‘Dom, they’ve sent you menus for the charity weekend so you can pick out your favorite food. Should I do it for you?’ my assistant Charlene asked.
‘I’m not attending. I’m sure I told you that.”
“Damn it. I’d hoped you’d change your mind.”
I looked up at her. “Why?”
She shrugged. “It’s good for you to go out in the world and not stay holed up in here all the time.”
I leaned back in my chair, pushing a stack of papers to one side. I could look at them after Charlene left the office.
‘Who in PR has time to attend?’
‘I’ve made you a list.’ She immediately put it on the desk. ‘If you tell me by the end of the week who you want to go, I’ll make all the arrangements.’
‘Anything else?’ I asked.
‘No, that was all.’
I surveyed the list. It contained four names—the usual suspects. I was going to decide by the end of the day; I didn’t need to drag my feet.
Last night had been insane. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something as spontaneous as pretending to be Reese’s date. It felt good to save her from that asshole, and I was glad the douchebag backed off. He hadn’t approached Reese for the rest of the evening.
After Charlene left, I began reading through my stack of papers again. But after I read the first three sheets twice, I realized I wasn’t focusing.
I tapped the pen against the desk. Reese said she could get that guy off her back by herself, but it hadn’t seemed that way last night. He was damn persistent. When she spilled that champagne on me, she’d seemed like a no-nonsense woman who wasn’t going to take shit from anyone. That’s why I’d been so shocked to see her cower when her ex popped up. But some people knew our vulnerabilities, giving them the power to hurt us. We all had our weak spots. And Malcolm was obviously Reese’s.
Damn it. I have more important things to focus on than someone else’s drama.
I opened a blank email on my laptop screen and began writing to Charlene. I’d intended to tell her to send Paul to the charity weekend. Instead, I wrote one sentence: Get me Reese Maxwell’s number.
After that, I returned to my stack of reports. Surprisingly, it was much easier to focus. At least until Charlene burst into my office one hour later.
I looked straight at her. ‘You got it?’
She smiled nervously. ‘Uh, no.’
I straightened up. ‘Why not?’
‘She’s even more private than you.’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She doesn’t have any social media profiles.’
‘I don’t care about social media profiles. I need her number.’
‘See, the funny thing is, if people don’t even have a social media footprint, they’re not likely to leave their number lying around.’
‘She works for… or owns Maxwell Hotels. Follow that lead.’
‘I tried to. No one is giving out any numbers.’
‘Try following the lead through the charity’s coordinator.’
She gave me yet another nervous smile. ‘I tried that too. She’s under strict instructions not to give Ms. Maxwell’s number to anyone else.’
I was intrigued. Why the need for privacy? The Maxwell name was an important part of the city’s past. I’d heard it a lot growing up. They were royalty in Chicago even today, but most people with that kind of notoriety basked in it. It was a shock that the Maxwells didn’t.
‘Fine. I’ll get to the bottom of it.’
‘I know you can do whatever you put your mind to, but I think this might be beyond even your powers.’
‘Leave it to me,’ I repeated. I already had a plan. ‘Close the door when you go. Thanks, Charlene.’
‘Sure.’
I could let this drop, but that wasn’t my style. Then again, I couldn’t understand why I was obsessing over it. What did it matter if I went to the charity weekend or not? I didn’t know Reese Maxwell. I’d only met the woman yesterday, for God’s sake. But I couldn’t let it go. I had this odd need to protect her.
I looked up the hotel’s contact information. There was a general phone number, and I immediately called it. I’d probably have to fight my way to Reese, but I wasn’t going to let this go.
‘Maxwell Hotels. How may I help you?’ a friendly female voice said.
‘Hello! I’d like to speak to Reese Maxwell.’
‘I can take a message.’
‘Not a message. I want her direct line.’
‘I’m sorry, that’s not possible.’
How the hell did they get any business done if they were so hard to reach?
‘I’ll wait on this line or any other line while you check with her. Tell her it’s Dominic Waldorf.”
A little gasp followed my sentence.
‘How do you know Reese?’ The woman got points for not immediately fawning over me.
‘I met her last night at the charity event. I sat next to her. If you tell her my name, she’ll confirm it.’
‘Sure. Is the number you’re calling from your personal one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure you want to wait? I can just have Reese call you.’
‘I’ll wait.’ In my experience, people moved faster when they had the additional pressure of someone waiting.
‘I’ll put you on hold.’
I put my phone on speakerphone when the background music began and set it on the desk. A few minutes later, the line disconnected. Then my phone rang. I answered immediately.
‘Dominic?’ Reese sounded incredulous.
I took the phone off speakerphone, putting it to my ear. “Hello, Reese.”
‘I was shocked when they told me it was you. Why would you even go through reception?’
‘It was the only contact information I could find. I think your number is more guarded than the president’s.’
She laughed, and I wondered what Reese was like when she wasn’t stressed out from having her ex hovering around.
‘Yes, we do make it hard to reach us. So, why are you calling? Oh my God, I forgot. I offered to pay for your dry cleaning yesterday.’
It took me a few seconds to remember what she was talking about. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.’
‘I feel guilty about it.’
‘Forget about it.’ My tone was almost cutting.
‘All right, so then why are you calling?’
That was a good question. Why had I gone through all the trouble of getting to her?
‘I want to talk to you about the charity weekend.’
‘Really? Because I’m just trying to forget it’s coming up.’
I rose from my chair, leaning against the desk and glancing out the window at the Miracle Mile. ‘Someone from my PR team will show up instead of me.”
‘I figured that. You mentioned you wouldn’t go.’ She sounded confused. ‘There’s no rule saying you can’t have someone attend in your place.’
‘Then why aren’t you doing that too? I get that it’s all for a good cause, but if you send a PR person, you’re still contributing.’
She sighed. ‘The organizers say I have a knack for making people part with their money. And, well, why not use my skill for a good cause?’
Reese Maxwell was a fighter.
‘Listen, I have an idea. Why don’t I show up for the weekend, too, and we can continue the ruse every time your shithead of an ex is around.’ Yet another impulsive moment. It seemed to be a thing where Reese was concerned. It was frankly disconcerting.
‘You’re not serious,’ she said. ‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘I don’t know. Seeing him talk to you like that rubbed me the wrong way.’
‘You don’t even know me, Dominic.’
The hesitancy in her voice challenged me. Suddenly, I really wanted this weekend with her.
‘You can call me Dom.’
‘Dom, hmm? That sounds much better.’
Fuck me. I liked the sound of my name coming out of her mouth.
‘This is insane,’ she continued. ‘I mean, I’d obviously like to see Malcolm’s face when he sees us together again, but what’s in it for you?’
‘Honestly, it’ll help me too. The press, the women, people in general will get off my back if they think I’m seeing someone.’
“But how will they know?”
‘Trust me, word spreads. I promised myself that I’d never date anyone with a high profile, but they don’t know that. If people see me around you, they’ll back off. The season for Christmas parties is approaching pretty fast. It’ll do me good if word gets around that I’m seeing someone.”
“This is the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had. I’m not even sure what to say.” Just say you want it. ‘I mean, if you’re sure. I loved the look on Malcolm’s face. And the weekend is going to be fun. I actually looked over the program. There’s going to be an archery contest and—”
“You’re joking!”
‘Oh, you didn’t look at it?’
‘No. That doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest.’
She laughed. ‘I can’t decide if you’re a knight in shining armor or a total grump. Or maybe you’re both?’ She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me, or so I hoped. Because what did that even mean?
The more I thought about going, the more sense it made. I had invitations to a few Christmas parties this year where I couldn’t send a representative, so being seen with Reese this weekend would benefit me too.
‘Okay, you know what? Let’s do this. I was trying to think of excuses as to why my hot new boyfriend wasn’t there, but now it seems I won’t have to.’
‘You think I’m hot?’ I asked.
She snorted. ‘Um, hello, of course you are. Why do you think all those women are accosting you?’
‘Because I’m Dominic Waldorf.’
‘Yeah, that too. But you’re also sexy as hell. As your fake date, I’m more than entitled to say that—from an objective point of view, of course.’
I burst out laughing. Talking to this woman was the highlight of my day.
‘Want to drive together? It’s two hours away,” I suggested.
‘Sure. And on the way we can hash out the details.’
‘What details?’ I moved back to my chair.
‘We need a story.’
‘For what?’
‘How we started dating, how we met, and so on,’ she explained.
‘I didn’t realize this would be so involved.’
‘Well, if we’re doing this, I don’t want it to blow up in my face. I couldn’t live with Malcolm knowing I made up a boyfriend.’
‘You didn’t. Technically, I did.’
‘Same thing.’
‘Sure. We can sort it out on the drive.’
‘Great. This is your number?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
“I’ll save it.”
“And I’ll save yours.”
‘Oh, this isn’t mine. It’s one of the hotel lines.’
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘No. I thought there might be a possibility that someone was posing as you.’
‘Why?’
She sighed. ‘Everyone knew you were sitting next to me. The press has deceived me often enough. I’ll text you my number.’
‘Great. Have a productive day, Reese.’
She laughed again. ‘That’s how you say goodbye to people?’
‘That’s as good a goodbye as any,’ I retaliated.
‘Oh, Dom. Well, I wish you a great and happy day.’
‘That works too.’ I shook my head, laughing as we disconnected the call.
Two seconds later, my phone beeped with an incoming message.
Unknown: This is my number. Reese.
I felt triumphant. Reese Maxwell didn’t give her number to anyone, but she’d entrusted it to me.
