Playing Mr. Right
by Kat Cantrell
The building housing LeBlanc Charities felt the same as every other time Xavier had set foot in it—like he’d been banished. Despite sharing a last name with the founder, this was the last place he’d choose to be, which was too bad considering he’d been forced to walk through the door nearly every day for the last three months.
And would continue to do so for the next three months until this hell of an inheritance test drew to its conclusion. Xavier’s father had devised a diabolical way to ensure his sons danced to his tune long after he’d died: Xavier and his brother, Val, had been required to switch places in order to receive their inheritances.
So the ten years Xavier had spent learning the ins and outs of LeBlanc Jewelers, plus the five years since he’d taken over the CEO chair and broken his back to please his father...none of that mattered. In order to get the five hundred million dollars he’d have sworn he’d already earned, Xavier had to pass one final test. But instead of being required to do something that made sense, the will stipulated that Xavier would become a fundraiser in Val’s place at LeBlanc Charities and his brother would assume the reins of LeBlanc Jewelers.
Even three months after the fact, Xavier still foamed at the mouth if he let himself dwell on how unfair and impossible the terms were. His father had betrayed him, bottom line. While Xavier had been putting enormous energy into connecting with his dad and basking in the glow of being the favored son in blissful ignorance, Edward had been plotting to posthumously show his sons how much he really hated both of them.
In that, Xavier and Val were alike. It had been a surprisingly effective bonding experience for the brothers who shared similar faces and not much else. Though twins, they’d never been close, even choosing completely different paths as adults. Val had followed their mother into LeBlanc Charities and thrived. Xavier had gladly shucked off anything remotely resembling charity work in favor of the powerful CEO’s office at one of the world’s largest and most profitable diamond companies.
All for nothing.
The terms of the will had sliced off a huge piece of Xavier’s soul and he’d yet to recover it.
Bitter did not begin to describe his feelings toward his father. But he used that bitterness as fuel. He would not fail at this test. Success was the best revenge, after all.
Xavier had swept into his new role at LBC with gusto...and despite his fierce need to ace his task, he still hadn’t gotten his feet under him. It was like his father had stacked the deck against him, somehow. The problem was that the will stipulated Xavier had to raise ten million dollars in donations while doing Val’s job. No easy feat. But he hadn’t given up yet, nor would he.
Even at 6:00 a.m., LeBlanc Charities teemed with life. The food pantry operated seven days a week, fifteen hours a day. It was ludicrous. A huge waste of capital. Oftentimes, the volunteers reported that no guests had darkened the door of LBC during the early morning hours, yet they always kept the light on.
Changing the operational hours of the food pantry had been one of the first of many executive orders Xavier had come to regret. He’d changed them back, but Marjorie Lewis, the tiny general of a woman who had been a surprisingly effective services manager, had still quit. Sure, she’d told Val—her real boss, as she’d informed Xavier—that her mother had fallen ill with a long-term condition. But Xavier knew the truth.
She hated him.
Nearly everyone at LBC did, so that was at least consistent. The staff who reported to him at LeBlanc Jewelers—his real job, as he’d informed Marjorie—respected him. Did they like him? Who knew? And Xavier didn’t care as long as they increased profits month over month.
LBC was not the diamond industry. No one here owned any diamonds, except for him, and he’d stopped wearing his Yacht-Master watch after the first day. Marjorie had pointed out, rather unkindly, that the people LBC helped would either assume it was fake, try to steal it or paint him with the ugly brush of insensitivity. Or all three.
Therefore, a five-hundred-thousand-dollar watch now sat in his jewelry box, unworn. Talk about a waste. But he’d left it there in hopes of garnering some of that mythical respect. Instead, he’d met brick wall after brick wall in the form of Marjorie, who had rallied the troops to hate him as much as she did. And then she’d quit, leaving Xavier holding the bag. Literally.
Yesterday, he’d worked in the food pantry, stocking shopping bags the hungry people LBC served could grab and go. The families took prepacked boxes. Once a day, LBC served a meal, but Xavier stayed out of the kitchen. Jennifer Sanders, the meal services manager, had that well under control and also agreed with the popular opinion that Val walked on water, so anything Xavier did paled in comparison.
Like he did every morning, Xavier retreated to his office. Val’s office, really, but Xavier had redecorated. He’d ordered the walls painted and new furniture installed because if this was going to be his domain, it shouldn’t remind him every second that Val had been here first—and done it better.
Xavier pushed around the enormous amount of paperwork that a charity generated until his brother popped through the door. Thank God. Xavier had started to wonder if Val would actually show up for their planned meeting about the missing services manager. After Marjorie stormed out, the majority of the day-to-day operations management fell to Xavier and that left precious little time to plan fundraisers that he desperately needed to organize.
Val had offered to help with the interview process, which had been a lifeline Xavier had gladly snagged, without telling his brother how much he needed that help. If the terms of his father’s will had taught him anything, it was not to trust a soul, not even family.
“Sorry I’m late.” Val strolled into his former office and made a face at the walls, flipping his too-long hair out of his eyes. “If you were going to paint, at least you could have picked a color other than puke green.”
“It’s sage. Which is soothing.”
It was nothing of the sort and did not resemble the color swatch the decorator had showed him in the slightest. But Xavier had to live with it, apparently, because LBC didn’t have a lot of extra money for frivolous things like painting. When he’d tried to use his own money, Marjorie had flipped out and cited a hundred and forty-seven reasons that was a bad idea. Mostly what he’d gotten out of her diatribe was that LBC had a negative audit in their rearview and thus had multiple microscopes pointed at their books.
Meaning Xavier needed to watch his step.
“Who do we have on tap today?” Val asked pleasantly as he sprawled in one of the chairs ringing the director’s desk that Xavier sat behind.
No one was fooled by the desk. Xavier didn’t direct much of anything. He would have claimed to be a smart man prior to this inheritance test, but LBC had slowly stripped away his confidence. At his normal job, he ran a billion-dollar company that was one of the most highly respected jewelry operations in the world. LeBlanc was synonymous with diamonds. He could point to triumph after triumph in his old world. This new one? Still Val’s baby even though Xavier’s brother was currently helming LeBlanc Jewelers with flair.
Xavier stopped his internal whining and picked up the single résumé on his desk. “After you ruled out the others, this is the only one. The candidate has experience similar to Marjorie’s but with a women’s shelter. So probably she’s a no-go. I want someone with food-pantry experience.”
“Well, that’s your call.” Val’s tone held a tinge of disapproval, as if wanting someone with experience was the height of craziness. “Do you mind if I look at it?”
He handed the résumé to Val, who glanced over it, his lips pursed.
“This Laurel Dixon is the only new résumé you’ve got?” Val asked.
“From people who are remotely qualified, yeah. So far. I posted the job to the usual sites but we’ve had very little response.”
Val pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not good. I wonder if our little inheritance experiment has made the rounds. I would have expected more applicants, but if you’ve scared off all the candidates, I’m going to be in a world of hurt when I step back into my position here.”
That stung, but Xavier didn’t let it show. He never did. He’d learned to school his emotions at Edward LeBlanc’s knee from an early age. CEOs didn’t wear their hearts on their sleeves or they lost the respect of their workers. That lesson had served him well—until his father had upended everything in one fell swoop.
“This is not my fault,” Xavier responded evenly, though Val’s point wasn’t lost on him. Marjorie. Again. He wouldn’t put it past her to have poisoned the well of potential applicants, but there was no way to fix that now. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Dad.”
Val’s expression didn’t change as he waved the résumé. “We should interview this candidate. What other choice do you have? No one says you have to keep her if she doesn’t work out.”
“Fine.”
Xavier picked up the phone and left a message at the number listed on the résumé. He didn’t have time to argue the point or let his feelings get in a twist because Val was throwing his weight around. This was all temporary, and as Val had so eloquently pointed out, he’d be back in the saddle again soon, anyway. Little that Xavier did would make a difference in the long run.
Since they didn’t have much regarding Marjorie’s replacement to meet about, after all, Val apparently thought that was a license to ask a few barbed questions about how things were going operationally at LBC. They were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door.
Adelaide, the admin who had been a disciple of Marjorie’s, poked her head into the office with a sweet smile for Val. If he hadn’t seen it himself, Xavier wouldn’t have believed she knew how to smile.
“There’s a Laurel Dixon here to see you,” she said. “About the position.”
Xavier had called her less than thirty minutes ago and he’d said nothing about coming by. Only that he’d like to schedule an interview.
“No notice,” he said quietly to Val. “That’s a little bold, don’t you think?”
It tripped his sixth sense and not in a good way. Downtown Chicago was not known for having great traffic patterns, so either she lived really close by or had already been on her way here.
Val raised his brows in challenge. “I’m already impressed. That’s the kind of go-getting I like.”
Of course he’d say that and manage to make it sound like Xavier was in the wrong at the same time. “I’d rather send her away and schedule a real interview. After I’ve had time to go over her qualifications.”
“She’s here.” Val shrugged. “What’s there to go over? If you’re unsure, I’ll do the talking.”
“I can talk,” Xavier fairly growled. “I just don’t like surprises.”
Or anyone stepping on his toes, which was what he got for stupidly mentioning to his brother that Marjorie’s exodus had caught him sideways. Val had taken full advantage of that show of weakness, too, storming in here like a victorious hero and earning adoring glances from his staff.
Val just grinned and flipped hair out of his face in true slacker fashion. “I’m aware. Don’t sweat it. I came by to handle this problem. Let me handle it.”
When hell froze over. “We’ll both interview her. Adelaide, show her in.”
Val didn’t even bother to move to another chair like a normal person would. You positioned yourself behind the desk as a show of authority. Val probably didn’t even know how to spell authority. That’s why his staff loved him, because he treated them all like equals. Except everyone was not equal. Someone had to be in charge, make the hard decisions.
And that person was Xavier, for better or worse. Val could step aside. This was still Xavier’s office for three more months.
Laurel Dixon walked into the room and Xavier forgot about Val, LBC...his own name. Everything else in the world went dim. Except for her.
The woman following Adelaide looked nothing like Marjorie, that was for sure. She looked nothing like any woman Xavier had ever met. Long, lush sable-colored hair hung down her back, but that only held his attention for a split second. Her face was arresting, with piercing silvery-gray eyes that locked onto his and wouldn’t let go.
Something otherworldly passed between them and it was so fanciful a feeling that Xavier shook it off instantly. He didn’t do otherworldly, whatever the hell that even meant. Never had he used such a term in his life to describe anything. But nothing else fit, and that made the whole encounter suspect. Besides, it was ridiculous to have any sort of reaction to a woman outside of desire, and even that was rarely strong enough for Xavier to note. Most, if not all, of his encounters with females could be described as mildly pleasurable, at best.
This woman had trouble written all over her if she could elicit such a response by merely walking into a room.
Coupled with the fact that she’d shown up without an appointment—Laurel Dixon raised his hackles about ten degrees past uncomfortable.
“Ms. Dixon.” Val stood and offered his hand. “I’m Valentino LeBlanc, the director of LBC.”
“Mr. LeBlanc. Very nice to meet you,” she said, her clean voice vibrating across Xavier’s skin with a force he couldn’t shake.
He’d have said he preferred sultry voices. Sexy ones that purred when aroused. Laurel Dixon’s voice could never be described as carnal, but that didn’t seem to matter. He instantly wanted to hear it again. It was the kind of voice he could listen to for an hour and never get bored.
This was supposed to be an interview. Not a seduction. Actually, he’d never been seduced before, at least, not that he could recall. Usually he was the one making all the moves and he wasn’t all that keen to be on the receiving end with a woman who wasn’t even supposed to be here.
“Xavier LeBlanc,” he announced and cleared his inexplicably ragged throat. “Current director of LBC. Val is just passing through.”
She flicked her attention from Val to Xavier. This was the part where he had to stand and stick his hand out. Laurel Dixon clasped it, and when no lightning bolts forked between them, he relaxed an iota. That’s when he made the mistake of letting his gaze rest on her lips. They curved up into a smile and that kicked him in the gut so hard, he felt it in his toes. Yanking his hand free, he sank back into his chair, wondering when, exactly, he’d lost his marbles.
“Two for the price of one,” she said with a laugh that was just as arresting as her face. “I applaud the fact that you have such different hairstyles. Makes it easier to tell you apart.”
Automatically he ran a hand over his closely cropped hair. He wore it that way because it looked professional. The style suited him and the fact that Val’s too-long hair marked him as the rebel twin only worked in Xavier’s favor. “Val gets lost on the way to the barber.”
Despite the fact that he hadn’t meant it as a joke, that made her laugh again, which pretty much solidified his resolve to stop talking. The less she laughed like that, the better.
“We weren’t expecting you,” Val said conversationally and indicated the seat next to him, then waited until Laurel slid into it before taking his own. “Though we’re impressed with your enthusiasm. Right, Xavier?”
Figured that the second after he’d vowed to shut his mouth, Val dragged him right back into the conversation.
“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered. “I would have liked to schedule an interview.”
“Oh, well, of course that would have been the appropriate thing to do,” she admitted with an eye roll that shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was. “But I’m so very interested in the job that I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. So I thought, why wait?”
Why, indeed? “What about directing a food pantry excites you so much?”
“Oh, all of it,” she answered quickly. “I love to help people in need and what better way than through one of the most basic fundamentals? Food is a necessity. I want to feed people.”
“Well said,” Val murmured.
Since his brother could have written that speech word for word, Xavier wasn’t surprised he’d been moved by her passion. It sounded a little too memorized to Xavier’s ear, and his gut had been screaming at him from the moment he’d first handed Val Laurel Dixon’s résumé.
Something about her was off. He didn’t like her. Nor did he like the way she unsettled him. If he had to constantly brace himself to be in her presence, how could they work together?
“Your experience is on the sparse side,” Xavier said and tapped the résumé between them. “What did you do at the women’s shelter that will segue into a services manager at a food pantry?”
Laurel launched into a well-rehearsed spiel about her role, highlighting her project management skills, and wrapped it up by getting into a spirited back-and-forth with Val about some of her ideas for new outreach.
His brother was sold on Laurel Dixon. Xavier could tell. Val had smiled through the entire exchange. Sure enough, after the candidate left, Val crossed his arms and said, “She’s the one.”
“She is so not the one.”
“What? Why not?” Val dismissed that with a wave without waiting for an answer. “She’s perfect.”
“Then you hire her. In three months. I’m still in charge here and I say I want a different candidate.”
“You’re being stubborn for no reason,” Val shot back, and some of the goodwill that had sprung up between them as they navigated the Great Inheritance Switch—as Xavier had been calling it in his head—began to slide away.
His caution had nothing to do with stubbornness and he had plenty of reasons. “She’s got no experience.”
“Are you kidding? Everything she did at the women’s shelter translates. Maybe not as elegantly as you might like, but you only have to deal with her for three months. After that, I’ll be the one stuck with her if she’s the wrong candidate. Humor me.”
Xavier crossed his arms. “There’s something not quite right about Laurel Dixon. I can’t put my finger on it. You didn’t sense that, too?”
“No. She’s articulate and enthusiastic.” The look Val shot him was part sarcasm and part pity. “Are you sure you’re not picking up on the fact that she’s not an emotionless robot like you?”
Ha. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. But obviously Val had no clue about what really went on beneath Xavier’s skin. Xavier just had a lot of practice at hiding what was going on inside. Edward LeBlanc had frowned on weakness, and in his mind, emotions and weakness went hand in hand.
“Yeah, that must be it.”
Val rolled his eyes at Xavier’s refusal to engage. “This is not the corporate world. We don’t hire people based on how well they rip apart their prey here in nonprofit land. You need someone to replace Marjorie, like, yesterday. Unless you have a line of other options hidden away in the potato closet, you’ve got your new hire.”
The damage was done. Now Xavier couldn’t readily discount Laurel Dixon as a candidate, though the barb had hit its mark in a wholly different way than Val probably even realized. No, this wasn’t the corporate world and his raging uncertainty might well be rearing its ugly head here.
His father had done a serious number on him with this switcheroo. Xavier was only just coming to realize how many chunks of his confidence were missing as a result. How much of his inability to take an applicant at face value had to do with that?
Everything was suspect as a result.
“I’ll deal with Laurel Dixon if that pleases your majesty,” he told Val. “But I’m telling you up front. I don’t trust her. She’s hiding something and if it comes back to bite you, I’m going to remind you of this conversation.”
Odds were good it was going to come back to bite Xavier long before it affected Val, who would leave to go back to the world of sane, logical, corporate politics in a few minutes. Xavier, on the other hand, would be working side by side for the next three months with a new services manager who made his skin hum when he looked at her.
He had a feeling he’d be spending a lot of time avoiding Laurel Dixon in order to protect himself, because that was what he did. No one was allowed to get under his skin and no one got an automatic place on Xavier’s list of people he trusted.
Hopefully she liked hard work and thrived on opportunities to prove herself. Xavier was going to give her both.
Copyright © 2018 by Kat Cantrell