Читать книгу Prince of Midtown / Marriage, Manhattan Style - Jennifer Lewis - Страница 10

Relief surged through Sebastian as he grasped his old friend’s hand in a warm handshake. Reed Wellington was the kind of man you wanted on your side in a crisis. His clear blue eyes never reflected a hint of worry.

“Sebastian, I’m sorry I couldn’t make the snowboarding trip to Kilimanjaro, but Elizabeth thought it sounded, well, crazy.”

Sebastian laughed. “I guess that’s the problem with being married. You wind up stuck with someone who truly cares about you.”

“Yes. And you have to stop hurling yourself off mountaintops.” His eyes crinkled into a smile. “When are you going to get married, eh?”

“Never. Or when I meet the right woman. Whichever comes first.” He got this question a lot.

“No one can accuse you of not trying your best to bed every eligible woman in the world.”

“Just doing my royal duty.”

“Seriously, isn’t there a lot of pressure on you to sire the next heir to the throne of Caspia?”

“I try not to think about that. Besides, we Caspians often live to be over a hundred and my father’s barely sixty.”

“All that goats’ milk yogurt, huh?”

“Food of the gods.”

They shared a chuckle but Sebastian couldn’t help thinking Reed’s laugh was a little too hearty. Forced, even. And what was it with married people trying to shove eternal bondage down your throat?

“You’re here about Caspia Designs?” Reed gestured for him to sit in the leather chair opposite the wide walnut desk. The room was decorated like the headquarters of an eighteenth-century shipping magnate.

Sebastian eased himself into the chair. “I am. I’m in dire need of your business expertise. I’m afraid the company is in worse financial shape than I’d suspected.”

Reed’s expression changed to one of concern. “How so?”

“Until I took over the reins a year ago, Caspia Designs was overseen by Deon Maridis, an old and close friend of my father’s. He’s a good man, but the company’s profits went into a slow slide under his watch.”

Sebastian fought an urge to loosen his collar. “Last year the company actually lost money.”

“What?” Reed sat up. “I confess luxury brands are not my area of expertise, and I can imagine the company is mature and not growing much, but Caspia Designs owns some of the most renowned luxury brands in the world. Aria cars, Bugaretti Jewels, LeVerge Champagne, Carriage Leathers…Why, I bought my wife one of their bags last Christmas and it nearly bankrupted me.” He laughed for a second, then frowned. “How can they be losing money?”

Sebastian leaned forward. “Our brands have been known as the best of the best since the 1920s when the company went public, but many of them have barely changed since. Production methods are outdated and inefficient, and there’s been little effort to attract new customers. There are now a host of luxury jewelers, vintners and the like, and most of them have better distribution and marketing than the ones owned by Caspia Designs. I want to shake up the companies and get them operating like a real business. I also plan to market the goods to a younger audience.”

“Sounds as if you need to do some rebranding. Like Burberry and Mini Cooper.”

“Exactly.”

Reed tilted his head and smiled. “Sort of like you’ve been doing with Caspia.”

Sebastian couldn’t help a swell of pride. “It’s true. Ten years ago, Caspia had virtually no foreign investors, no tourism, little business beyond those that had existed for hundreds of years.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “Now you have hotels and luxury boutiques and restaurants for tourists to spend their money in. And you accomplished it almost singlehandedly over the last ten years.”

“My assistant, Tessa, must get some of the credit.” Her green eyes flashed in his mind. “She’s an organizational genius.”

“You’re lucky to have her.”

“Don’t I know it.” Sebastian’s fist clenched. How could she plan to abandon him at a time like this? “And we’ll be working hard to make Caspia Designs a good investment for all our shareholders.”

“I don’t doubt you’ll succeed.”

“I intend to, but I’m used to building from scratch, not fixing something that’s broken. I need your advice on how to turn the individual companies around, and fast.”

“Hmm.” Reed tapped his gold pen on his blotter. “If I were you, I’d start by scheduling a meeting with the President and CEO—or their equivalents—of each company within Caspia Designs. Get them all together and read them the riot act.”

“I’ve already asked Tessa to schedule a meeting.”

“Excellent. At that meeting, challenge them to come up with ten ways to immediately increase market share and profitability in their own company.” He gave Sebastian a series of examples of companies who’d effected a similar change by bringing in experienced managers or reinventing their product for modern markets. “You could hire a consulting firm to investigate and give you additional ideas.”

“I prefer to solve our problems internally. These are all businesses with quality products. They’ve been resting on their laurels, and it’s time to shake them up.”

“I can see them shaking already. You can do anything you set your mind to. Even snowboarding down Kilimanjaro.” He leaned back with a wistful smile.

Sebastian’s chest filled with regret that his friend had missed the experience. “You should have been there.”

Reed looked away, picked up a pen and tapped it on his blotter. “Yes. Well. I have other commitments now.” A muscle twitched at his temple. His blue gaze seemed less bright than usual.

“How is Elizabeth? I haven’t seen her in a long time. Is she still your secret weapon on the doubles court, as well as the love of your life?”

Reed’s eyes crinkled. “She sure is. We’ll have to get together for a game sometime with you and whoever your current mixed-doubles partner is.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m playing singles at the moment. Got business to take care of.”

“Even if we don’t see you on the courts, you must come to our anniversary party.”

“What is it, three years?”

“Five.” Reed’s jaw stiffened.

Not the most reassuring indication of marital bliss.

“That’s great.” He leaned over the desk and slapped Reed on the arm. Tried to sound enthusiastic. “Just let me know where to show up. And you know the two of you have an open invitation to visit Caspia again whenever you like.”

“I’ll take you up on that soon. Right now I’m in the throes of starting a new company. It’s sucking up even more of my free time than all that partying we used to do when we were younger.”

“Who says I’ve stopped?” Sebastian raised a brow.

“You always did have impressive stamina. One day you’ll meet a woman you actually want to stay home with.”

“So they tell me, but I don’t plan to wave the white flag of surrender anytime soon.”

The doorman pulled open the door and Sebastian stepped into the lobby of his building. Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s two fluffy white dogs stopped scratching at the priceless Oriental rug and turned to growl at him.

If that woman led him around on a string all day, he wouldn’t be in a good mood, either. Sebastian shot the dogs a sympathetic glance.

“Prince Sebastian!” Vivian turned to him with a winning smile. Or had too much plastic surgery left her expression permanently fixed like that?

“Hello, Vivian.”

“How lovely to see you here. I noticed you haven’t been around much lately.”

“I’ve been in Caspia.”

“Ahh.” Her dogs lunged at his pant leg, yowling and snapping at the end of their embroidered leashes. “I read about those nasty storms in the Mediterranean. I do hope Caspia didn’t suffer too much damage.”

“There were some losses to the olive crops, but happily no one was hurt.”

“What a relief. Backward countries do seem to suffer the most from these things.”

Sebastian’s hackles shot up. “Caspia is in no way backward. If you were to visit…” Perish the thought. “You’d find a thriving, modern country on the brink of becoming one of the prime luxury tourist destinations in the world.”

“How charmingly passionate you are about your homeland.”

Sebastian glanced up to see if the elevator was coming. Yes, thank God.

The doors opened and Vivian’s paisley skirt swirled about her ankles as she walked in. Her dogs yapped around Sebastian’s ankles, loud in the enclosed space.

“Hold the elevator!” A deep voice rang across the marbled lobby.

Sebastian looked up to see Gage Lattimer diving past the doorman.

Vivian’s dogs diverted their hostile intentions to him. Fortunately for Sebastian, Vivian followed suit.

“Why, Gage, our man of mystery. I was just chatting with Prince Sebastian.” She shone that fixed smile on him. “He should be a role model to you. He does live up to his clean-cut image.”

Clean-cut? Sebastian resisted the urge to test his chin for stubble. He’d been called a lot of things, but clean-cut wasn’t one of them. Maybe she meant the suit?

He shot a puzzled look at Gage.

“Are you implying something?” Gage raised an eyebrow at Vivian.

“Moi?” She forced a laugh. “Of course not. I believe people’s personal affairs should be kept private.”

Gage shook his head.

An awkward silence thickened in the air. Well, not exactly silence, what with all the growling.

Sebastian’s muscles unwound a bit when the elevator reached his floor. He held the door open for Vivian to exit, her leashed demons scampering ahead of her.

Unfortunately they lived on the same floor.

Happily the walls were thick.

Her dogs wiggled with excitement as she fumbled in her purse for her key. They actually looked sort of adorable for once and he couldn’t resist crouching to pet one of the fluffy fur balls.

It turned and snapped at him, almost catching his finger.

Never mind.

Sebastian’s apartment had a neglected air. His former house sitter, Carrie Gray, hadn’t left his employ to marry that long ago, but already stacks of unopened mail tilted precariously on the hall table. He picked an envelope off the top and ripped it open.

“You are cordially invited to celebrate the landmark status of our building.”

He snorted.

Yes, 721 Park Avenue was a beautiful building, but it probably wasn’t much over a hundred years old. Parts of the royal palace in Caspia were rumored to be five thousand years old.

That was a landmark.

He flung the envelope back on the pile and lifted his foot to step over the bag he’d dropped in the foyer the night before. He’d gone straight from the plane to the office to an all-night party and hadn’t had time to unpack. It was inconvenient having no one to do it for him.

But the bag wasn’t there.

Did he hear voices?

He did. Female voices.

Interesting. Especially since he hadn’t brought anyone home last night.

Anticipation pricked through him as he walked down the marble-floored hallway toward the living room.

A familiar mane of blond hair cascaded over the back of an uncomfortable eighteenth-century chair. “Tessa.”

She jumped. “Oh, Your Highness, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Your Highness?” He lifted a brow.

“I’m interviewing candidates for your new house sitter.” She indicated a red-haired girl seated opposite her.

He smiled at them both. He always could count on Tessa to handle everything.

Tessa excused herself for a moment and hurried after Sebastian. “I unpacked your bag. I’m not sure if I did it right. Let me show you where I put things.”

She rambled on, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his private space. His house sitter used to handle the apartment, so she rarely came here. She was embarrassed that she still hadn’t had time to tackle his mail. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I just thought it would be a good idea to interview the house sitters here so they’d have an idea of what the job entails. The antiques and all. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they treat your home.”

“Good thinking.”

She rushed along the hallway. Why was she so anxious? Perhaps because she was also secretly interviewing for her own replacement.

“The agency had three girls ready this morning, and I didn’t want to wait, or to interrupt you at Reed’s. How did the meeting go?”

“Great. I wanted to get his advice on how to bring Caspia Designs into the twenty-first century.” He glanced at her. “Or even the twentieth.”

His mischievous grin made her heart beat faster.

“You’ll turn the company around fast.”

“With your help.” He shot her a dark look. “Starting with this trip to Caspia.”

She swallowed. Even poring over the inadequate and whimsical financial reports of Caspia Designs had made her fall a little bit in love with the country. It seemed a land ruled by passion rather than politics. Exuberance rather than economics.

Much like its devastatingly handsome prince.

Tessa bit her lip. Already she’d reconsidered her plan to leave. Sebastian paid her well and treated her kindly. Her parents told her she was mad to quit a job with such excellent benefits.

But she’d spent most of her adult life working with the rich and famous, first at a PR firm and now here. She was sick of glitz and glamour. She’d trade it in a heartbeat for the simple happiness her parents still shared after nearly fifty years of marriage.

For some reason being tall and blond attracted the biggest jerk in every room she entered. She’d had enough of being arm-candy for movers and shakers who weren’t interested in anything beyond a night of sex.

Normal “regular guy” types never asked her out. Patrick was the best thing to happen to her in a long time. Yes, he was a high-profile lawyer, but he was down-to-earth and practical. He called when he said he would. He took her out on dates—when he had the time—and treated her with respect.

Something she’d begun to worry would never happen.

In his large, uncluttered bedroom, Sebastian removed his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. Tessa dragged her eyes away. “I hung your pants and shirts in the closet. And I put your…underwear in the drawer.”

Her cheeks heated. Handling his boxers had felt way too personal.

“You didn’t have to do that.” His fingers continued down his buttons. He tugged his shirt out of his pants to undo the bottom ones and she fought an urge to run for the door.

But she didn’t want him to know that watching him undress affected her. He was probably used to undressing in front of…staff. It meant nothing to him.

She meant nothing to him.

For years she’d been telling herself her silly attraction to her boss would fade over time. She’d fall for someone else.

But other men seemed pale and uninteresting compared to Sebastian.

Except Patrick, of course. He was thoughtful. Nice. Considerate.

He wasn’t quite ready for fatherhood yet, but maybe once his big case was over and they settled into a comfortable house in a nice quiet neighborhood with trees and grass and…

Uh-oh. Sebastian’s long fingers undid the button on his pants.

She headed for the door. “I put your toiletries in the bathroom. Well, your toothbrush. I didn’t see anything else.”

“I don’t need anything else.”

“I’ll get back to my interview.” Her voice was high and squeaky. She heard the swish of his pants sliding over his long, muscled legs.

“Did Dior Homme send the T-shirts?”

“Um. Yes. I put them…” She’d have to go back into the bedroom to find the shelf. Squinting to avoid the vision of a seminaked Sebastian, she hurried to the closet.

“Here, on the middle shelf.” The fresh pile of shirts commemorated the deal he’d brokered to open a Dior boutique in the row of luxury stores along the harbor in Caspia. She picked up a large black T-shirt with a geometric design and held it toward him while keeping her eyes averted.

She could smell his scent. Soap and skin. A hint of sweat.

How could that get her blood pumping? He was just a guy, for crying out loud. Patrick smelled much nicer, of that woodsy cologne he wore. Which, actually, she hated. But she could buy him another.

“Tessa.”

She turned without thinking. At the exact moment he lifted the T-shirt over his head and flexed all the muscles of his wide, bronzed chest.

Her knees buckled and she struggled to stay upright.

Not a problem. She didn’t like big muscles anyway.

Too brutish.

She preferred men who were…cerebral.

“What do you think?” He indicated the T-shirt freshly pulled over his thick pecs.

“Nice design.” Her voice came out weird and flat. A light dusting of black hair roughened his hard, bare thighs below the T-shirt hem.

“Yeah. I like this new line. Did you take some for yourself?”

“I don’t wear extra large.”

“You could wear them in bed.” His low voice tickled her ears.

Tessa’s eyes widened. Her face heated. Sebastian was thinking about her in bed?

Oh. Get over yourself.

If anyone knew that women like to sleep in oversize T-shirts, it was Sebastian. He’d seen a lot of women in bed.

“Sure. I’ll grab a couple.”

“Great.” He shot her a white-toothed smile.

That set her on alert. Why was he smiling at her for no reason?

Because he wants to keep you around as his serf, organizing his files and answering his phone, dummy.

“I’ll go finish the interview.”

“I appreciate it. I’m going out to grab something to eat.

You want anything from the café?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

Again, the niceness. Very suspicious.

Sebastian strode across the room, legs still bare. He slid a hand under his T-shirt to scratch his rock-hard belly while he contemplated his impressive collection of jeans.

Tessa managed to rasp, “See you later,” as she rushed out the door.

The Park Café was the closest eatery, so Sebastian went there often when he was in town. He’d spent several weeks in New York in the spring and had hand-trained one of the young servers to make the perfect cup of coffee—or at least the closest possible approximation available in this part of the world.

His heart sank as he entered the bright space of the café to a sea of new faces. Then he spotted Reed and Elizabeth Wellington sitting at one of the café tables. He waved and tried to catch their eye, but they were deep in conversation.

“What can I get you?” asked the perky young server.

“I’d like a pastrami on rye with Russian dressing and nothing else. And a seven-shot espresso.”

She vanished, her expressionless face imparting confidence.

What a relief not to be peppered with questions about lettuce and tomatoes and mayo.

His synapses tingled in anticipation of a welcome jolt of caffeine.

He glanced over at his friends’ table. Reed leaned forward, talking in hushed tones, while his wife looked strangely tight-lipped. Were they arguing?

The server returned with seven tiny china cups of espresso. Here we go again. “In one cup, please.”

She picked up a paper cup and began to pour them in.

“They’ll be too cool. Could you use china and heat it again?” He kept his voice pleasant.

“Milk and sugar?”

“No milk, no sugar, no cinnamon, no froth, no chocolate curls. Just the coffee.”

His sandwich appeared, loaded with unwanted vegetables.

Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face.

He’d be home in Caspia soon.

“I don’t think you do!” A raised voice caught his attention and he turned to see Reed, who’d stood suddenly, scraping his chair back on the tile floor.

Elizabeth looked panic-stricken. “Please, Reed…” he heard her say, before the server plunked his big mug of espresso on the counter.

He swiped his credit card and turned in time to see Reed striding out of the restaurant, a black expression clouding his chiseled features.

Alarmed, Sebastian glanced at Elizabeth, who stared after her husband with a stunned look on her face.

Sebastian snatched his cup and plate off the counter and hurried to the table. He sat without waiting for an invitation.

His gut twisted when he saw her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”

He reached for her hand but she snatched it up and dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “Nothing! Nothing at all. I’m fine.” A sob belied her words. “Allergies. They’re terrible at this time of year.” She drew in a sharp breath. “How are you, Sebastian?”

“Once I’ve had this coffee, I’ll be okay.” He took a bracing sip. Elizabeth was obviously in distress and it pained him not to be able to help her. “Can I get you something? Some chocolate?”

She laughed. “Chocolate usually does help, doesn’t it?” She glanced toward the door. “But not today. I have to run, I have an appointment.” Hands shaking, she gathered her handbag and a large shopping bag. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time to chat. I’ve—” Her voice caught.

Something was very wrong.

“I understand. Another time.” The platitudes felt hollow and useless, but she clearly didn’t want to talk.

He rose from his chair and kissed her cheek. Cold as ice. “And, Elizabeth, if you ever need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me.”

She nodded and hurried away.

How odd. She and Reed always seemed like the perfect couple. Their wedding had been the social event of the season, the bride radiant, her handsome groom the toast of the city for months. Sebastian had even found himself contemplating the joys of marriage—for a week or two.

Luckily it had worn off.

Five years later and here they were: arguments, tension, tears.

Marriage did not look like fun.