Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“The one and only.” He bows.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I blurt, then wince, wishing I could control my mouth. But he only laughs.
“Thank you, darling. You know how to flatter a guy.”
“It’s true.” He looks the same as he always has, other than a touch of grey at his temples. “Not everyone can pull off a jacket like that.”
“Shall I return the favor? Not everyone can pull off a…shall we call it a dress? like that. Now who or what are you supposed to be?” He pulls out a monocle and peers through it, studying me like a strange bug under a magnifying glass. “Green fabric with brown at the edges. And is that…bark on your bodice?”
I stifle a groan. “I’m Daphne of the myth. She turned into a laurel tree.”
“Hmm,” Armand murmurs.
“I was trying to be clever,” I mumble.
Two beautiful women traipse past us, one blonde, one brunette. Both dressed in togas that hug their butts and plunge between their breasts. Sexy Aphrodite and Slutty Athena. The blonde flutters her fingers at Armand. He smiles but gives a small shake of his head, and she turns away with a pout.
Rachel was right. Dressing like a tree was a mistake. I hold my chin up, pretending I don’t care.
“You are clever, darling.” Unbelievably, Armand turns back to me. I wrack my brain for what I know about him. Owner of a chain of spas, a top fashion line, and hair and skin treatment products shipped all over the world. “I would expect nothing less from you…Dr. Laurel.” He tweaks my leafy crown of laurels.
“Oh, call me Daphne. Dr. Laurel is my father.”
“Daphne.” He inclines his head. “How is your father?”
“Much better, thank you,” I repeat the company line. His stroke is common knowledge, widely reported, much to the board’s dismay.
“And you, the youngest CEO in New Olympus.” Armand is back to studying me with his monocle. “Perhaps ever.”
“Not quite. Adam Archer claimed that title when he took over Archer Industries for his father.”
“But that was years ago. Now you ascend to the throne. I wonder if Adam will be jealous.”
“Not of me.” I blush.
“Mmmm,” Armand purrs, tucking the monocle away. “I think you underestimate yourself.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re here, aren’t you? Young, beautiful, successful.”
“Acting like a wallflower. Which is fitting, because I’m dressed as shrubbery.” I spread my hands to present my sartorial faux pas.
Armand’s laugh lights tingles up and down my spine. I don’t mind his flirting—I know I’m not his type—but he certainly is handsome.
“We can’t have that, beautiful Daphne. Come.” He takes my hand and draws me away from the column. My options are to protest and make a scene, or follow.
I choose to follow. “Where are you taking me?” My stomach rumbles. I put a hand over it, mortified.
Armand pauses. “Perhaps I should get you something from the buffet?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. I’m afraid I’ll spill something on myself. I get clumsy when I’m nervous.” Then I slam my mouth shut. Argh, must engage brain before talking! This is why I shouldn’t socialize.
But Armand only chuckles. “Very well.” He draws me into his embrace. “Do you dance?”
“Not really.” My limbs are wooden.
“Sway with me then.” His eyes mesmerize me, and I grow supple in his arms. “That’s it.”
At one end of the ballroom, a full piece orchestra plays a jazzy version of the Sleeping Beauty waltz. Armand leads me smoothly between the other dancers. My full skirt swishes satisfyingly around Armand’s lean legs. Okay, well this isn’t too hard.
“We make a perfect pair,” he tells me, and I almost believe him. Heads turn as we pass. For a moment I close my eyes and imagine I’m the beauty in the arms of her prince.
“There,” Armand murmurs in my ear. “You’re not a wallflower anymore. No one can take their eyes off you.”
I draw back, my cheeks in full blaze. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
He lets me out for a twirl and I follow his lead, giggling.
“You’re welcome, my lady. But there’s something you should know.” He leans in close to whisper, “I am never kind.” He pulls back and I get a glimpse of the calculating look in his dark eyes.
Tingles run up and down my spine, but I relax. In the past few months, I’ve dealt with more deceit and machinations than in my entire lifetime. And that’s just dealing with Belladonna’s board of directors. All in a day’s work for a CEO.
I meet his gaze straight on. “So you’re acting for your benefit?”
“Always. But not only mine.” He promenades me past a beautiful blonde in a silvery sheath. The Gala sponsor and hostess, the famous Cora Ubeli, standing in a receiving line of guests. Armand cuts through them and jerks his chin at me. I try to restrain my wild blushes. Cora gives me a gracious wave and smile.