He smiled his perfect pearly whites and sat in the chair.
Tina walked in and set a few glasses of water and a fruit tray on my desk before leaving us alone again.
“Mr. Dalton, is there any reason why you didn’t tell us exactly who you were instead of using a coded LLC name?”
“There are plenty of reasons.” His eyes met mine. “Before I go there though, is your real name Rachel or Penelope?”
“It’s Miss Lauren.”
“Okay, Miss Lauren,” he said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had the best luck with publicists in this city and my reputation tends to precede me everywhere I go. I wanted a chance to introduce myself personally instead of letting the words of the tabloids and the press do it for me.”
He leaned back in the chair and it suddenly hit me. Ryan Dalton of Dalton International Estates and Realty. The self-made real-estate tycoon and owner of over a hundred commercial properties and vacation properties. A revered billionaire, yet a complete and utter playboy.
I’d never paid too much attention to the tabloids or the lifestyle section in the newspapers, but I’d heard stories here and there about certain socialites who made me happy that I didn’t have to represent billionaires or clients who attracted such a high level of media scrutiny.
“Are the images of last night finally coming back to you?” he asked. “Is that why you’re staring at me?”
“Nothing happened last night. If it did, I think I would remember it.”
“You don’t remember orgasming five times?”
“No.” I blushed. “Let’s get back to talking about you.”
“I left you an important note on your dresser.”
“I never got it.”
“You never got it, or you never read it?”
“Both.”
He laughed his deep, sexy laugh and stood up—pulling an envelope from his breast pocket. “These are my terms. I need you to agree to them before we can go any further with talks.”
“What?” I was confused. “You’re asking us to represent you and you think that you can set the initial terms before we even get to the real initial terms? With all due respect, that’s not how the client-publicist relationship works. We need to talk now.”
“We can talk after you sign my NDA.” He pushed the envelope closer to me. “You also need to agree to comply with my company’s representation terms for legal reasons. Surely you can understand why someone like me would need that.”
“Right...” I stared at the envelope and stood up as well. “So, honest question. Why did you even bother requesting a signing meeting if you knew you were only going to drop off a stifling stipulation contract?”
“Well, for one, I’ve already paid you three million dollars for your services.” He looked amused. “Two, I like to personally meet whoever I’m going to be dealing with to ensure that they possess the proper temperament and stamina to handle me.” He looked me up and down again, sending my nerves into a frenzy. “Although, if I had known I would be meeting you again, I would’ve been more than aware that you’re capable of handling every inch of me. Repeatedly.”
“Mr. Dalton...” I hated the way my body was reacting to him right now. “I really would prefer if we at least talked a little bit today. This just isn’t how I normally do business with my clients.”
“Are any of your normal clients paying you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month?”
I didn’t answer.
“Then I think I’m more than worthy of an exception,” he said. “Read the contract. If you’re open to accepting the terms meet me at my Manhattan headquarters tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock. The address is stapled to a business card I’ve included and we can discuss things in my office where there’s actually more than ten square feet.” He looked around my office. “I think the terms are quite fair, so I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, Miss Lauren.”
I still didn’t answer him.
“Should I assume that you’re going to continue to pretend as if we’ve never previously met?”
“We haven’t.” I crossed my arms. “I’ll look at the contract and tell you my decision either way, Mr. Dalton. Have a great day.”
He smiled and looked me over one last time before walking out of my office, placing the final cherry on top of what was now officially the worst day of my life.
ONE DAY LATER
THE CLIENT
RYAN
There has to be a way I can get out of these boring ass meetings...
I pretended to pay attention as the members of my board discussed the same ten topics they’d discussed for the past two months. Global Initiative. Press Plan. Stock Options. Repeat. It was as if they needed to incessantly reassure themselves that they’d voted to do the right thing, and I was wondering if I could go back in time to when I was nineteen years old and turn down their start-up funding.
I poured myself a cup of coffee as the financial officers began reading their monthly report, letting my thoughts drift to the only thing I was truly able to focus on this morning: Penelope.
Images of her puffy red lips and that black dress she was wearing yesterday were replaying in mind every five minutes. They’d seamlessly joined the images from the night we ‘didn’t meet,’ when she rode my cock for hours and let me fuck her against her bedroom wall.
I loved the way she screamed my name when we fucked...
“Are we boring you, Mr. Dalton?” The lead board member, Nathaniel, interrupted my thoughts. “I’m scared to ask whether you’ve been paying attention to anything we’ve said.”
“You should be,” I said. “I’ll look at my brother’s notes later to see if anything new was said today.”
“Ugh...” He groaned. “Plenty of new things were said, but we’re making sure that we are all on the same page in regards to the global initiative. You know, that initiative we hope to launch as soon as possible as long as our beloved CEO can make a needed turn around with his public image.”
“Your beloved CEO refuses to make any promises.”
His face reddened and he looked as if he was going to launch into one of his usual, “You are so damn impossible” tirades, but my brother held up his hand.
“I’ll be happy to let you all know that Ryan is meeting with a brand new public relations firm today,” he said. “He’s assured me that they seem like a perfect fit for him.”
“Like that means anything.” Nathan mumbled. “Same shit, different day. They’ll quit like all the others, and my money is on two weeks. Max.”
There were murmurs of agreement around the table, and Leo shot me a “Please don’t fuck this up” look.
Thankfully, he steered the subject toward our goals for the rest of the year and brought the meeting to a much needed close minutes later. As the board members filed out of the room, he motioned for me to stay behind.
When the last of the members was gone, he let out a breath and loosened his tie. “What’s the name of this new firm you’ve hired?”
“Penelope Lauren and Associates.”
“Hmmm. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.” He pulled out his phone and tapped his screen a few times. Then he rolled his eyes and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Ryan, this firm isn’t even in the mid-level class of PR firms, and they have a staff of five. Well, six if you include the founding partner.”
“I’m very impressed with your reading abilities. Please read me some more.”
“It takes ten people to handle the logistics of a single month for you,” he said. “Twenty when you start talking aboutmultiple conferences and travel plans. So, please don’t tell me that this is the only firm you could get on the phone.”
I didn’t answer. We both knew that was the case.
“What about Drew & Associates?” he asked. “I found them yesterday and they’re almost a first tier firm that seems to be doing pretty well.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled a few words on the back of a business card. “Whenever this Lauren & Associates firm realizes they can’t handle you, which will probably be minutes after meeting you, give this Drew firm a call.”