Priceless: Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novel (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Back at work
. 

Maribel had always loved her job,
loved the department store, loved working as a sales clerk.  She took pride in
the fact that she had worked her way up from folding socks and underwear to
working at the fine jewelry counter where she cared about every piece of
jewelry and every sale—as if it was an expression of herself.  It had been a
long hard road and she had done it all by herself.  She arrived early and left
late every day because her job was the one thing that gave her an unlimited
feeling of security because it was the one thing that was truly hers.  The
department store depended on her to be there each day, and Maribel liked
feeling needed.  It wasn’t just a paycheck for her.  For ten years, it had been
her life.

As she walked through the Grand
Foyer, it felt different now.  Sadness and disappointment weigh heavy on her
heart. She passed by the lingerie section, and tried to dismiss her affair with
Miles in the dressing room from her mind.  It suddenly felt like a shameful
lack of judgment.  Crystal was there, restocking nylon packages into the
shelves.

“Good morning…” Maribel forced a
smile, then noted how Crystal failed to greet her back. 
It was early.  Crystal
probably hadn’t had her morning coffee
.  Instead, Maribel noticed how
Crystal’s eyes tracked her as she slipped behind the jewelry counter.  She
glanced across the Grand Foyer and noted how most of the girls were looking
over at her. 
Had they heard about Miles and her?   Did they all know… somehow?
 
With dread, Maribel considered the possibility of everyone finding out about
her affair with Miles.  She knew it wasn’t a matter of if Miles would come to
see her there.  It was a matter of when. 

She moved to the register and
attempted to clock into her shift.  Her employee code failed to work.  Maribel
tried again.  ERROR.

“Good morning, Maribel.”

Maribel looked up.  “Thomas,
perfect timing.  My employee code isn’t working for some reason… could you clock
me in?”

Maribel pulled off her coat, scarf,
and ear muffs and settled her purse under the register cabinet.  When she
finished, she turned to begin her routine inspection of the jewelry cases, but
stopped when she realized Thomas had failed to sign her in.

“Thomas?” she said with concern.  He
was staring at her with grave eyes.

“I don’t know how to say this,
Maribel, so I’m just going to say it…” his trademark glee was absent from his
voice.  Later, Maribel would only remember the foreboding look on his face.

“The department store is
investigating a series of charges from your register during your shift.  A
customer made a formal complaint that she viewed several necklaces but decided
against purchasing them.  Apparently, the items were rung up on her credit card
and never properly credited.”

Maribel felt the blood slowly drain
from her cheeks. 
Gillian
.  Her mind whispered the name, but she could
barely recall the interaction. 

“There must be some mistake,”
Maribel floundered.  “She purchased two… no, three necklaces, but then returned
all of them.  I remember refunding all three purchases.”

Maribel stopped, suddenly wondering
if she had made a mistake and failed to properly refund the final necklace. 
She couldn’t remember.  It had only been a few days ago, but so much had
happened since then.  Maribel held her head.

“There were two refunds, but the
third purchase was never refunded.  The customer claims she never purchased the
third necklace in the end, but the charge was still authorized on her card and the
necklace is out of inventory.”

“What?” Maribel exclaimed.  She
rushed to the counter and peered into the necklace display.  The multi-colored
gemstones necklace was gone.  How had Maribel missed that?  She suddenly felt
sick.

“It must be some kind of mistake,”
Maribel repeated, unable to offer a better explanation.

“I know it must be, honey,” Thomas
moved to touch her hand, “but this kind of thing is serious.  So you can’t come
back until they’ve formally investigated the complaint, reviewed the security
camera videos, and put you in the clear.  I’m sorry, but you’ll have to pack
your things up.”

“Thomas?  What do you mean?”

“The department store has placed
you on temporary suspension. I have to send you home.”

Maribel stared at Thomas, then
shifted her eyes across the Grand Lobby.  All her co-workers were watching her
from afar.  Everyone already knew, but no one had warned her.  No one pulled
her aside before she had arrived at the jewelry station to prepare her for the
devastation.  For ten years, the department store had been her second home, her
family, her life.  But not today.  Today, they were all cutting her all loose
like a frayed string.  She was disposable, expendable, despite the fact that
her commitment to them had been constant and dependable for the past ten years. 

Numb with shock, Maribel obeyed
Thomas and quietly packed up her things—her extra pair of flats, her hair brush,
her tooth brush, her ladybug slippers—then put on her coat, scarf, and ear
muffs.  Thomas escorted her through the Grand Lobby like a criminal.  Maribel
was careful not to look at anyone and no one said anything to her—not a small
word of consolation or even a silent wave goodbye.  Maribel pushed through the
revolving doors and back out into the bleak winter cold.  Twilight muted the afternoon
light and dampened the city’s verve.  A brisk gust of wind swept against her
back and whipped through her clothes, deepening the sting of being completely
betrayed and abandoned.  She had lost many things over the course of her life—her
mother, her carefree spirit, her own ambitious dreams for her future—but never
had she lost so much of her own pride in everything she had accomplished than
she did on that day because everything she had accomplished was now suddenly
gone.

Chapter Eighteen

            Miles flipped his gold pen against the
glass top of his desk.  He wondered why he bothered to come to work each
morning. 
Because he had nowhere else to go
.  He owned nine downtown
properties, and still, he felt like he was an aimless stranger passing along
the city streets.  He was restless, incomplete.  Even his own penthouse
apartment no longer provided him refuge. 
There was nothing but the tastes, smells,
and memories of her
.  Miles flipped his pen again.  It caught the edge of
his desk and flicked onto the floor.  He gazed upon it, but did not pick it
up.  He had waited three days before going to see her at the department store. 
He wanted to give her space.  Let her come to him.  But he had misjudged her. 
Three
days had been too long
.   When he finally worked up the nerve to visit her,
she had already left her job.
Personal reasons
.  He had been given a
vague answer without any hints about how to find her.  She had simply
disappeared.  Disappeared from his life. 
They had been four magical days of
happiness for him
, Miles thought,
and an entire decade of watching her
from afar
.  Now, she was simply gone, and none of Miles’ wealth or
properties or connections could bring her back to him.

He reached down to retrieve his
pen, but stopped when his cell phone rang.

G-A-R-Y.

Miles shifted his gaze out the
window and onto all the anonymous windows of the adjacent skyscrapers.  Miles
had avoided Gary since the party.  He knew he had pissed away the deal with
Olson, but he didn’t care.  None of it mattered.  Not Gary.  Not Olson.  Not
Gillian.  Not his damn buildings.  The only thing that mattered was something
he couldn’t have, and it consumed him every minute of the day, and tortured him
every moment of the night.  What had started with flirtatious curiosity—his
first interaction with Maribel on the Friday before Valentine’s Day—had turned
into a mission to prove his self-worth. 
And he had failed
.  Miles retrieved
the pen and flipped it again.  He had never failed at anything in his life
until now.  And now, his failure to prove himself to her—his failure to redeem
himself to her—threatened to overtake his every thought and his very soul.

U-N-K-N-O-W-N.

His cell phone rang again and
displayed the anonymous caller.  It could be Gary, trying from a different
line.  Or maybe it was Don Olson.  Miles considered both, and watched
reluctantly as the screen blinked with each ring.  Suddenly, he felt inflated
with hope. 
Maribel
.  He swiped up the phone and answered with
anticipation.  Then, he fell silent and flipped his pen.

 “Yes, tell me what you’ve found.”
Miles heard the cracks in his own dry voice. 

“Sorry Mr. Braxton-Worth.  Just
checking in.  Still nothing new to report.”

“I see,” Miles replied with
disappointment.  It was the private detective who he had hired to find her. 

“I’ve been watching for her at
night at her home address, but she hasn’t been in or out of there in days.  Plus,
the cell phone number that I dug up for her was disconnected three days again. 
She’s got no other family or relatives in the area that I can track down.”

“I understand,” Miles said, his
eyes falling onto his cuff links and undone tie that he had removed hours ago.

“Do you want me to keep looking?”

“Yes, keep looking.  Send me the bill
at the end of this week, regardless of what you find.  But if you find her,
I’ll pay double.”

“Yes, sir…alright then.”

Miles hung up and shifted with
discomfort.  It had been his last hope.  At the very least, he thought he could
go back to her apartment and meet her there—one final time.  But all the
signs—quitting her job, discounting her phone, avoiding her apartment— were
telling him the same thing: Maribel didn’t want to be found by him. 

Miles shifted in his swivel chair.  He
felt a metallic prick against his skin through his silk pants.  He reached down
into his pockets, and pulled out the tear-drop ruby earrings. He suddenly
remembered their first lunch, and later, how she gave him back the earrings after
their first night together.  Miles intentionally had chosen to wear the same
suit from that night and subsequent morning, now, the earrings clung inside the
lining of his pocket like two stubborn lovers, unwilling to surrender or
separate themselves from each other.  Miles gazed down at the earrings in his
palm.
 He would not surrender either
.  Motivated by a new sense of
urgency, he picked up the phone and dialed his long-time friend with haste,
then confirmed the hour with his Rolex watch.  It was almost lunchtime, and he
was in the mood for a hot dog—fully loaded.

Chapter Nineteen

For the first few days since her
break-up with Miles, Maribel hid from the world, reading books all day long in
her bed and two-day old pajamas.  She only left her apartment in the evening,
sulking across the landing and entering into Emma Jean’s apartment for a
home-cooked meal and a shoulder to cry on.  Then, she would return to her bed
and lay there for hours, watching the shadows shift across the ceiling with the
glow of the moon and trying hard to forget about everything that had happened. 
Occasionally, she would hear a bump in the hallway or a thud of the foyer door,
and glance over from under her covers, wondering if it was Miles, seeking her
out one last time.  Maribel would replay the fantasy of a reunion with him over
and over again in her mind. 
If he truly loved her, he would come…
She
would lay awake for hours until darkness and disappointment pulled her into a
reluctant sleep.  Miles never came, which only served to confirm everything
that Maribel had feared was true about him—and about them.

Now, Maribel drifted down Michigan
Avenue like a candy wrapper caught in the wind.  She ebbed forward and
backwards, window shopping along each storefront.  Her black wool coat and ear
muffs protected her from the bitter cold, and the patches of ice along the
sidewalk moved her in zigzags along the sidewalk. 
It had been almost a week
now
, she pondered and counted the days since she had last been downtown. 
She couldn’t bring herself to go all the way to the Loop where she risked
running into former co-workers, and of course—him.  Instead, she decided to meander
along the Magnificent Mile, the way she always did during her lunch hour, and
browse all the window displays of the luxury jewelers.  It had been a week
since she had been forced to leave her job, and she was told it could be
several weeks more before they could bring her back. 
Several weeks, if at
all
.  Maribel had two thousand dollars in savings—just enough to cover rent
and minimal expenses for the next two months.  She disconnected her cell phone,
her cable TV, and her dreams of buying a new microwave because if there was one
thing that Maribel had learned over the course of the past week, it was how to
survive the unexpected.

HELP WANTED.

Maribel spotted the inconspicuous,
hand-drawn sign into the corner of a storefront window.  She looked up, and
recognized the iconic clock entrance and its revolving door, crowned with
elegant beveled lettering—TIFFANY & CO.  Maribel glanced back at the HELP
WANTED sign.  She would clean bathrooms and mop the floors if it offered her
the chance to move up into a sales clerk position at the most premier jeweler
in the world.   
Maybe, just maybe…
Maribel had never dared to step foot
inside the store, but now, she took in a deep breath and pushed through its revolving
doors.  Its bright airy interior lured her deeper into its first floor
showroom, lined with oversized glass cases.  Maribel cast her eyes onto the
stunning jewelry; she saw dozens and dozens of intricate diamond necklaces and bejeweled
designer bracelets from some of Chicago’s most preeminent estate collections. 
She even saw a scintillating gem-studded tiara, fit for a queen.  They were
showy pieces, intended to allure and awe potential customers and signal the
glamorous sales experience that awaited them.

“May I help you?”

Maribel turned towards the voice,
as if she had been caught someplace where she didn’t belong.  The grey-haired gentleman
peered at her through his bifocals from behind the counter.  He wore a dark
grey suit and silver bow-tie, and slowly moved along the jewelry cases towards
her.  He scanned Maribel’s modest coat and ear muffs and waited—less for an
answer and more for an explanation.

“Hello, I’m looking to speak with
the store manager.  I saw your HELP WANTED sign outside, and thought that
maybe…well, I wanted to inquire about the position.”

“I see,” the man arched his brow. 
“You can speak with me.”

Maribel suddenly flushed,
unprepared.  “Hello, sir.  Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said, his eyes steadying
upon her ear muffs.  Maribel read his mind and quickly removed them.

“Do you have any retail sales
experience?” he asked.

The question surprised Maribel. “Well,
yes, of course.  I used to work as a sales clerk in the fine jewelry section of
the department store in the Fields building.”

The man’s eyes flashed, as if he
had dismissed Maribel before quickly reconsidering her. “I see… for how long?”
he probed.

“Ten years total… eight years in
fine jewelry department.”

 “And now?”

Maribel had failed to anticipate
the question.  She fumbled for a response, then simply settled on the truth. 
“I’ve moved on, and now, I’m looking for a change.”

The man stroked his silver goatee,
as if he was assessing Maribel’s age and manners.

“Well, I must tell you…you’re in
luck, young lady.  I’m looking for a new sales clerk to start immediately.  We’re
understaffed at the moment, and unfortunately, I cannot spend my own time
manning the jewelry counters.  When can you start?”

Maribel wondered how best to show
she was eager, but not desperate.  “Tomorrow?”

The man nodded; it had been the
right answer.  “Allow me to gather up the proper paperwork in the back.  You
may fill it out here, and we’ll try you out now—today—to see how it goes.  My
name is Charles.”

“Maribel…Maribel Martinez.”

Charles nodded.  “Nice to meet
you.  May I take your coat?”

Maribel couldn’t believe how fast
everything was happening.  She flushed and considered what she was wearing
before removing her jacket.  She remembered she had settled on a skirt and knit
tights rather than jeans.  Something about venturing downtown always made her
dress up more than usual.  Then, she remembered she was wearing her vintage
Madonna T-shirt under her black cardigan sweater.  She handed off her coat, ear
muffs, and purse to Charles, who settled her belongings behind the counter and
turned to disappear into the back room.  Maribel used the opportunity to button
up her cardigan sweater and smooth down her hair. When Charles returned, he
placed an application and pen on of the glass countertop in front of her.  She peered
down at all the gorgeous necklaces and earrings in the display case.  She
couldn’t believe her luck; she was actually applying for a sales clerk position
at one of her most favorite jewelers in the world.

“It looks like you have your first
customer.  Let’s see how you perform in action.”

The man nodded over to a heavyset woman
who pushed through the revolving doors, and charged up to Maribel.  Maribel
dropped her application and pen under the counter and felt herself start to perspire.
How was she going to navigate unfamiliar jewelry cases with luxury jewelry
pieces, brands, and price tags that she had never seen before?
 Maribel had
no idea.

“Excuse me, do you have bathrooms
here?”

Maribel exhaled.  
This
—she
could handle. “No, not public bathrooms here, but just two doors down, you’ll
find public bathrooms in the drugstore on the corner.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” the
woman heaved with relief and turned herself back into the street.

Maribel glanced over to Charles,
who had returned his attention to his inventory sheet.  Sensing her gaze, he peered
up and smiled.  “Every interaction is often not as glamorous as you might
expect.”

Maribel smiled in return.  She
liked Charles.  She liked his calm demeanor and his smooth voice.  It was such
a change from Thomas’ dramatic flare and the chaotic energy of the department
store.  She settled into her position behind the counter, and waited for the next
opportunity to show Charles why she was the right fit for the job.

Her eyes suddenly fell down upon
several diamond tennis bracelets.  She immediately spotted a double link
baguette diamond bracelet—one similar to the bracelet she had received from
Miles.  As if in a dream, she heard his confident voice, greeting to her.

“Hello, Maribel.”

Maribel glanced up and saw him
standing before her.  It wasn’t a dream; it was a surreal reality.  Everything
around her went strangely silent as he gazed down at her with his searing blue
eyes.  He looked impossibly handsome in his navy pinstripe wool suit and crisp
white shirt. 

“What are you doing here?” Maribel
gazed at him in shock.

“I’m looking to find the right gift
for someone,” he replied, slowly, cautiously, his voice filled with cool
restraint.

Maribel glanced over at Charles,
who eyed her from afar, waiting to see how she would handle a serious buyer.

Suddenly, Maribel remembered that
Miles was a regular customer. 
Someone new.  He’s already shopping for
someone new.
  Maribel lowered her gaze and dug deep into her inner core. “How
may I assist you?”

“Well, I don’t know the right
approach for this gift, so it’s a bit of a challenge.”

Maribel heard his words.  The irony
was too cruel.  It had been a script—all of it—and now, she was supposed to
help him purchase a new gift for his next conquest.

 “Something personal or
professional?” Maribel tossed at him.  She wanted him to realize—at the very
least—that she was only playing along for show.

“Personal.  Deeply personal.”

 “I see…” Maribel said, controlling
her anger and trembling hands.  “Well, you can’t go wrong with earrings.”
Maribel started forward, seeking out a way to distance herself from him, then she
wondered how she was going to wade through the next minute, much less an entire
sales transaction.

“Earrings,” he repeated.  “Perhaps.
Or perhaps something less conventional and more unexpected.”

Maribel glared up at him. “Sometimes
conventionality and expectation are appreciated more than superficial frivolity.”

Miles smiled. “Yes, I can
understand why you might believe that to be the case.  So perhaps something
that also conveys a message.”

Maribel glared at Miles. She hated
his games.

“Like what kind of a message?”

“A symbol of pursuing something…intimate
and long-term.”

Bastard
. 
It had only been a week, and she had already been cast aside for someone Miles
was now willing to commit to in a way that he couldn’t commit to her.

 “Intimacy can be fleeting and misleading,”
she said with bitter eyes.

“Yes, until it’s gone and you
realize how much you can’t live without it.”

Their eyes locked.  Maribel glanced
over at Charles.  She could feel his eyes, watching her. 

“I see that you’re a bit
undecided,” Maribel intentionally raised her voice.  “Perhaps you might be
interested in browsing our fashion accessories.  I believe that’s on the second
floor.”

She pushed Miles away with her
glare.  He needed to leave, and he needed to leave now.  She no longer was his
possession.  She no longer felt the desire to submit herself to him.  And she
no longer was interested in wrapping her emotions around a man who bought fine
jewelry for every woman who he seduced, but failed to realize that nothing was
more important than her own dignity and self-worth.

Charles suddenly appeared next to
her.

“Is there something that I can
assist you with?”

“Yes, I’m certain now of what I’d
like to buy,” Miles said, his long arm stretching out across the adjacent glass
jewelry case.

“Very good, sir. Any one in
particular?”

“Yes, this one,” he pointed down to
a gorgeous two-carat diamond ring in an antique platinum setting.

“Excellent choice,” Charles nodded
and opened the case with his keys.

Maribel stared at Miles.  He gazed
back at her and lifted the diamond ring from its case.  “I’d like to see it
worn.  Would you mind?”

Miles waited for Maribel to
consent.  She refused with defiant eyes.

Charles moved towards her and
slipped the ring onto her finger. “Please…” he encouraged her.

Maribel looked down at the ring—it
was stunning, and breathtaking, and so clearly meant for someone else that a
wave of renewed heartbreak overwhelmed every part of Maribel’s being. 
Don’t
cry, don’t cry… not now, not here, not in front of him
.  She cleared her
throat and channeled all her frustration and humiliation into her eyes. 
Finally, Maribel lifted up her hand and flashed the ring at Miles, as if she
was giving him the finger. 

Miles saw the gestured and
smirked.  He reached out and seized her hand before towing it into his chest
and against his heart.

“Maribel, I miss you more deeply
than you can possibly comprehend because I can’t comprehend it myself.  But I’m
begging you to please give us another chance because what we have together is
more precious than anything I could ever buy for you—more precious than the
most expensive diamond or the rarest gemstone.  And I can’t claim to be a
perfect man… God knows, I have made serious mistakes in my life, but I can
strive to be a better one with you in my life.   Please…I’m not asking for you
to grant me the opportunity to commit myself to you in the future.  I’m simply
asking you to grant me the opportunity to commit myself to you—here and now.”