Page 23 of Stained
“You know where I live, of course. Your assistant already tracked me down there.”
“It was easy enough to pull it from your personnel file. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” The woman had already used her power once to rope Alicia into sex. What was a second or third time? “Besides. There are some things I want to talk to you about as well.”
“Oh?” Danica leaned back again. “Care to give me a preview?”
“I’ll wait, thank you.”How the fuck do I say “PAY ME” without sounding like a desperate escort?Not that Alicia was seriously entertaining the idea. Not like that. Except if Danica was offering to wine and dine her in return for sex, there were definitely ways she could flip that further in her favor. “I’m looking forward to a date with the great Danica Moreau, I must admit. What did you have in mind?”
“Dinner, of course. Then whatever strikes my fancy.”
“Your fancy, huh?”
The driver rounded the back of the car again, opening the door beside Alicia. Sunlight blinded her. “I think you’ll find it easier if we follow my whim, Ms. Colbert.” Those were Danica’s parting words as the driver escorted her out of the limo. “I thank you for your time, as always. And I look forward to seeing you on Friday. If there are any changes, you’ll be sure to hear from my assistant.”
The whole situation was nuts. How many girls could say that rich, hot billionaires tracked them down with standoffish assistants who only cared about their paychecks as opposed to what kind of fucked up hanky-panky went on right in front of them? Or at least she hoped Sarah and Nigel Clayborn were not interested in what their boss was up to. She probably paid for their indifference.
Alicia watched as Danica’s bodyguard and assistants got back in the limo and took off. The other men in suits returned to a black sedan and followed the limo. When she walked back into the restaurant, Alicia met Maddie and Scott, both of whom gave her reverent looks while navigating the early dinner rush. Alicia hopped right in. No way was she going to linger onstrange thoughts of Danica and her stranger ideas of dating and romance. If Alicia could even call it that.
Chapter 8
Candice was beside herself when Alicia announced she was going on a date with Danica in three days. She was 100% convinced that Alicia would be whisked away to the opera or a showing on Broadway. Thus, it was only natural that they spent all of Wednesday night going through Alicia’s closet and finding the perfect, upscale outfit for her to wear.
Suffice to say, it all sucked.
Sure, Alicia had collected some nice clothes over the years, but none of them wasdate with Danica Moreaumaterial. Too bad she and Candice weren’t the same size. Trying to fit into one of Candice’s size two monstrosities would be like trying to cram herself into a corset.My breasts and hips ain’t that big, but she’s got less than I do!
“No, no, no.” Candice had created a large pile of silk and cotton on Alicia’s bed. Who was going to put it all away? “Don’t you have anything by a designer? Like Chanel?”
Alicia slowly shook her head. “Who can afford that?”
“Danica Moreau, that’s who. Probably affords some designers we can’t even conceptualize right now!”
Unless Danica had plans to buy Alicia some clothes during their date, however, they had to work with what they had.
Alicia returned home on Thursday after an afternoon shift at Blue Bird. Ever since Danica made her grand entrance into one of her family’s holdings, people had treated Alicia differently. Especially Scott. They got along fine before that, but the guy was as fake as some of the tits Candice saw on her sets. Now that it had been established that she had ties with one of the big kahunas upstairs? She was looking to get those good weekend shifts sooner rather than later.
Still didn’t save her from the hell that was her bedroom. Someone had never bothered to put it away after Candice was done destroying everything Alicia had stored over the years.
Turned out that was the least of her concerns when she arrived home.
“What the hell!” Someone had helped themselves into her apartment. Not anyone, either. This was not a burglar, or a home invasion, or something as nefarious as any of those. While the person – people! – in the apartment certainly had no right to be there, they probably thought they did. As soon as a tycoon’s money greased their hands, they went where bade.
Apparently, a team of stylists was told to come to Alicia and Candice’s apartment.
Candice wasn’t home yet. If she had been, surely she would’ve texted Alicia about the woman and man tearing up the bedrooms to get a feel for “what they have to work with.” Alicia happened to walk in as a tall, broad man in a lavender suit asked, “Is this a joke?”
“Um, hi.” So much for her plan of grabbing a cranberry juice and watching Candice’s recorded episodes ofGold Rush. “Can I help you? What are you doing in my freakin’ house?”
The woman, who had hair so blond it bordered on white, stood up from the couch and extended a soft hand to Alicia. “I’m Rayne. Ms. Moreau sent us.”
“Rayne, huh?”
The stylist pretended she didn’t hear that. “She’s asked us to help you dress for tomorrow’s meeting.” Meeting? Were they going to discuss stocks and bonds over their candlelit dinner? “I can see why now.”
Such was her summation of Alicia as she took in the Blue Bird uniform.Polyester not good enough for you, huh?Alicia couldn’t argue, really. It itched like the devil, and was such a monster to get stains out of. She always had stains. Even as a hostess, she was getting ketchup, snot, and the public’s judgment spilled on her. There wasn’t enough Clorox in the world.
Had these people ever seen a bottle of Clorox before? Probably not. Why bother when a team of dry cleaners was at your disposal?
