Bree
The last sip of chardonnay and the perfect view of Central Park couldn’t curtail my growing agitation as I sat in the Oak Bar located in the Plaza Hotel. “Really?” I whispered to myself as I gazed down at my watch. Twenty minutes late. Not cool. I threw my money down and was just about to leave when my eyes locked with the perfectly put together businessman who had just entered. My initial assessment of the handsome stranger told me he was in his early to mid-thirties, wealthy, and very powerful—typical traits of all my clients. But there was something about him that stood out from all of those other boring politicians, attorneys, and doctors I was used to working with. I was frozen, standing by my seat at the bar, waiting to see if I was the one he was there for. His bright green eyes stood out even from a few feet away. When they locked with mine, I needed to remind myself that if he was my three o’clock, he was just like any other man—a client, and a client who was twenty minutes late.
“Are you Bree?” He finally spoke in a smooth British accent.
“I am,” I replied, putting on my best business persona, reminding myself once again: He was just another potential client. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been around the likes of devastatingly handsome men before, but this man seemed to have a classic elegance—the kind you could only find in movie stars of years gone by. Standing about six feet tall, he had light brown wavy hair, a cleft chin — and did I mention those eyes and that accent?
“I’m Simon Grace.” He extended his hand to me.
“Well, Mr. Grace, I was under the impression that our appointment was at three o’clock.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. “Yes, I’m sorry, I got caught up with something. Did you still have some time to meet?” He motioned to the bar.
I took a deep breath. “Fine, but just so you know, my time is just as valuable as yours, and if we intend to work together, then I can’t have you showing up late.”
He flashed me a deep-dimpled smile, causing me to yammer on some more.
“Because Margo and I are both sticklers for promptness, and you will be charged—”
“Understood.” He nodded.
“Fine,” I huffed, taking a seat back in the same spot I had been in for the past twenty minutes.
“What were you drinking?” he asked as he summoned the bartender.
“Shouldn’t I be the one buying your drink, Mr. Grace? After all, it is your business I’m looking to gain.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Call me old fashioned, but I believe it’s always the man’s duty to buy the lady a drink.”
Noble, just as I suspected. “Well, thank you. I’ll have another glass of chardonnay.” Once he placed the drink orders, I got right down to business. “So, I’m assuming Margo went over the company’s policies in detail with you.”
“She did.”
“And, you’re agreeable to everything?”
“I am.” He took a sip of the glass of scotch the bartender had just placed in front of him.
“If I’m not what you had in mind, there are plenty of others at the agency you can choose—”
“No, you’re perfect.”
My stomach fluttered ever so slightly at the sound of those words. “Okay, then. What type of arrangement did you want to set up?” The usual questions barreled through my mind—What did he do for a living? Was he married? Did he have a family? Was he just someone who got off on paying women an insane amount of money to have sex with him? I knew better than to ask any of those thoughts. That wasn’t my business. My job was to get the contract signed, perform the services requested, and receive payment for said services. More often than not, I’d find out all the answers to those questions and then some once we began working together.
He took in a deep breath and stared straight ahead with uncertainty. He was definitely a newbie at this. “I’m a very busy man.” He hesitated. “Between running my company and—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “Mr. Grace.”
“Simon,” he corrected.
“Simon…It’s okay. Please don’t feel as if you need to justify your reasons for doing this. This is a business deal. Plain and simple. There’s no judgment on my end. So just think of it as signing a contract on that big business merger or whatever it is that you do for a living.”
“Advertising,” he offered.
“There you go. Think of it as signing off on the next big ad campaign.” I flashed him a warm smile, trying my best to put his mind at ease.
Still seeming a little unsure of himself, he began to speak. “Once a week, and on occasions when I would need you to escort me to events.”
“That’s fine.” I pulled out my phone and looked over my calendar. “I have Thursday afternoons open. Does that work for you?”
He gave me a curt nod.
“Perfect. Margo will finalize the details and email you the contract. If anything changes between now and Thursday, just give her a call or...” I grabbed a napkin from the bar and dug through my purse for a pen, jotting down my phone number. “Feel free to call me.”
He lifted his glass to his lips and took another sip of his scotch, casting an intense gaze upon me.
I stood up and extended my hand to him. “I’ll see you next Thursday, Mr.—I mean, Simon.”
He gently took my hand in his and shook it back. “It was very nice meeting you, Bree.”
“Likewise.” I was frozen in the spell his emerald green gems had cast upon me. The ding of my phone was suddenly a sharp reminder that my next appointment was waiting. Pulling it together, I snapped back into reality…and just like that, Mr. Simon Grace had gone from Prince Charming to my Thursday afternoon.