Weekend with the Tycoon (4 page)

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

She didn’t realize he’d come back for her and could barely hear him over the thump of the rotors.

“I’m not getting on that thing,” Samantha said. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can and you will. We have an agreement.”

“You said nothing about a helicopter,” she said, her voice jerky with panic. “I’ll drive and meet you there.”

She braced herself because he looked angry. Not even her father had glared at her like that when she’d backed into a wall when she was sixteen.

“I have a Prius,” she said shakily and waited for him to fire her or…

He laughed.

“A Prius.”

“Yes,” she said cautiously.

“Does it float?”

“What?” She was starting to hyperventilate. She could feel it. Her vision was black around the edges. This had happened on a school trip to New York on the Empire State Building.

“We’re going to an island.”

She swallowed hard. Island. It was as if her life flashed in front of her eyes. No chance to show off her knowledge. Her skills. No promotion. No chance to pitch her ancestry idea.

“I…you’ll have to take the second girl,” she whispered, trying to back away but unable to move, fear keeping her frozen, and the wall blocking escape.

“Too late.”

“I’m afraid of heights,” she confessed as if that weren’t totally obvious.

“Close your eyes.”

“They are closed,” she whispered, too scared to even feel stupid.

“Keep them closed. Do you like swimming?”

“Yes,” she was puzzled about the last question.

“Think of swimming,” he told her and then picked her up.

“What are you…?” She struggled against him, but then she saw the edge of the building and sky and scrunched her eyes shut again.

He strode easily with her across the roof of the building, and Samantha was too scared to move. What if he tripped? Dropped her off the building?

Then she was seated, and she felt the back of his hands brush across her shoulders and breasts, the she heard the click of a seatbelt. Then the door slammed, and it was a lot quieter. She sat upright and fumbled with the seatbelt.

“You can have all the clothes back,” she said. “I don’t want to ride in a helicopter,” she finished on a squeak as the helicopter lifted off from the building.

She scrunched her eyes shut again, and wished she knew a prayer or something. Then she felt his fingers brush her cheeks. Something was placed over her ears, and then she could hear him.

“Keep your eyes closed if you need to. It’s not a long trip.”

She could still feel them moving, flying through the air, and she was trapped, scared and alone.

“I just don’t understand what you want from me, Mr. Putnam,” Samantha said, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t cry, she’d ruin her daytime travel makeup. She just couldn’t help it, she was so scared, so confused. The sun was hot, and they were up so high.

“Calling me Blake would be great for starters,” he said, the irritation plain in his voice. “Here, Samantha, focus on some reading material. This should explain things better. Take some deep breaths, we will be there soon.”

A thick paper card dropped in her lap. Samantha breathed in and out and counted to ten. Counting was good to calm down wasn’t it? Cautiously she opened her eyes and touched the thick cream paper stock. The words were engraved in simple gold script, but Samantha’s fear kept her from reading. All she could feel was luxury.

“I still don’t understand,” she said. It looked like a formal invitation, a wedding invitation. “I thought this was business.”

“It is business,” he said. “Business first. My sister’s wedding is this weekend. She’s my only sister.”

Samantha forced herself to keep her eyes open, to focus on the letters, at least a few of them.

“Obviously I have to attend. And I definitely need to work.”

The pieces began to fall into place, but Samantha couldn’t quite believe the picture they made.

“If I didn’t bring a date, my mother would have set me up again. I cannot deal with any more stupid conversations or artificial set-ups or playing nice with some entitled, vapid society woman,” his voice rang with distaste. “I’m focused on the Daycon deal and as you know, it’s supposed to close next week,” he said. “So you are my date, but really my work assistant for the weekend.”

“We’re going to your sister’s wedding,” she repeated slowly.

“And finishing up the details of the Daycon deal.”

He emphasized the last part to make it sound more reasonable, she supposed.

“Don’t look so shocked. It is business. You’ll have your own room. We’re going to my family’s plantation on Indigo Island. They’ll be some social events of course, which you’ll attend with me as my date, but we will have plenty of time to work.”

“Date? What exactly does being your date mean?” Samantha asked.

She found if she focused on the little details, the faint line in his suit fabric as it stretched across his back, she could ward off motion sickness. But everything he said made her feel more anxious.

“A date. Like we’re dating. But nothing…,” he paused. “I’m not physically demonstrative in public. My family knows that so,” he spread his hands out, fingers wide as if that somehow gave her the answer to her question.

He turned around in his seat so he could face her. Samantha could see her pinched pale features reflected in his Aviators.

“I know it’s a bit different from what you agreed to,” he smiled, but it looked strained. “But it’s really the same deal. Just business. We’ll knock out the presentation. You can swim in the ocean, walk on the beach, have some fun and we’ll have some…meals together. With my family.”

He didn’t sound excited about that part.

“I have no expectations of you other than being pleasant to my family, acting friendly towards me in public, making intelligent conversation and being willing to work on the presentation with me when time permits.”

She nodded. That sounded like business, but she could feel the anger bubble up and surround her. The clothes made more sense now, but that made it worse. He should have been upfront. Why hadn’t he been? There must be more, she thought, heart thumping unevenly even though she wasn’t allowing herself to look beyond the weave in his fabric.

She had to do this now, though. This was her career. She loved her work at Blake Genetics. She’d already been given more responsibility than many of the team members who’d been there longer than she had. But he was a control freak. And manipulative. He hadn’t told her it was a family wedding. That she was a date.

“Are we supposed to have been dating long?” She finally asked after he’d turned around and a long silence stretched between them where he’d spoken exclusively to the pilot on a different channel.

He didn’t answer. She took a deep breath. He was her boss, but he needed her. She wasn’t going to let him push her totally around. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around.

“Aren’t you worried at all about the no – um – relationship clause in the employment agreement?” Samantha asked. “I mean, I know this is pretend, but if Betty in HR hears…”

“I’ll handle Betty,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Besides this is a working relationship. I’m not opening myself up for a lawsuit. Samantha, I do really hope you enjoy yourself. My family is great and the island is amazing. We’ll get the presentation done and the rest is just dress up.” His eyes sparkled a bit, before he turned around and started talking to the pilot again.

She did have plenty of options for dress up, she realized, feeling a spurt of relief. And she’d never been to this Indigo Island before, although she had spent some time in Hilton Head. She focused on the invitation in her hand, trying to learn more about all the activities she would be expected to attend as the pretend date. Why couldn’t he have just been honest, she thought again, angry enough she could scream, so afraid she would be sick. Focus on the invitation, she told herself.

There were three different events planned by Avery Putnam and her husband to be – beach barbeque, rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself. Now she realized why she had all the outfits, the depth of everyone’s deceit, even Raymond’s, and now, her own as she showed up at his family home as his date for a wedding. Weddings were sacred events, Samantha thought. She was crashing Avery’s wedding, lying to his family.

Her heart plummeted into her chest as they shot out over the city, out over the roads, over the buildings and above the rest of her normal life heading east toward the ocean. Looking down she saw golf courses, and the carefully manicured homes and shops and restaurants of Charlotte. Looking into the front seat of the helicopter, all she saw was a controlling man who had tricked her into being his date with the promise of sparkly clothes and access to him to advance her career.

No way they’d be able to keep this quiet. She’d heard all the speculation about others in the office. She’d be the topic of all the office gossips again, that was for sure, as she had suddenly and quite accidentally become Blake Putnam’s paid arm candy for his sister’s wedding weekend. Samantha rummaged in her new purse and found a tissue, using it to wipe below her eyes as the tears softly flowed. She was thankful for the huge sunglasses.

No, she told herself, the roar of the helicopter blades undermining her resolve, this wasn’t a time for sadness. This was a time to be angry. She’d been tricked. Easily tricked, but she was not the person who was wrong. Blake was tricking his family. And once they got to the island, he would need her cooperation to make the trick come off. The realization made the tears finally stop. She dared to open her eyes again, and looked down. She spotted the signature red and white striped lighthouse of Hilton Head and tried to take a deep breath and enjoy the view just as the helicopter shot out over open water.

She closed her eyes again.

I
f she allowed
herself to look down, she would have seen the sparkling blue water of Calibogue Sound. But she couldn’t. The roar of the helicopter propellers filled her ears and her mind was just as loud, wondering what she would do once they landed. What did she want to do? She wanted to scream. Or be sick, as her stomach was dangerously close to it. But neither of those were good options, especially wearing her new outfit, so she decided once they landed, if they landed, she’d never talk to Blake again.

Well, after this weekend. She had to keep her word, to keep her job. And it was better to have a job when looking for one. She felt another burst of anger. She loved her career. The long hours and intellection stimulation energized her. She had great ideas. She didn’t want Blake and his fake date idea to affect her career. But maybe it wouldn’t.

After this weekend, he’d owe her. She wasn’t powerless. If she pulled this off, he’d have to listen to her ideas about the new ancestry testing. And then with her ideas and drive, she’d be promoted. It was just a weekend. She could fake friendliness. She’d pretended confidence in job interviews. She’d projected expertise during negotiations when nerves had fluttered in her stomach. She would just pretend friendliness towards Blake.

She’d always wanted to see how the one percent lived. This weekend would be an education she decided, once she got off this horrible helicopter. Life required attitude, and once she stopped feeling so sick and panicky she was going to charm everyone, including Mr. Too Busy To Find A Real Date.

Really it was a win-win, Samantha told herself as she fingered the wedding invitation. Career win for her. Ego win for her because Ryan would hear about this weekend. And Blake would win because he would have a hard working, smart and ambitious team member who would help him close this Daycon deal with ease.

Promotion here I come.

She needed the promotion. And more money. Since her father had fallen victim to the real estate bubble and lost everything including Samantha’s college funds, he’d eventually succumbed to despair and depression and killed himself. Samantha had been left with grief and then a staggering college loan amount she was barely putting a dent in. She needed to move up the career ladder so she could start saving for other things—a house for starters. She’d prove her value to Mr. Putnam.

“Blake,” she reminded herself. A girlfriend would call him Blake.

She wondered what he would do if she touched him, held his hand in front of his family. The idea gave her a thrill of fear. Would serve him right. Date.

“Still with us?” Blake asked into the mouthpiece, filling her ears with his mumbled voice and reigniting her anger.

“Yes,” Samantha lied, keeping her eyes tightly closed as Blake’s deep laughter filled her ears.

Maybe she’d kiss him in front of Avery or his mother. What would he do then? She almost laughed at the thought of kissing the block of ice. He could hardly push her away without giving up his secret. She’d never have the nerve to do it, but still, she gazed at the back of his head where his dark hair lay so thick and springy and wondered what it felt like. Silky. If she were kissing him, she’d spear her fingers through his hair and let it slide through her fingers. Her palm tingled. Sometimes, her imagination was too vivid.

B
lake and Charlie,
the pilot, were old friends from boarding school, so they’d been catching up most of the flight. Charlie tried to get Blake to talk about his new girl in the backseat, but Blake deflected the conversation. He could imagine Charlie’s curiosity as he hadn’t brought another woman to the island since…. He stopped that train of thought.

Every time Blake glanced behind him, Samantha looked miserable, the color drained from her face, eyes closed, head resting against the inside of the helicopter. He hoped she wouldn’t throw up. His sister, Avery, threw up in the family helicopter one year, on the way from Atlanta to Indigo Island. She had been young, but still. They’d all had to endure the rest of the flight with that nauseating smell permeating the helicopter’s cabin. This weekend was going to be challenging enough without starting it off all wrong.