Who Wants to Marry a Billionaire? (2 page)

Chapter Three

       The next
day at work, Nina felt like a sleepwalker as she drifted from her office in the
DeVere Foundation, to a meeting in the conference room on the twenty-ninth
floor, and then back again to her office on the twelfth floor.  Somehow, though,
she seemed to have more work to do than anyone else: a report on a project
related to hurricane relief, a stack of resumes to review from students wanting
to intern, and a book sized document to read and condense into a brief about
their new projects in Central America.  Normally, she wouldn’t have minded any
of the tasks, but it was hard to focus when it felt like her own life was a
disaster.  She pecked away at her keyboard, trying to stay focused.

       “Nina!”  The
harsh voice was unmistakable.  It was her boss, Elsa, who normally didn’t deign
to leave her lofty office on the thirtieth floor.  

       “Elsa—what
a surprise.”  Nina tried to force her face into a simulation of a pleasant
expression.  “What can I do for you?”

       “Mr.
DeVere wants to see you at 4:00pm.”

       “Mr.
DeVere?  Why on earth would Wilson DeVere want to see me?”

       Elsa
rolled her eyes.  “You know, to be a graduate from an elite, liberal arts
college like Williams, you can be a little dull.” 

       Nina
swallowed.  The tough girl who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks in blue
collar, Lowell, Massachusetts was feeling testy.  “I’m sorry, what exactly am I
missing?”

       Elsa was
already clicking across the parquet floor toward the door, tossing off over her
shoulder, “
Daniel
DeVere wants to see you in his office.  Four o’clock
sharp—don’t be late.”

       Pushing
her thick, wavy hair back over one shoulder, Nina checked the time at the top
of her computer screen; it was two o’clock now, so she had two hours.  Daniel
DeVere?  That was almost as puzzling as the notion of Wilson DeVere wanting to
see her.  Daniel had made a few rounds through the Foundation offices,
ostensibly to help on various projects, but mostly he just used his star power
at fundraising galas, or served, Nina suspected, as the mouthpiece of his
father.  Daniel’s mother, Dominique, actually did contribute to the charitable
work of the Foundation with real ideas and real work, but Daniel?  Nina hadn’t
been very impressed. 

       Setting
her computer alarm clock for 3:45, Nina tried not to think too much about
Daniel as she went back to work.  But somehow those startling green eyes and
that perfect smile kept intruding into her workspace—that, and a recollection
of him having a really cute butt.

Chapter Four

       On the
elevator up to the thirtieth floor, Nina caught a glance at herself in the
mirrored walls.  She looked a lot more like her Brazilian father than she did
her blonde, American mother - masses of unruly, wavy, hair, dark brown eyes, a
bit of olive tinge to her complexion.  She quickly tried to tame her hair, and
wished that she’d taken a moment to freshen her minimal make-up.   Her outfit,
she thought, was professional, but a little boring - dark brown pants, sensible
low-heeled shoes, a cream colored turtleneck sweater, and a knock off of a
Hermes scarf that she had bought at a discount store. 

       The
elevator dinged to signal her arrival and the doors slid open to reveal a
spacious reception area with expensive Italian leather sofas, enormous
arrangements of fresh flowers, and carpet about a hundred times nicer than what
they had on the lower levels.  There was a hush to the space that made her
nervous, and the fact that the receptionist was missing from the desk was not
helping her anxiety.  She didn’t want to be late, but her employee badge
wouldn’t open the doors leading back to the executive offices.  Suddenly a
thought that had never entered Nina’s mind hit her.  Was she going to be
fired?  Was this her exit from the DeVere Foundation?

She thought
about Reuben’s tuition, Rita’s study abroad program, her Mom—and of course, her
notice from the IRS.  Her heart started racing.

       The
receptionist magically reappeared behind the desk, with Nina hardly hearing her
arrival. 

       “Good
afternoon, Ms. Alves; Mr. DeVere will see you now.”  She pushed a hidden
button, and the door to the executive offices to her left swung open. 
“Straight ahead, last office on the right.”

       Nina
gulped, tried to gather herself and remembered her mother’s one admonition to
her as a girl: to always stand up straight.

       When Nina
arrived at the last office on the right, the door was closed.  She had expected
an executive assistant to be sitting close by, but no one seemed to be around. 
She wasn’t sure about the protocol, did she wait or did she knock?  Well, the
receptionist had said he was ready to see her, so she gently knocked.

       From
behind the door, she heard a voice call, “Come in.”

       Opening
the door into Daniel DeVere’s office was like opening a door into a fantasy
world.  It was, of course, a gigantic corner office.  Plate glass windows from
floor to ceiling made up two walls of the room.  On one end was a bright orange
leather sofa facing two, expensive, modern, designer chairs.  There was a glass
and metal coffee table, and an ultra modern working fireplace set into the
wall.  The other wall had built in bookcases filled with all manner of books,
art objects, and memorabilia—a Ming vase, a baseball signed by Babe Ruth, a
copy of
Catcher in the Rye
that she was sure had to be a first edition. 
It must be good to be the son of a billionaire. 

       Daniel
had his back to her, apparently contemplating her fate while gazing across Boston
toward the Atlantic Ocean.   He stood at the window behind his large modern
desk.  His sandy hair was a bit long, and Nina noticed how it caught the light
of the late afternoon sun.  It looked soft, she thought, touchable, and then
she hardened herself, prepared to take whatever he dished out.  If he fired
her, she thought, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing Nina
Alves cry.  She stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to make a
move.

       Finally,
he turned around.

       “Ms. Alves—thank
you for coming.  Please have a seat.”  Daniel made a gracious gesture with his
hand, directing her toward the sofa.  Nina sat toward one end, while Daniel sat
on the other.  He lounged back, looking totally at ease.  “How are things down
on the twelfth today?”

       Nina
started to relax a little as there was nothing about his demeanor that
suggested she was getting fired.   “Fine, good really.  As I’m sure you know,
there’s a lot going on right now with the Foundation.”

       He
nodded.  “I wanted to tell you how impressed my mother was with the report you
wrote about the Foundation’s work in the Philippines after the devastation from
the typhoon.  You’ve really been instrumental in making sure that our resources
are going to the right organizations on the ground.  It’s really much
appreciated.”

       Nina
couldn’t help but smile at the compliment.  She liked her work and she liked
helping people in difficult circumstances—she just wished she and her family
were not on the verge of financial collapse.  “Thanks.  It’s really wonderful
to be able to do meaningful work.  I’ve been very happy working for the DeVere
Foundation.”

       When she
smiled, Nina’s entire face lit up.  Her cheeks flushed with a little color, and
Daniel couldn’t help but notice.  He studied her face and thought it held more
than a hint of the exotic.  He usually went for the leggy blondes, but there
was something about Nina that was appealing.  She had plump, kissable lips, but
he decided it was her huge brown eyes and long eyelashes that were her most
captivating feature—that and her curves in all the right places.  Her wardrobe
was a little dull, he thought, but they could fix that. 

       “Your
dedication to the Foundation has not gone without notice.”

       Nina felt
a little excited now.  Maybe they had reconsidered giving her a raise!  Maybe
witchy Elsa just put her off until she could clear it with someone higher.

       Daniel
continued.  “I’ve seen your file.  You’ve been with us for six years, first as
an intern the summer before your senior year at Williams, then as a program
assistant, and now you’re a program coordinator.  That demonstrates some
initiative on your part.  All of your peer reviews have been exemplary.  And
there’s a dozen letters in your file from our NGO partners saying how wonderful
it is to work with you.  I understand you’re also putting your siblings through
college.”

       Starting
to feel a little embarrassed, Nina demurred, “Sibling.  My sister has a
scholarship that’s covering most of her tuition.”

       Daniel
smiled at her.  “So brains run in the family—how about beauty?  Is your sister
as charming as you?”

       Nina felt
like she should be getting a little creeped out, but there didn’t seem to be
anything malevolent about his manner.  What was he getting at?  She stammered,
unsure how to respond, “Uh…um, I…umm…”

       Then
Daniel rescued her.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. 
Don’t tell Human Resources—they’ll make me sign up for the seminar on sexual
harassment in the workplace.”  He flashed that perfect smile at her, and Nina
thought he could be telling her not to talk to little green Martians and she
would have agreed.  There was something so mesmerizing about his face.  She
tried to get a grip on herself.

       “So…may I
call you Nina?”  Nina nodded affirmatively.  “And please call me Daniel.  I hate
all this stuffy Ms. and Mr. stuff…not my style, really.”  Nina nodded again,
mouthing “Daniel.”   Why did a billionaire want her to call him Daniel?  But he
continued.  “So Nina, it’s come to my attention that you recently requested a raise.”

       “Yes,
that’s right, but Ms. Woodruff…Elsa, didn’t seem to think it was appropriate at
this point in my tenure.”  The old witch, Nina thought.

       Daniel
uncrossed his legs and leaned toward Nina, lowering his voice as if someone
might be eavesdropping on their conversation and he wanted to create an air of
confidentiality, “I also understand that you are going through some difficult
financial circumstances.”

       Nina
expelled a breath.  And that was
before
the IRS notice.  She was rather puzzled
about why Daniel DeVere cared about her finances if he wasn’t going to give her
a raise. Since he seemed to know everything, anyway, there didn’t seem to be
much point in trying to hide the truth.

       “Yes,
that’s right.”  Nina picked her words carefully; she didn’t want to sound like
a victim asking for pity, but she wanted to be truthful.  “My salary has to
cover not only my own living expenses and mortgage and student loans, but the
tuition and living for my brother, and I help my sister out some, and sometimes,
I have to supplement my mother’s income.”

       Daniel
tried to look sympathetic, but Nina had the sense that Daniel DeVere had no
idea what any of that really meant; the stress of it all, or the fact that her
salary–while not bad for a relatively young, single, person—was totally
inadequate to cover all these other things, especially given the high cost of
living in Boston.  

       “It’s
been difficult, then?” 

       “Yes,
very difficult, and frankly, things have gotten even worse since I asked for
the raise.  The IRS is under the impression that I owe them ten thousand
dollars, and if something doesn’t happen soon, I’m in danger of losing my
home.  They’re going to put a lien on it in thirty days.”

       “I’m
really sorry to hear that, I know that must be upsetting.”  Daniel looked as if
he meant that, and it made Nina feel a tiny bit better for divulging her
intimate problems to a virtual stranger.  “If it were up to me Nina, I’d give
you a raise, a huge raise, and a bonus for all the good work that you’re doing
for the Foundation, but the fact is, there’s a hierarchy for those things, and
an approval process, and all that, and I’m not in that chain.” 

       Daniel
stood up and wandered over to the bookcases, idly picking up items and fidgeting
with them.  Knowing the value of most of the things on that wall, it made Nina
a little nervous.  He always seemed on the verge of breaking something.  He
turned back to Nina.  “I suppose you saw the item in the news about me.”

       Suppressing
a laugh, Nina couldn’t help but recall the expression on the faces of that
Bulgarian model and some ambassador in the photos of Daniel from Cannes.  It
had been a stupid thing to do, but it
was
kind of hilarious.  She
cleared her throat, “You mean…the thing with the donkeys and the clowns?”

       Exasperated,
Daniel whacked a piece of genuine moon rock back on the shelves so hard that it
nearly toppled the Ming vase.   “No, not the thing with the damn donkeys and
clowns.”  He rubbed his head, wondering if the “incident”
in Cannes was
going to be the only thing people ever remembered about him.  “I mean the thing
in Panama.”

       Before
she could stop herself, Nina let out an audible “Ohhhhh.”  She caught herself
and tried to be professional.  “Um, yes, yes I did see the Panamanian news
item.”  How could she forget the image of Daniel’s face peering out from between
the ample—and fake—breasts of a stripper?  She paused in her mind; she didn’t
think it was politically correct to call them strippers, the correct term was,
she supposed,
exotic dancer
.  Although she wasn’t sure what was exotic
about taking off your clothes.

        “It was
a set-up.  The paparazzi were just trying to capitalize off of the whole donk…off
the incident in Cannes.  I was out looking for a restaurant for dinner, and
these guys jumped me and dragged me in there.”