?” Nick grinned, trying to flex his muscles. “I guess your men don’t look this good.”

“You wish. Nick, you’ve got nothing on my men. Pity how those girls you hang out with don’t see you’re not all that. I guess money does talk.”

Nick smirked at her and flexed his muscles again. “You’re simply jealous.”

“Whatever. Please put on a shirt and stop acting like your God’s gift to women. I’ll be waiting down here. Make it fast. I have a date waiting for me.”

“In your dreams,” Nick said, giggling as he went back to his room to change into some day clothes. A few minutes later, he came down with some sweats and a tee-shirt on.

“Much better, bro,” she said. “Now, can we talk some business?”

“This early?” Nick said, frowning. “Can’t it wait until later?”

“Why would I be here this morning? Booty call?”

“Ewww, Zia. That’s so disgusting,” Nick said, wrinkling his nose.

“Exactly. It is disgusting. Can we focus on business? I have a date.”

“Sure, if you say so,” Nick teased. “I wonder who the unlucky man is.”

“Nick Saunders! You better watch your mouth. I can still whoop your ass, you know,” Zia said as she hit her brother playfully on the chest. “Can we please discuss the preservation and the ball?”

“She said please! The mighty Zia said please,” Nick grinned. “Sure.”

“Seriously, Nick. You’re full of it. But luckily for you, I have business on my mind,” Zia said as she pulled some papers from her bag and laid them on the table. The atmosphere turned from jovial to serious as Zia shuffled papers.

“I really wish we could maintain the preservation without this ball. It is stressful,” Nick said.

“Yes, it can be, but it’s a good way to get everyone who is someone to care about something bigger than themselves,” Zia said.

“Did you reach out to the state again? Maybe they might be interested in acquiring the property?” Nick said.

“I’ve already been in touch with everyone that matters, and the general consensus is that if the state gets the land, we might as well say bye bye to that land the way God intended it to be. The state will turn it into a mall.”

“Sad,” Nick said. “Well, a mall is not going to work. We might as well keep doing things the way we’ve done them for years.”

“That’s the plan,” she said as she pulled binders out of her bag, each binder color-coded. She was incredibly organized when it came to financial matters. Anything else just fell by the wayside for her. He chuckled as he imagined what kind of life she would have had as a homemaker thousands of years ago.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, not wishing to get into an argument with her. She always claimed that if she ever had to make a home, she’d be just fine.

“I think we can find ways of reducing expenses next year so we don’t have to depend so heavily on donors,” Zia said after a moment of silence. “I don’t know how much longer our donors will be this generous, especially if they have nothing to gain from it. At a point, we might need to reconsider our options.”

Nick didn’t say a word. He knew what she was referring to. They had discussed letting go of the preservation that had been part of the family for centuries. But Nick would never let that happen, and Zia knew his opinion of it but occasionally still pushed it. The preservation, which was a few thousand acres, was tucked away in the Shenandoah valleys of Virginia. It had been in their family for years, just like Saunders Empire had been a family legacy from his great-grandfather. A few years ago, the man they had trusted with managing the preservation embezzled the money they had entrusted in his care, and as such, they ran a risk of running down the preservation.

This was their third year raising funds by leveraging their contacts and marketing the fundraising as a way to preserve nature for generations to come. The people on his guest list usually had so much money to donate they didn’t even care to know where the preservation was located.

Now Sara was on his guest list, and he didn’t want to tell his sister that she might not be getting ten million from her.

In that instant, Nick felt bad. He hadn’t thought what inviting Sara meant to the preservation he cared so much to protect. The dinner was strictly for twenty people who always gave them at least ten million dollars. They didn’t always have the same guest list every year because they didn’t want people feeling bothered about donating, but each of them was responsible for inviting ten guests guaranteed to give a hefty donation.

When he had invited Sara, all he cared about was seeing her again and being in her company. He hadn’t given her ability to donate much thought. Sara was going to cost him ten million without knowing it. He didn’t mind paying her donation in secret, but if Zia found out, she’d eat him alive. Nick knew enough not to get on Zia’s bad side. She would bite his head off, even in public.

“Oh, I’m looking through your guest list, and I recognize most of the names, except this one.” Zia pointed to a name on the list.

He didn’t have to look to know who she meant, but he wanted to play it safe until she said something. “Who?”

“Sara Nolles?”

“Yes, Sara. She’ll be a good donor. I met her some time ago. I think she’s someone we want on our side.”

Zia looked at Nick in a way that told him she knew he was lying, but she didn’t press it. That was the other good thing about Zia; she knew when to back down and Nick loved her even more for that. Zia let the topic drop and moved on to the rest of her agenda.

After discussing a few more details about the ball –food, flowers, seating, agenda– things that Nick didn’t care much about, Zia announced she was ready to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” Nick said.

“Hopefully you’ll be able to concentrate better,” Zia said, winking at him.

“What do you mean?” Nick asked. “The fact that I don’t care what roses we use for decoration doesn’t mean I’m inattentive.”

“That has nothing to do with anything, Nick. I know you very well. I dare say maybe there’s a girl on your mind,” Zia said.

“Well, maybe you need to mind your business,” he said, smiling at her.

“You’re getting defensive. You always get this way when you’re after a girl you can’t have.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“You know exactly what I’m saying. Whatever girl you got on your mind is screwing with it. You barely heard half of what I said now. You need to fuck this girl and get over with it so I can plan this ball.”

“Zia!”

Zia had already risen and was heading to the door. Nick walked behind her again, letting his little sister take the lead as always.

 

 

SARA

The rest of the week dragged on, and Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. I went to work every day, hoping Mr. Rich would show up, but he never did, to my disappointment. Maybe I should have been nicer to him. He truly seemed to be a decent guy, even with his Rolex and limo.

In the evening after work, I played dress up, trying on my dress a million times. It was still as perfect as the first time I’d tried it on. My shoes fit perfectly even though they were a tad bit too high and sexy for me. And the diamond necklace looked fabulous with it. Sadly, I knew I couldn’t wear it. It was one thing accepting someone else’s invitation, but I could not accept someone else’s present. I would simply return the box to Mr. Saunders on Saturday and thank him for inviting me to the ball. And if the real Sara Nolles showed up, I’d slip away.

As the week slowly rolled by, my interest in Nick Saunders was piqued, and I picked up little titbits about him from Amy. I didn’t look him up online because I didn’t want to be intimidated. After all, he was only one of the richest and sexiest men on earth. I imagined he only dated skinny, sexy women, something I was proudly not. As the thought of dating crossed my mind, I blushed and admonished myself. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even friends. He didn’t know me. I didn’t know him. This was all just a miscommunication.

Finally, Friday night came, and as expected, Amy was ringing my doorbell as soon as I settled in with my Chinese takeout.

“Hi, Amy. The ball is not until tomorrow, you know,” I said as I opened the door before she could use her key. I knew Amy too well. She was probably too excited to wait for Saturday.

“Oh, but I want to sleep over so we can talk about all the things you can expect tomorrow.”

“Amy, it’s just a ball and I most likely will be kicked out before I even get in.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” she said as she settled in comfortably next to me and picked up one of the paper takeaway bowls and scooped some of my fried rice into it. “How can you eat this crap?” she said as she took the first bite and almost spit it out.

“I love their food,” I said as I chewed on a piece of broccoli. I had ordered chicken and broccoli with fried rice for dinner.

“Enjoy,” she said as she went to the kitchen. Minutes later, she appeared with a sandwich.

“You know my kitchen better than I do,” I teased. “I had no idea I had the ingredients to make a sandwich.”

“You don’t,” Amy said dryly. “This is the most pathetic sandwich I’ve eaten in a while. No mayo, no ketchup. Do you ever go grocery shopping?”

“That’s what you’re here for.” I shrugged my shoulders, picked up the remote control, and started flipping through channels. Amy took it away from me and turned off the television.

“We need to talk about tomorrow,” Amy said, and without waiting for my response, she started talking about what she thought tomorrow would be like. I grunted my responses, mostly tuning her out because I was really tired of discussing it. The only reason I wanted to go to the ball was to see if I could speak briefly with Mr. Saunders about a chance to work for his company. If he met me face-to-face, he would see that I have enough experience to be an excellent addition to his staff. Amy was still talking when I dozed off.

When I woke the next morning, Amy was lying next to me, snoring softly. I had no idea how I got to my bed, but Amy must have gotten me into bed after I fell asleep on the couch. I smiled and covered her partially exposed body with the comforter.

Saturday was finally here, and I was gatecrashing a party. I quietly got out of bed so I didn't wake Amy. I needed some quiet before her yapping restarted. But I wasn't quiet enough; Amy woke up as soon as I moved from the bed.

"It's Saturday," she yawned. “Finally.”

"I know," I said, turning around to smile at her. Yes, it was Saturday and I was going to make a total fool of myself.

"Are you excited?"

"Sort of," I said. I was kind of excited to be going somewhere. The closest I'd come to a man since breaking up with Jim was Mr. Rich, and that didn’t qualify as an interaction. I’d hardly given him the time and energy. Now I was heading off to see a billionaire who was probably as cocky as Mr. Rich. At least Nick Saunders sounded more polished and seemed to know how to treat a woman.

“Sort of? You should be ecstatic,” Amy said, jumping out of bed.

I don’t know where she gets her energy, but Amy could be a fireball sometimes. I didn’t have the energy for her that morning. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced as I slipped off to the bathroom. By the time I got out of the shower, Amy was cooking breakfast.

"You honestly, truly love cooking," I said as I towel-dried my hair. Amy was making miracles with the bare essentials I had.

"Not really, but we can't eat junk food all the time."

I smiled at Amy. Years ago, when we were roommates, Amy had always done the cooking while I did the eating. I still loved eating and would throw down a good meal any day, no questions asked. My curves needed to be fed.

"Besides, it's fun to cook for someone who actually likes food. Justin's so picky I barely make anything he likes."

"Justin is not human," I teased. Amy's longtime boyfriend was the only man I've ever met who ate the bare minimum to survive. To be fair to him, he had a whole host of food allergies, so the poor thing could hardly eat anything that didn't cause him to break out in hives or just plain get sick.

"Hey. Leave my boyfriend alone. At least I have one. All you have is that stuffed bear over there.”

I looked at Winky, my stuffed teddy bear, laying on the bed. I didn't see anything wrong with having a stuffed animal that reminded me of home. I may be an adult, but I still missed home occasionally, and Winky was my childhood teddy.

"Now you're starting a war," I said as I let my towel fall to the floor and pulled on a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. Amy glanced briefly at me as I dressed and continued cooking. It was funny how comfortable we were with each other's bodies, so much so that I had no problem undressing and dressing in front of her.

"Nick’s in for a treat," Amy said as she glanced at me again. “You look really curvy.”

"Curvy? You mean fatter?" I asked, pulling up my tee-shirt in front of the mirror. I loved my curves, but I didn't want anyone calling my fat. Fat meant I was slacking on exercise, which meant being unhealthy. I was curvy, not unhealthy.

"Relax, girl, you look curvy and hot. I wish I had your body," she sighed as she looked at her body.

Amy was as lanky as a stick, and even though she ate much more than I could, she didn't gain an ounce of weight. Back in high school, the teachers thought she was bulimic and had made her get a doctor's note to prove otherwise, which I’d always thought was inappropriate.

"You look great, Amy," I said. What else could I to say? The poor thing had been on so many fattening diets but nothing worked. Her doctors had explained that her metabolism was simply super-charged.

"That's what you always say," Amy said, smiling as she brought a plate of food to the coffee table.

"I had that in my fridge?" I asked, looking suspiciously at the plate of bacon, sausage, eggs, and waffles.

"Not a fat chance. Went to grocery after you slept off yesterday.”

"I see," I said as I started digging into the food, piling up my plate and drizzling maple syrup over the waffles.

"Someone's hungry," she said, laughing.

"Well, I better eat well now because I may be spending the rest of my life in prison for identity theft."

"Okay, you need to drop this impersonation thing. If I took the card and wore the necklace and showed up as Sara Nolles, that's impersonation. If Sara Nolles showed up as Sara Nolles, that's accepting an invitation."

"Right, but only if the right Sara Nolles shows up."

Amy reached out and grabbed the card, which was lying next to her on the couch. She made an exaggerated effort of looking at the card while she made faces. I couldn't help laughing as I saw her face contour into many shapes as she pretended to carefully examine the card.

"All I see here is a card addressed to Sara Nolles. Sara Nolles is sitting in front of me. Everything matches up. Now, let's talk about how the rest of the day is going to go.”

I looked at her and saw a sly smile curving her lips. She was on a mission to get me to the ball, and I had lost the battle. I had to concede.

"What is the plan?" I asked, dreading her list of things for me to do before the actual event.

"Hair, nails, makeup. I made appointments for you at the spa."

"But..."

"No buts. It's all on me, Sara. You always take care of me. Please allow me to enjoy spoiling you.” I nodded, unsure how to respond. "Your food is getting cold," Amy reminded me.

I picked up my fork and continued eating my meal. "So, what time is our appointment?" I asked between chewing my food. Before she could answer, my cell phone rang. My first thought was that it was Nick, calling to claim his invitation and pick up his necklace. Or maybe it was his staff, who had just realized their error. Or maybe the real Sara Nolles had appeared at Nick's estate, I'm sure he had one, and was upset about not getting her invitation and gift.

"Are you going to get it?" Amy asked, looking at me and glancing casually at the phone which lay next to me on the table.

"I was going to let it go to voicemail," I said weakly. I read the caller id. "Besides, it's a blocked number. It's probably just a telemarketer and I don't want to deal with that right now."

"Bull shit, sister! You're scared it might be Nick Saunders," she said, laughing. "I'll answer then."

"Heck no," I said, reaching out to keep my phone away from her. But before I could touch the phone, she picked it up. I grunted. This girl was going to be the death of me.

"Hello, Sara Nolles’ phone," Amy said in a professional voice I hadn’t known she possessed. In spite of my fear, I giggled. Whoever was on the other line must think I was this ultra-rich, "elite" girl who had a personal assistant to answer her cell phone.

Whoever was on the other line said something and Amy looked at me, giving me a thumbs up. I raised my hands, shrugging my shoulder.

"Yes, she will be attending," Amy said and winked at me. She sounded so sure of herself I couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, this is Amy, her personal assistant. I'll let her know."

I glanced quizzically at her. So it was someone from the Saunders Empire calling me. And she was my personal assistant? She was setting me up for failure. Now Nick would think I was wealthy when I didn’t have more than a few hundred dollars to my name.

"She will be ready," Amy replied to whatever the other person said. “Yes, I’ll make sure she knows.” After a few more back and forth talks, Amy hung up. "Gosh, girl. If you don't go to this party, I will."

"Why, what did they say?" I acted cool and uninterested, but I was dying to know what the man or woman on the other end had told her. "Was that Nick?"

"So now you want to know? I thought you didn't care about the party or Nick Saunders. And when did he become Nick to you?" She wore that mischievous smile I hated on her face.

"Amy, if you don't tell me what that phone call was about, I will throw you out of my house."

"You mean your tiny studio apartment? If I leave, I'll be leaving with my food," she said and made a show of packing up the unfinished breakfast.

"Amy, come on. I need to know what that was all about."

"Okay. Just promise not to freak out." I nodded. "So Nick Saunders is sending a limo to pick you up at seven this evening."

"No, no. He can't do that."

"What do you mean he can't do that? That's probably what they do for all their guests attending the ball."

"Amy, their guests are the richest folks in this part of the world. I would think they'd all be flying to the ball in their private jets."

"You’re funny. Anyway, the man on the phone was some sort of party planner finalizing things. He wanted to know if you wanted the driver to bring some designer dresses and shoes for you and wanted to know your sizes.”

"What?"

"I told them not to bother. You may be broke, but I'm not letting some asshole think you need his handout dresses. You have a lovely dress and you'll be wearing that tonight. I picked it out and I know it’s perfect.

"So now he's an asshole?" I giggled.

"I never said he wasn't."

 

 

NICK

Saturday morning arrived rather too quickly for Nick. He had spent all week making final arrangements with Zia for the party. He had worked on coordinating the rest of his plans to get Sara to come to the party even though some of the plans were cancelled - like the dozen roses he had wanted to send her but canceled when he realized that could make her overly cautious.

That morning as he gazed at his property from his bedroom window, it looked so different. It had looked like a golf course, and now it looked like a wedding reception site. Between the chairs, tents, flowers, and all the staff wandering around adding the final touches, it looked like someone was about to get married. But that's how it always seemed with these parties. All the hustling and bustling was worth it, though, to preserve their preservation. He saw Zia, dressed in a short dress, holding a clipboard and shouting instructions to the crew. He smiled. Zia always had things under control.

He hated having to dress up and tolerate old men and their catty wives for hours on end. But there was something about today that made him feel differently. Sara Nolles. She had never called to cancel her invitation. She had confirmed that she would ride in the limo sent to pick her up, which was good. She was going to be there.

He tried to remember her as she was in the cafe – beautiful and feisty. Now he was going to be within reach of her in a few hours. She was going to be in his home where he had privacy. Maybe she would let him near her. He had sensed at their first meeting that she was overly cautious, so he knew wooing her was going to be an uphill battle.

He took a shower, dressed in white linen pants and shirt and went outside to join Zia. Several of his staff greeted him as he passed them.

"Hey, Zia," he called, kissing his sister on both cheeks.

"What is this I hear about the limo picking some girl up for the party?"

Nick looked at her, wondering how to handle her. If he blew her off and she discovered Sara at the party, she could cause a scene. "Do you need the limo?"

"No, I have my own," she smirked. “You’re evading my question.”

"Why are you so concerned with what I'm doing with my limo?"

"Because you've never sent the limo to pick up a girl. Is she the one that's got you all flustered? The one I said to fuck and get over?”

Nick looked around and noticed some of his staff looking at them. They pretended to be working, but he knew they were listening. He didn't want rumors spreading about Sara before she even met him as Nick Saunders. And Zia using words like fuck, even though it didn’t bother him, sort of undermined Sara, and he desperately wanted to protect her reputation.

"Zia, people are paying attention," Nick said as he pulled her to the side.

"She's the one that's got you flustered, isn't she?"

"I like her," Nick finally admitted to his sister, his lip curled. “But she’s none of your business.”

"You don't sound too pleased. If you like her, you should look happier," Zia said, looking him up and down. “Besides, any girl that comes into your life is my business. And you should know that.”

"I’m not angry. Sometimes you can be so self-absorbed. You think everything is about you." Nick sighed, exasperated.

“It’s not all about me?” Zia said, laughing. “I’ve been delusional.”

“Z, you’re a piece of work. One day you’re going to really put your foot in your mouth.”

"But you’ll be around the corner to save my butt if that were to ever happen.”

"I can't do it forever, you know," Nick said. “Save your butt.”

"Whatever. So, who is she? Wait, don't tell me. She's that Sara somebody on our guest list, isn't she?"

Nick nodded. There was no point denying what his sister would find out in a couple of hours. What did it matter at that point anyway? Sara was coming and that's all that mattered.

"Have I met her?" Zia asked, more relaxed now.

"No."

"Where did you meet her?"

"It's a long story," Nick said.

"Well, lucky for you, I have time to listen to my brother tell me about the love of his life."

"It’s not like that. She doesn't even know me, at least not the way you think."

Zia looked at Nick. "Okay, Nick Saunders, you better start talking. You’re sending a limo to get some girl you don’t know. Start talking.”

"Maybe later."

"No, right now," Zia said as she pulled his hand and started walking to one of their private gazebos. “You need to tell me what is going on.”

Nick spent the next hour telling Zia how he met Sara and how he had sent her the diamond necklace.

"So she doesn't know the necklace and invitation are from the same guy in the café?”

"No."

"How do you suppose you'll connect with her today? Walk up to her and lay on the charm?”

"That's what I've always done."

"And it's worked for those sluts you've dated. This one sounds like a tough nut to crack. Wouldn't be surprised if she were a virgin."

Nick blushed at the thought of a virgin mate. Could Sara really be a virgin? Rob, his private investigator, hadn't mentioned that in his report, which was good. That would have been creepy.

Zia looked at him and started laughing. "You know what virgins are, right? I know you've never seen one."

Nick playfully smacked her hand. "Are you saying you're a slut?"

"Hey there, brother, watch your mouth," Zia said and looked around to make sure no one was looking at them. “Or I’ll take your virgin bride off the list.”

Nick looked at his sister and laughed. "You better not mess with her.”

"I take it Ms. Nolles will not be donating ten million at this event."

"Highly unlikely,” Nick said.

"You will be making a donation for her." It wasn't a question. It was a fact. Nick nodded. "That's coming out of your pocket money, Nick Saunders, not the company’s."

"Of course," Nick said. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He had already planned to make a donation on Sara’s behalf, except he hadn’t yet figured out how he could do it without embarrassing her.

"She better be one good piece of ass! Ten-million-dollar ass. And if she’s a skinny bitch, I swear, I'll disown you." Zia left her brother and went back to the party planning.

Nick smiled. From what he remembered of Sara, she was far from bony. Nick had always wanted a woman with extra meat, and Sara was curvy all right. He smiled at his sister, who had moved on to throwing out commands at the staff. He almost wanted to tell Zia to take a break and let the party planner they had hired take care of things, but he changed his mind when he saw the young woman who looked like she was straight out of college standing in the corner, shaking and probably wondering why she had been hired as a planner in the first place.

 

SARA

A few hours later, I felt like a princess. My black hair was pinned up with a couple of loose curls purposefully escaping the sides. My nails had been painted, and Amy was doing my makeup much better than I expected. Initially, she had hired a makeup artist, but I had convinced her to cancel the appointment and make me up herself. Amy was good at it, and since she knew me better than anyone else, I knew she would do an amazing job of making me feel pretty.

"Done," she said as she stepped aside to admire her work.

"How do I look?" I asked, smacking my lips and tasting the strawberry-flavored lip liner she had used on my lips.

"Don't mess up your lipstick!" I smacked my lips again and made a face at her. "Gosh, sometimes I wonder if you're really an adult." I could see a faint smile on her lips.

I got up and walked to my dresser mirror. My eyes popped as I looked at myself. My hair, usually untamable, was sitting perfectly on top of my head, curls cascading down to the side in a controlled but sexy way. My lips were a deep shade of red, a color I'd never have used on myself. My glasses were gone, and in their place were my neutral contacts, which brought out my hazel eye color. Amy had accentuated my eyes with mascara and eye liner, making them bigger than I remembered.

I liked the way I looked. My makeup looked natural, almost invisible, yet it hid the few blemishes on my skin. I twirled around like a little girl admiring myself.

“Nice,” I said, hugging my best friend for life.

“I told you you’d look great,” she said, smiling at me.

I spun around a couple more times, laughing. Placing my hands on my hips, I smoothed the dress around my waist and over my abdomen. The redness of the dress complemented me. The only problem I had with the dress was that it was too revealing around my neckline. I tried to pull the top up so my boobs were better hidden, but to no avail. The neckline was cut too low. I pulled a couple more times until Amy noticed what I was doing and scowled at me.

"A little boob show won’t kill you, girl," she said, smacking my hands away from my dress and pulling the dress down so that whatever little decency I had managed to achieve was gone.

"But I don't want to look like a slut," I whined as I tugged on the dress.

"You are already a slut. You know what's going to happen tonight, right?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

“Did you really expect the billionaire boy to let you go home untouched? Don't you think he might want something out of all this?"

I stared at Amy, my eyes widening as her words played in my head. I hadn’t even considered that Nick Saunders wanted anything from me. He didn't know me, and the invitation was just by error. But what if he was expecting some sort of reward from the real Sara that I couldn't give? I gasped at the realization that I hadn't thought the whole thing through, very much unlike me.

"You’re scaring me, Amy," I blurted out. If she hadn't insisted I go to the party, none of this would have come up.

"Relax, Sara. He probably won't notice you. With the number of rich women throwing themselves at him at their stupid ball, I doubt he's going to do more than say hello to you.”

"You confuse me! Just make up your mind what he’ll do to me! But I hope you're right," I said to Amy as I slipped my feet into my heels.

"I am always right. The only person you'll have to watch out for will be his twin sister."

"He has a twin?"

"Didn't you read any of those articles I sent you on him?" Amy had sent me an email a few days ago with a bunch of articles on Nick. I had glanced at them but hadn’t really read them.

"Well, I started to..."

"You didn't read them, did you? You should have read them so you have an idea what you are getting into.”

"It's too late now. So what's up with his sister?" I asked.

Just as she started to explain, the doorbell rang. She walked over to the window and looked out. "Your ride awaits, royal slut," she joked as she handed me my clutch and practically marched me out of my house.

“So what’s up with the sister?”

“Oh, nothing much, except she is overprotective of Nick. I hear she vets every girl that comes around him. But I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but she wouldn't give me answers. Damn, I should have taken more interest in the email she had sent me. I guess I could research his sister on my phone as we drove. It was probably a good idea knowing what I was getting into before I got there. Or maybe I would just deal with things as they happened.

The driver of the limo stepped out of the car as I approached him and promptly opened the door. I smiled at him while trying to control my excitement. I had to pretend like riding in a limo was no big deal. The limo was impressive. Black on the outside and dark brown on the inside.

 

"Hello, David," I said, remembering him from the last time he delivered the card to me. “Good to see you again.”

"Good evening, Ms. Nolles. The pleasure is all mine,” he said as he held the door for me. I got into the car and he was back in the driver seat. "Ms. Nolles, can I offer you anything to drink? Water, wine, or juice?"

"No, thank you," I said, chuckling. It felt weird to be addressed so formally. As the car pulled out of the neighborhood, navigating through the narrow roads and potholes, I felt like I was in a different world.

 

 

NICK

Nick knew his guests would be arriving soon, but he was too wound up to stay put. Instead, he decided to go for a walk on his property. He would be back before the first guests arrived. Taking walks on his land was one of the things he enjoyed most about having money, and he hoped to share some of his pastimes with Sara, once she got to know him.

He put on some shorts and a tee and stepped out of the house and away from where the party was going to happen. As he breathed in the cool, fresh air, he felt himself begin to relax. The expanse of greenery had a way of helping him relax. The first time he had seen the land before he bought it, it had reminded him so much of what nature was meant to be - lush trees, hidden water paths, rocks, dandelions and all the other stupid little things that made him feel alive. He had instantly fallen in love with the land and quickly bought it and constructed his house without messing up the natural landscape.

During the construction, he had built a secret retreat in the middle of it all, and now, as he walked away from the noise and music, his feet took the sure path he knew so well. He relaxed and let his senses direct him. Once he was far from prying eyes, he sat on a huge stone. He had been so stressed with thoughts of Sara. Granted, he had just met her, but she was already taking over his life, pushing him past his comfort zone.

Lately, he had begun to question himself, making little stupid errors he knew better than to make. He had to be careful because Zia was already on him, noticing the little things he did wrong. It was weird how a girl he just met could make him lose control so quickly. He got up and kept walking.

As he strolled past a winding stream, he took off his shoes and waded into the water. It was beautiful and warm in the afternoon sun, just like he remembered Sara's face. He tried to imagine how she’d look at the party but couldn’t imagine her in anything other than the waitress outfit she made look so sexy. The thought of her body clad in that outfit aroused him. He needed to strip a couple of layers of clothes to cool off. He looked around to make sure no one was following him and took off his shirt; he wasn’t expecting anyone since no one came to that part of his property except him and his family. The staff never asked questions; they just knew not to venture to this part of the estate. If anyone ever wondered what they did in those forests, no one ever asked.

The beauty of being a billionaire is that you can buy privacy, as well as get a girl you really like to come to a party without speaking to her. He chuckled at the anticipation of seeing Sara's face again, staring into her eyes like he had the last time he had seen her, touching her, even if it was just a hug, and smelling her essence if she would let him. He sounded like a creepy stalker, and that was not what he wanted to project. He had to be careful he didn’t come across as an asshole or a weirdo.

The sun was blazing and he got even hotter. He decided to go for a swim to cool off. "Fuck it," he said aloud as he stripped to the skin and plunged into the pool. Once he hit the water, his animalistic instincts took over, and he started making powerful strides, swimming uphill against the current. The faster he swam, the more his body begged for more. It was as if the physical exhaustion was what he needed to get control of his thoughts of Sara.

While he was under the water, he heard someone calling his name from a distance. Zia was on the other side of the river where he had left his clothes. She had probably guessed he was off swimming to release tension. This was the first time he had done this right before an event with so little time to spare.

He surfaced and looked up in the clouds. He had gotten so carried away being in nature that he had totally lost track of time. He should have been dressed and awaiting the guests rather than naked and swimming in a stream, totally unaware of the rest of civilization.

"Coming, Zia!" he called to her from the distance.

"You're going to make us late!" she called back to him. "You know what time it is?”

Nick didn't have to get close to her to know she was seething mad at him. Her voice told him all he needed to know. "I'll be there in a few!" Nick called back.

"Five minutes, brother! And put some damn clothes on."

Nick heard her footsteps retreat to the house. He swam back to his clothes and was dressed and on his way back to the house quickly.

The guests hadn't started arriving when he emerged, but his staff were ready to start the party. He disappeared into his room and took a quick shower. He had picked out a sensible dinner suit for the evening - a white suit tailored for him, but on second thought, he went for a dark suit. He had a sense that Sara would find him more appealing in a darker color.

As he dressed, he cursed himself. When did everything he do start depending on Sara's opinion? He hadn't even kissed her, for crying out loud, and he was rearranging his life for her.

Looking out his window as he dressed, he watched the cars pull up the long driveway and let the guests out.

The first person to arrive was Mr. Harris, a man in his fifties, with his fourth or fifth wife. He had lost count. Nick watched them alight from the limo after it parked in his expansive driveway – the man, clad in an expensive, custom-made suit, alligator shoes, and a pin-stripe white shirt; his wife was dressed in a long, black, tight dress that was probably from a limited collection of some overpriced designer line, her shoes at least five inches high, and her hair, blonde, cropped, and silky. They came every year, or rather, he came every year with a different wife, Nick thought, a smile on his face. He didn't care so much about his wives because he contributed to his cause. To Nick’s amusement, Mr. Harris hurried out of the car when the chauffeur opened the door like he couldn’t wait to get away from his spouse, who was right beside him, speaking to him. Nick saw her touch his hand gently and quickly kiss him on the lips. He didn’t let the kiss linger; he slyly pulled away from her. Nick could tell what sort of relationship they had. Another divorce was on the way.

The second limo pulled up to let out his second set of guests, a couple who were close friends of Zia. Nick sighed. He knew that two limos were his cue to come downstairs and greet the guests. Their selection of guests were not really his close friends, but people they knew were mega rich. It was great to have all those people coming to his event, but he was interested in just one car, his limo, and David, the chauffeur, was running late.

 

 

SARA

Even though I had earlier decided against drinking, now that I was really going to the party, I began to freak out. I looked in the mirror on the limo; I looked decent. I could see the diamond necklace. I had forgotten to take it off. I had let Amy persuade me to wear it, but I wouldn't keep it. I'd take it off as soon as the limo left, and I was far away from Amy. I reached behind my neck to unclasp it. The limo driver looked at me through the mirror and smiled.

"You should keep it on. It suits you."

"Thank you," I smiled. "But it's really not mine."

"Well, it suits you very well. Better than anyone else.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but I murmured thank you though I was quietly steaming inside. Did David really mean that Nick Saunders gave this same necklace to a million other women? It was insulting that he would send me a necklace his ex-girlfriends have worn.

Suddenly, the necklace seemed to have caught fire on my neck, and I tried to yank it off, not caring about being careful. The diamond necklace that had graced my neck now seemed like a whore’s accessory. How dare he think he can do that to me? I calmed down as I realized that he hadn’t done anything to me; rather, he had sent that to the real Sara Nolles. So what was she? His sex-toy?

I looked at the driver, debating whether to ask him what he meant, but he had turned his focus back to the road. He probably wouldn't discuss his boss's escapades, and it wouldn’t be right for me to push him. For a moment, I toyed with asking the driver to take me back home and giving the stupid necklace to him, but if I did go home, Amy was waiting for me.

Suddenly I was mad. Did these women even know that he was using them? Or did he just think that because he could buy anything in the world, he had a right to buy women? My anger changed to disbelief, then anger again. How dare he think I was a whore? Or was the real Sara Nolles really a whore?

"Ma'am, if you'd like some water...” the driver began, but I was already pulling out a bottle of very expensive wine.

"Thanks," I said, tight-lipped. I opened the bottle and poured myself a glass, careful not to spill it on myself. I was not a wine person and didn't drink liquor or alcohol, but I felt like I needed that glass. Maybe even two glasses. The first glass to calm my fraying nerves and convince myself that attending this party was okay. And the second glass to calm my anger at Nick Saunders for peddling a necklace among all his girlfriends like they were nothing.

I wondered how many girls had worn the necklace before me. I took the necklace off and placed it in the inner pocket of my purse where I knew it would be safe until I handed it to Nick Saunders. It was the right thing to do. Maybe he could peddle it to the next girl that let him sleep with her.

"Ma'am, we'll be pulling up shortly," the driver's voice cut into my thoughts.

I hadn't been paying attention, but I now looked out the window. Even though it was dark, I could see the house, or rather, the mansion that loomed in front of us.

"Holy shit," I swore under my breath as we pulled up to the gates and security let us in. The massive house in front of me was like no other.

 

 

NICK

From the corner of the foyer, Nick watched as his limo pulled up to the house and the woman he had eagerly been waiting for stepped out of the car. For one second, he didn’t recognize her – gone were the rough edges he had seen at the café, replaced by a softness he hadn’t noticed. She had filled out some more and was curvier than he remembered. His pants tightened as he resisted the urge to run to her and sweep her into his arms. That was sure to make her leave the party. He’d be lucky if she stayed after discovering he was the guy from the café. If she chose not to stay, he wouldn’t blame her.

He tried to focus his mind on other things, but he could not stop gaping at her. She was stunning, a word he had never used to describe another woman. She wore a daring red dress, something he would never have imagined her wearing. Her red lips were eye-catching, her curves he could see from the distance, and her hair accentuated her dress. She was beyond beautiful, and even though in his wildest dreams of her he had imagined her in a black dress, or earthy, neutral colors, he loved how the red dress made her eyes shine. If only she had worn the necklace he’d sent her… it would have signified her guard was down.

He saw one of his hostesses approach and greet her, then guide her toward the tent. He knew he should be out there to welcome her, and in any other circumstance, he would have had no problem walking up to the woman and making easy conversation, but for some reason, this woman stumped him. When had he become this shy man afraid to talk to a woman?

He watched her walk, swinging her hips and smiling and talking to the hostess. After a few seconds of observing her, he was ready to make his debut. It was reckoning time.

 

 

SARA

I walked with the hostess, who guided me toward the tent where the event was taking place - an outdoor set up that looked like a five-star hotel.

"Beautiful," I said to the hostess, whose name was Diane. Simply breathtaking, I thought but didn't say it aloud since I didn’t want to sound too eager and stick out like a sore thumb. I had to remember that even though I had never seen such opulence in my life, I had to act like I was born and bred with a silver spoon in my mouth so I didn't look ridiculous, at least not until I was kicked out of the party, which was sure to happen.

"You haven't been to this event before," she stated rather than asked.

"No, I haven’t," I admitted. There was no use lying. Based on her greetings to her co-workers and how she had so expertly received me, Diane had probably worked there for years and most likely knew all the guests’ names.

"Usually Mr. Saunders receives his first time guests personally. He likes to show them around. Perhaps he will show you the grounds later," she said with a curt smile.

"Perhaps," I replied, smiling. Perhaps not. I’m not sure I wanted to be that close to a man who was so filthy. Then again, how was I any different from the other guests? I had accepted an invitation to a party that I should not have come to. If anyone was filthy, maybe it was me. In a way, I was glad he had not come to receive me because he would have seen right through me.

I hoped when I began mingling with other guests, he would not notice me. Except there was one major problem. I still had his necklace and needed to return it to him. Damn. I felt my bag to reaffirm the necklace was still there. It was.

As I stepped into the tent, I couldn't believe that I was even in a tent. Mr. Saunders had transported the best ballroom from one of those expensive hotels and imported it into the tent. It was magnificent. Granted I was easy to please, but the place was professionally decorated with flowers, crystals, and the best of what money could buy.

"Nice, isn't it, ma’am?" Diane said, smiling. “Quite breathtaking when you first see it. You know, the first time I saw the set up my first time working for the Saunders, I wondered if I had died and gone to Heaven.”

"It is elegant," I said, trying to control my excitement. Perhaps if I acted like being in a five-star hotel-tent or whatever was the norm for me, I could blend in easily.

"Can I get you something to drink, ma'am?" she asked, motioning to a server with a tray of wine glasses.

"Sure," I replied with a smile.

"What would you like? We have..."

"Just water, thank you," I said, cutting her off gently. My head was already spinning from the wine in the limo, and the last thing I wanted to do was to make a fool of myself at this event.

"Sure," she said. She pulled one of the glasses off the tray and handed it to me.

I stifled a smile, thinking that I could have easily grabbed the glass of water myself. She made me think of those rich folks who needed someone to brush their hair and teeth for them. Usually, I was the one grabbing water off the tray for folks, not the other way around.

"Thanks, Diane.”

"My pleasure, ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, thank you so much," I replied. Diane nodded and started walking towards another guest. That was what I should probably do, walk towards another guest and introduce myself. Then it hit me. The people around me ran multibillion-dollar companies. They owned the kinds of cafes I worked in. What the heck was I supposed to talk about? My job as a waitress? I felt cold sweat breaking out along my spine. I thought about what sort of job I was supposed to have. I wasn't sure if my side photography gig counted as a billion-dollar business. I was screwed and I knew it.

I looked around. Several ladies who looked like they had just stepped out of a fashion magazine mingled with their partners. I moved closer and closer to the corner of the room until I was almost invisible. The women had wine glasses in one hand –no doubt sipping on the most expensive drinks in the world– and flirted with the men surrounding them.

Maybe it was time to leave. Who was I kidding? I didn't belong here with these women who looked so expensive. I knew their clothes, shoes, jewelries were priceless. Maybe I should have worn the necklace. Maybe that would have helped me fit in.

The men were dressed in suits obviously custom-tailored for them. I watched how they held the women's delicate waists and whispered to them. If nothing else, my curves made me stand out. The red dress drew attention, and I started to regret wearing such a bright color when everyone else was dressed in black. I mentally cursed Amy for making me wear the dress when I could have worn a simple black dress.

An elderly woman walked toward me. I straightened and moved a little bit out of the shadows. Even though I didn't want to be seen, I didn't want to look like I was hiding either.

"Hi," the woman said as she approached me. I was too shocked to reply. I instantly recognized her: Madison Saunders, billionaire heiress and television personality. “How are you this evening?”

"I'm okay. Thanks," I replied quietly.

She waved a loose strand of graying curly hair off her face and sipped from the glass she was holding. "Dear, I noticed you were by yourself and I felt you needed a friend."

I wasn't sure how to respond, but I didn't have to; she continued talking.

"What's your name?"

"Sara. Sara Nolles."

"Hi, Sara. I'm Madison Saunders. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand for a handshake.

I took her hand, shaking it, a billion questions running through my mind. It never occurred to me that Madison Saunders, who I loved watching on TV, was related to Nick Saunders. "So honored, Ms. Saunders. I love your show."

She smiled. "Thank you so much. If only they would stop introducing new technology. It makes me crazy. It's hard to keep up with that stuff, you know?"

"I can imagine," I said. A moment of warm silence passed between us.

"These affairs can be intimidating, right? I remember my first ball. My parents had prepared me for it, but I was still shocked."

"Yes," I said, glad to have company, any company. I relaxed.

"But this is for a good cause. Nick and Zia raise money every year to preserve the forest. Someone has to save our lands or they'll all be turned into skyscrapers and malls. We don’t want that.”

"No, we don't want that," I agreed, laughing.

"So why do you support the preservation project? You're a nature lover as well?" The question caught me off guard and she noticed. "You don't know what tonight is about, do you?"

I shook my head, very much ashamed that I had come to an event without doing my homework. I had thought this was just a party. I never realized it was an actual event. "Not really," I said in a low tone.

"The short version is that Nick does a good job of extracting money from his rich friends to preserve a large forest for natural preservation."

"That's a great cause," I said. I would never have thought that someone who seemed so chauvinistic, and a self-confessed playboy, would have interest in doing anything selfless.

"It is. He used to bear the entire cost himself, but over the last three years, he started this extravagant fundraiser to help mitigate the rising costs of keeping the land safe from the government’s land development craze.”

Oh great! I was attending a fundraiser and had no money to my name.

"So the fundraiser is really a silent auction with large items for public bid at the end of the night,” Ms. Saunders explained.

I maintained my smile despite the anxiety in my head. "That must be exciting."

"It is fun to see how much people are willing to donate when they know they'll be publically acknowledged.”

"I’m sure," I said, my mind thinking of my purse with less than twenty dollars in it.

"Come on. We don't want to stand all night talking to ourselves. Let's introduce you to some guests."

"Okay," I said.

She must have heard the hesitation in my voice. She started laughing and sipping her drink. "You need a drink to relax. Why do you think I'm on my third glass of whatever this wine is?"

"Why?" I asked, smiling. I liked Ms. Saunders and wondered about her relationship to Nick, but I didn't want to sound nosy. Besides, I didn't want to explain how I knew Nick. Or rather, how I didn't know Nick.

"To relax, of course. I drink to relax. Are you here by yourself?""

"Yes," I said, then wished I had said I was waiting for someone. But who? Maybe waiting for someone that doesn't show up is better than waiting for no one.

"Then you should be aware of Nick Saunders. If he knew you were here by yourself..."

"Grandma.” A deep, intensely familiar, sexy voice spoke to Ms. Saunders. “Why are you scaring the lady?"

I knew it was him without even turning around. The guy from the café. Nothing had prepared me for this moment, but I didn’t have much choice but to turn around and say hello to him. One part of me was annoyed that he had tricked me into coming after my objections at the café, and the other part of me was happy to see him again. And then a third, more reasonable part of me imagined this was a mistake and him being at the café and me getting an invitation was a horrible twist of faith. He had meant to invite another Sara and I had showed up to his event.

"Who is this lovely lady you're talking to, Grandma?”

I turned around, fully expecting him to look shocked when he saw my face, but he simply smiled at me, his brown eyes daring and bold. He was exactly how I remembered him. Devilishly handsome. I let his brown eyes gaze back at me, looking deep into my eyes, and I thought I'd melt.

"Oh, she's your guest, isn't she? You can't tell me you don't know the lovely Sara Nolles," his grandmother said.

I forced myself to keep smiling as I imagined his smile fading any second once he heard “Sara Nolles.” But his smile did not wane. Instead, he reached out and took my hand. When his skin touched mine, I almost withdrew my hand because it felt like he had scorched me. He looked so rugged even in his suit, I had imagined his hands would be rough, but they were rather delicate. I had to remind myself that he was ultra-rich and could afford as many manicures as he wanted. But I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me with his money. I held his gaze and shook his hand, waiting for the instant he would call me out as fake and pull me to the side.

"Nice to finally meet you properly, Sara," he said. “The café was just too stifling.”

I was seething with anger, but I did my best to control it out of respect for Ms. Saunders. Did he really think he could push me around just because he had money? I had made it clear I didn’t want to date him, but he had pushed. I had to admire his tenacity, though, but not at that moment.

His grandma looked at him and smiled. She turned to me like I was her long lost friend and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "See you around, Sara. Be careful of this one," she said as she walked away.

When she left, he turned to me and smiled. “I’m sorry I had to do it this way. You were blowing me off, and I wanted to make a good first impression, a second time.”

“We’ve already met. How can you make a new impression?” I was still mad, but I was beginning to soften. He was certainly persistent. Even though I had no plans of getting into his bed, he was trying so hard that I had to like him just a bit for his persistence.

“Well, I was hoping you would let me try again.”

“I’m afraid that might be too late. Your grandmother already warned me,” I teased, trying not to smile.

“Yes, my grandmother,” he smiled lovingly at her. “She likes you.”

"She’s lovely," I said.

"She can be pushy sometimes." He bent over and whispered in my ear, "The old lady certainly scared me when I was growing up."

I chuckled at the thought of the kind old woman being hard on him. “You must have deserved it.”

“Maybe so. I was a rascal,” he said. “I guess she wanted to see me grow up right.”

I smiled at him. Maybe he wasn’t too bad after all.

"You're not drinking?" he asked as he signaled to a waiter.

"Everyone in your family wants to get me drunk," I told him with a smile. "And really, you've not formally introduced yourself." I knew who he was, but I wanted him to confirm. I needed him to tell me he was Nick Saunders, the man whose diamond necklace lay in my purse.

"My poor manners. Maybe Grandma didn’t do a good enough job of making me a gentleman. I’m Nick Saunders," he said, reaching out his hand again.

"Sara Nolles. But you already knew that."

"Yes, I did a little homework. Did you?”

I didn’t want to tell him I had not researched him. It hadn’t been important when he was just Nick Saunders, but now that he was Mr. Rich from the café, I had to give him a second thought. “Not much. All I know is you own a Rolex and a limo and like your coffee strong.”

"I take it you want to know more about me, then?” he asked, his gaze making me catch my breath.

"Possibly, Mr. Saunders,” I replied. I did want to know more about him, but I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“Please call me Nick,” he said with a smile that was sexy as heck.

“Okay, Nick,” I hesitated. It was weird to address a man so rich and powerful by his first name. “Before you go any further, I have to tell you something," I said, my voice low.

"Sure, Sara. May I call you Sara? You look so beautiful tonight. Do you know that?” he said.

"Yes, of course," I said. Hoping he hadn’t misunderstood, I corrected myself when I saw a grin spread on his face. "I mean, yes you may call me Sara. Not yes that I know I’m beautiful. You know… I mean...”

"You are beautiful and it's okay to admit that." He lowered his voice and drew closer to me. “You are the most beautiful girl here.”

"Thanks." I was too shy to dispute his comments.

"So, Sara it is then."

I nodded, not trusting myself to say another word. I had to stop acting like a teenager around him. “About the necklace you sent me,” I started but was cut off when a female voice called to him from afar. He turned his attention toward her. While he responded, I allowed my eyes to travel over him. He was dressed in a suit that had been crafted on him. His eyes, a deep shade of warm brown, were thoughtful and sexy. His mouth had a curve that deepened the few times he had smiled at me. I stole a glance at his upper torso and could tell he had great definition behind that suit, like someone who spent a good portion of his days working out.

"Oh no," he mumbled as he recognized the woman calling to him.

"What?" I asked as I turned to look at a skinny, dark-haired woman approaching us. She was hot. Damn, she was sexy. As she walked towards us, I felt like I was in some kind of well-rehearsed fashion show and one of the models was approaching me with well-practiced cat steps. She wore a shiny, short dress that fitted her like a glove and left nothing to the imagination, heels so high I wondered how she didn’t fall on her face as she walked towards us, and her lips were a bright red. Her curls bounced and fell back into place with every step. She was perfect, the kind of woman I had always wanted to be, and for an instant, I was jealous of whomever she was and whatever she was to him.

"Hi, Olivia," he called to her.

The way she looked at him told me without any doubts that the two of them had something naughty going on. Her face looked familiar, but I didn't feel like trying to figure out how I knew her. It didn’t matter anyways. I imagined that all the women at the party were A-list celebrities. I had probably seen every one of them on TV or in a magazine at some point in my life.

"Kiss me," Nick said to me, turning around to face me, his back to the fancy Olivia. “Now.”

"What?" I asked, sure he wasn’t talking to me.

"Kiss me now." His voice had lowered and his eyes pierced mine. I could not resist even if I wanted to.

"Nick!" The woman was at our heels. “Baby!”

Nick didn't wait for my response. I felt his hands on my waist, holding me like he owned me. He crushed me against him and put his lips on mine. The world stood still. Cliché, I know, but there was no other way to describe what I felt. I didn't kiss him back; I was still in shock. He broke the kiss as quickly as he had started it.

"Nick?" Olivia was standing right behind him, her voice low and angry.

I dared to look at her since I could feel daggers stabbing at me. This was not going to be good.

"Hi, Olivia," he said as he gave her a quick hug, ignoring the lips she had pouted out for him. They did indeed have something going on. Or rather, something went on between them that was no longer there.

I knew what had happened. He had used me as bait to pay back the woman, whomever she was. An old girlfriend maybe? The kiss was just to spite her and maybe get back at her for something she had done to him. In that instant, I felt so mad at him. How dare he use me like I was a common whore? Yes, I may have crashed his party, but that didn’t give him the right to abuse my mouth. Pleasurable, yes. But that was beside the point. The kiss had been rough and unwanted; well maybe not, but it wasn't my idea of how to kiss a man.

"Excuse me," I said to the two of them as I almost pushed Nick aside to get away.

“Who was that?" I heard the woman ask, but I didn’t hear Nick's response. I quickly rushed out of the tent. Tears were streaming down my face until I had walked for a bit. I heard a voice behind me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

"Sara, please stop." Nick was following me but I wasn’t stopping. "Sara, can you please stop? You have something that belongs to me."

That stopped me. He knew what he said would make me stop. Men like him, billionaires like him, knew how to get what they wanted.

"Yes," I said, turning around and wiping my eyes. I reached into my bag to pull the necklace out. The moonlight reflected on its diamonds. I held it out to him, but he didn’t take it. I lowered my arm.

"That too, but that's not what I meant," he said.

"What did you mean?" I asked.

"May I be honest?” he said.

“Be my guest,” I said.

“I just wanted you to stop and listen to me."

“I’m listening. Speak,” I said, surprised by my courage. Hours ago, I hadn’t even dared to look at his picture because I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to face him. Now I was giving him orders in his own house.

"I am so sorry about what happened back there.”

"What are you sorry about? That you kissed a total stranger? With your reputation, that must have been easy to do.”

"Okay, that hurt, Sara. But I deserved it."

"Mr. Saunders, I am not here to figure out what you deserve."

"Sara, a man in my position hardly apologies for anything. You should know that.”

Except I didn’t know that and I didn’t care. Even if I did, Nick Saunders had no right to kiss me without my permission, especially if he was doing it to ward off an old girlfriend. "A man in your position thinks he has a right to kiss a woman without permission?"

"To be fair, I did ask your permission first."

"No, you demanded I kiss you and when I asked why, you forced yourself on me."

"I didn’t force myself on you. You kissed me back."

"Only because you were kissing me and making a show of it for that woman.”

"Olivia."

"Whoever."

"Sara, that was wrong. I'm sorry I kissed you like that, but that kiss wasn’t for Olivia's sake. Trust me.”

"So why did you kiss me?” I asked against my better judgement.

"I wanted to. For my own sake," he said simply, his voice neither loud nor low, just firm.

"Yours! So you exploit women's mouths for your own benefit.”

"I didn't exploit your mouth. I simply kissed you because..."

"Because you think you can buy everything. You think you send me an invitation and a diamond necklace and I'll let you kiss me.”

"I was hoping for that, actually," he smirked.

I saw the smile curve his face before being replaced by fake seriousness. "You what? First of all, you don’t know me.”

"But I want to know you,” he said.

"Tricking me into coming to your party is not a good way to meet me. You know what, I am so sorry I came to this ball or whatever it is. I'm sorry I even came up here."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. I came up here to return this necklace to you. I thought your office sent me an invitation by mistake since I’m neither elite nor rich. I barely have more than ten dollars to my name. And if I have half the sense I need, I would not have let my best friend talk me into coming here.”

"She's a true friend," he said.

"Mr. Saunders, I need to go," I said. I held the necklace out to him again.

"Sara, please keep it."

"It's not even for me. God knows how many women have worn this. I’m not like that. You can’t just pick a woman’s name off your to-do list and send them necklaces, even if you think you can buy the whole world.” My voice was loud, my anger was seeping through. I needed to get out of there.

I watched his eyes change from the sexy brown to smoky brown. I was treading on dangerous ground. Whatever I had just said had taken him over the edge. I needed to stop and think. I was still holding the necklace, but he ignored me and started walking back to his party.

"I'll make arrangements to have someone take you home. I apologize for ruining your night." His tone was flat and icy.

Maybe I should have relaxed and let him explain why he had kissed me. Maybe if I had been calm, I could have talked to him about interviewing with his office for a job. I still needed a job, and now that Amy had spent so much of her money getting me ready for this party, she didn’t have much more to spare if I needed an extra dollar or two. Rent was due in a week, and I didn’t have enough money to cover it. My bills were not going away just because I attended a ball.

I wanted to run after him, beg him to talk to me and explain, but I had to maintain my self-pride. Why should I apologize to him when he had simply used me for his own benefit, and had even admitted to it? This was not how I imagined our first official meeting would go. I had thought he was going to be mad at me for impersonating the real Sara Nolles and would kick me out of his home or have security arrest me or whatever. Instead, I was mad and had the power.

I wished things had been different, but it was too late. I stepped on his toes so hard that it was a possibility I would never see him again. And for some reason, I really wanted to see him again.

"Ms. Nolles, the ride you requested is ready," Diane spoke softly behind me.

I had been so engrossed in my own thoughts I didn’t know she had approached me until she was ushering me toward the parking lot where a different limo was waiting for me.

"Thank you, Diane," I said as I walked toward the limo, desperately fighting back my tears, but I didn’t succeed. As soon as I got into the limo, the tears began to flow freely. I searched for a tissue in my bag and realized I still had the necklace with me.

"Excuse me, sir? Is it okay if I give you something to return to Mr. Saunders?" I asked the driver through the partition.

"I have to check with Mr. Saunders first, ma'am. He has a strict policy on issues like this."

Issues like what? What was so strict about his driver picking up his necklace and returning to him? I looked up and saw the driver looking at me. He wasn't referring to the actual returning of the necklace being an issue, but the interference between Nick and his women. Did he think I was Nick's girlfriend? Mistress? Whore? Did Nick train him to stay out of his affairs?

"It's not like that," I started to explain. But I didn’t really know what to say. "Never mind."

"Sorry I can’t help you, miss." He sounded truly apologetic. Poor guy. How many women did he have to chauffeur around for his boss?

I sat back in the soft leather chair and closed my eyes. A nice headache was brewing. I needed to get home and face another headache - Amy. I couldn’t lie to her. She knew the party was supposed to last all night, and unless something drastic happened and I was booted out, I wasn’t supposed to be home this early.

"Excuse me?” I said, catching the driver’s attention in the mirror, “is it possible to take the longer way? I don't want to go home just yet."

"Sure, miss. My pleasure," he grinned.

"Thank you," I replied, settling back into the chair and letting the headache wash over me. Maybe I deserved to be punished for all the wrongs I'd committed that night. Tears streamed down my face again and I felt my dress getting wet. I looked down, and to my dismay, the tears were dark - my mascara was running. Great. I ruined my night. Ruined my chance of every working for the Saunders Empire. Ruined my chance of giving back the necklace with dignity. And ruined the best dress I’d ever owned. Not to mention Amy would skin me alive when I told her why I was home early. The night couldn’t get any worse!

 

 

NICK