The Accidental Engagement (2 page)

Ivy stared at the front cover, momentarily speechless. There he was—the man who’d huddled by her feet while she fended off an angry husband. He was flashing the camera that now-familiar cocky grin, one hand on the back of a supermodel as they made their way toward a waiting limo. “Tech Mogul Out on the Town,” the headline read. Ivy had never taken much interest in gossip columns or celebrities and today her willful ignorance was on display.

When she looked up she saw that Franklin was watching her with a tight-lipped look of disapproval. “I’d say your Mr. Everett has a tendency to find the spotlight. Or rather, the spotlight has a tendency to find him.”

Ivy let out a pent up breath. “So you’re not angry?”

“No, I’m not angry. I think you handled the whole thing quite well, considering....”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Webster,” Ivy interrupted.

Franklin’s lips twisted into a rare hint of a smile. “Of course. And if Mr. Everett should be true to his offer and come back to the hotel, I know you will do everything in your power to keep him…
entertained.”

The suggestion made Ivy’s skin crawl but her smile didn’t falter. It remained frozen in place as her stomach churned. She had heard stories about coworkers being urged to dress more provocatively or to flirt with the guests but she never believed them to be true. She struggled to keep her voice even. “Excuse me?”

His expression remained coy. “I think you know what I mean, my dear.” His gaze lowered and he studied her figure as though appraising a piece of art at auction. “My sources tell me you were quite a hit with the young man.”

She forced a joking tone as she held the tabloid up before her. “From what I gather, most women are a hit with that young man.”

Franklin let out a cackle that made her jump in her seat. Franklin Webster did not laugh. Everyone knew that. But at least he wasn’t eyeing her like a piece of meat anymore.

He settled back into his seat. “I like you, Ivy. You’re smart and you’re a go-getter. This is a tough business and there aren’t a lot of openings in the areas where you show an interest…” his voice trailed off and he seemed to be weighing how best to phrase the next statement. “You’ll soon learn that to be considered for promotion, an employee must show that he or she is willing to go above and beyond for the company.”

Bile rose in her throat. She was going to be sick. She knew exactly what he was insinuating but feigned confusion. “Mr. Webster, are you suggesting that I get involved in a romantic relationship with Mr. Everett for the sake of my job?”

Franklin’s mouth opened and closed to resemble a guppy as he protested the coarse accusation. “Of course not. I would never suggest such a thing.”

“Of course not,” she repeated—
because that would be illegal
.

Feeling a twinge of success at having the last word, she made a move to leave the office but he stopped her.

“No one would ever make such a crass suggestion at this hotel,” he said. “But I hope you keep in mind, my dear, that there are a limited number of jobs at this hotel and there is no room for employees who aren’t team players.”

She stopped in her tracks halfway to the door with her back to the manager. The threat could hardly be called “veiled”.

Panic warred with disgust. She needed this job.

She heard the crinkle of the tabloid when he picked it up. “We’re willing to overlook your antics this afternoon because we know that you are a team player. Am I making myself clear?”

Ivy resisted the urge to spin around and tell the old man where he could shove the tabloid and her job. But that couldn’t happen. She could barely afford to pay this month’s rent and she was drowning in debt from her stint on unemployment. And there was no way she could turn to her parents. They had enough on their plate trying to keep their house. The last thing they needed was another mouth to feed.

It was only the thought of having to run back to her parents that gave her the strength to turn around and force a smile. “Understood, Mr. Webster.”

* * * *

Ivy’s studio apartment in Brooklyn was tiny, but it was all hers, and for that she was eternally grateful. Particularly that evening when all she wanted was a hot bath and a glass of wine.

Hours had passed and she still couldn’t get rid of the disgusted feeling. Not even a hot bath could wash it away. For what felt like the millionth time that week, Ivy considered quitting. Oh, it would feel so good. She sank further into the tub and let herself daydream about all the ways she could give her notice. In reality, she would go to bed, wake up, and do it all over again.

She’d moved to the city right after college because she’d landed a great job in an up-and-coming ad agency. But less than two years into the great new job, the recession had hit, and Ivy’s entire office had been liquidated. Hers was a small branch of a large company and the closure of their office had been a necessary sacrifice for the greater good—or so she’d been told.

The hostess gig wasn’t exactly her dream job but it paid the bills and it was steady work after a series of temp jobs. And it wasn’t
all
bad. More and more lately she’d been called in to help the assistant manager with event planning for the hotel and she’d discovered it was something she really enjoyed. She knew there was an opening for an events manager at the hotel. If she could just keep her head down and hold her tongue with Franklin, the job could be hers.

She sighed and sipped her wine. That was a very big “if.”

The front door buzzer rang just as she was stepping out of the tub. Her elderly neighbor Edith liked to stop in for a cup of tea and a chat often and she always seemed to show up at a time when Ivy craved solitude. Sleepy and wet from the bath, she threw on a robe and went to answer the door. She tried to summon a smile for her elderly friend.

“Hi Ed—” The name stuck in her throat as she faced the stranger in her doorway.

This visitor was
not
a harmless old woman.

Ivy’s mouth gaped as she took in the tall man with dark hair and even darker eyes. His shoulders were broad and he wore a well-tailored suit that looked incongruous in the dingy hallway of her apartment building. Behind him stood a nondescript man with an earpiece and ramrod posture.

“Miss Sinclair?” The tall man before her smiled, causing his eyes to crinkle and eased the intimidation factor only slightly.

“Yes?” Ivy cinched her robe tighter. She was keenly aware of the fact that she wore nothing beneath her flimsy robe.

“I’m Daniel Gladwell, I work with Jack Everett. I believe you met him this afternoon?”

Ivy nodded, unable to take her eyes off of the man before her. He had the kind of chiseled features that were usually reserved for statues or actors portraying James Bond. She made a futile attempt to swipe away some of the unruly auburn curls that had escaped from the loose bun atop her head.

She closed the door a little behind her and took a step into the hallway, wary now that the surprise of finding a gorgeous man in her doorway had worn off.

“Can I help you with something?”

The man’s smile grew and he tilted his chin in a charming sort of aw-shucks way, but it was all show—the look in his eyes was strictly business. “Actually, I believe you can. May I come in?”

Ivy hesitated; her small town politeness warred with practical street smarts. “I’d rather not invite strange men into my apartment.”

“Of course.” If he was surprised to be denied, he didn’t let on. “I apologize for the late hour. Jack just informed me of this afternoon’s
interaction
and I wanted to speak with you immediately.”

Now Ivy was truly intrigued. “Is something the matter? Is Jack okay?”

“Oh no, he’s fine. Thanks in no small part to you.”

Heat flooded her cheeks under his watchful gaze. Despite his warm smile and easy demeanor, his eyes were calculating and observant. They seemed to take in everything, from her bare feet to the damp tendrils clinging to her neck.

“That’s actually why I’m here, Miss Sinclair.”

“Call me Ivy, please.”

“I wanted to thank you in person for your assistance today. I’m sure you’re aware of Jack’s fame and fortune—he’s easy fodder for the tabloids.”

Ivy nodded, but she was sure some of the confusion she felt was evident.
Where on earth was he going with this?
She shifted from one foot to the other.

“I came here tonight because I’d like to show you how appreciative we are....”

“We?”

“My business partners and I. There is a lot invested in Jack, and his reputation.”

“I see,” Ivy said politely.

“We’d like to show you our appreciation for your help today and for your discretion in the future.” He was watching her closely for some sort of reaction and it took several moments for Ivy to fully grasp what he was implying.

“You want to pay me to keep my mouth shut?” The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

Only a slight widening of the eyes revealed Daniel’s surprise at her outburst but he recovered quickly. “Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

Daniel gave her a lopsided grin, the first genuine smile she’d seen, and Ivy was very nearly charmed off of her feet.

For a moment she just stared at the man before her, unsure of how she should react. She didn’t know whether she was offended or amused. Amusement won out and she startled both men in her hallway when she burst out with a great peal of laughter.

She slapped a hand over her mouth and let out a little snort as she tried to contain her giggles. “Oh, I’m so sorry, this is just too much.” She waved her hand toward Daniel and the silent man behind him who was watching her with no expression. “I feel like I just stepped into a movie or something. I mean, are you seriously trying to pay me off? If I don’t take it am I going to swim with the fishes?” She giggled again at her own joke.

“Ms. Sin—Ivy, I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“No, no, why would I be offended?” she said, still smothering a laugh. She took a step back into her apartment and started to close her door. “Thank you for the laugh, Daniel, but you don’t need to pay me. I won’t say a word.” She held up three fingers in salute. “Scout’s honor.”

His forehead creased in concern as he gave her a doubtful look that said he wasn’t convinced. He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“Look, I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But believe me when I say I have absolutely no interest in that sort of fame. And if you don’t believe that, then maybe you’ll understand this—the hotel has very strict rules about not speaking to the press about their guests. If I break that rule, I’d be out of a job. If you don’t trust my girl scout’s honor—which is sacred, by the way—then believe me when I say I would never jeopardize my job.”

He studied her for a moment longer and was apparently satisfied with whatever he saw there. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, Ivy. Have a good night.”

* * * *

Ivy didn’t even have a chance to hang up her coat when she arrived at work the next day; she was summoned to the manager’s office the moment she walked through the door.

She was stunned to find Daniel there, leaning against the manager’s desk when she walked in. Both he and Franklin turned to look at her when she entered. Ivy’s stomach sank. This could not be good.

Franklin was the first to react to her arrival. He threw down a copy of that morning’s paper and beckoned her over to take a look. She cautiously edged toward the desk and glanced at the paper spread before her—it was open to the gossip section. Both men seemed to be waiting for a reaction so she took a step closer and looked down.

Ivy’s stomach dropped and she leaned in closer, unable to believe what she was seeing. It couldn’t be. There was a large color photo in the center of the page that showed Jack on his knees before her with a caption that read, “Renowned bachelor Jack Everett may finally have found his bride. Everyone wants to know—who is the lucky lady?” As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was another picture just below that perfectly captured Jack’s ridiculous kiss. “Brilliant billionaire smitten with his mystery woman,” the caption read.

There was a little blurb beside the pictures but Ivy couldn’t tear her gaze away from the image of herself looking like a woman in love. Like a woman being proposed to, no less. This couldn’t be happening.... A rush of adrenaline flooded through her, leaving her shaky and lightheaded. The words blurred before her eyes. She had a feeling she didn’t want to read whatever they’d printed anyways. There was no way there would be one hint of truth to any of it.

“Franklin, may I have a private word with Ivy, please?” Daniel asked.

It wasn’t so much a request as an order. Ivy couldn’t believe anyone would dare to kick the old manager out of his own office but Daniel seemed to be the type to take control of every room he was in. The older man, who normally put the fear of God into Ivy, looked weak and nervous beside him. Franklin nodded and hurried toward the door. Daniel’s face gave nothing away but Franklin’s tight-lipped grimace was more than enough to tell her that she was in trouble. When he passed her on the way out of his office he shot out a hand and gripped her arm roughly. “You will do whatever he says to make this right, do you understand me?”

Ivy nodded and swallowed. This was it—she was going to lose her job.

Daniel leaned against the desk, one leg crossed in front of the other. He was wearing another perfectly tailored suit. This one was a dark gray as opposed to the jet-black suit he’d worn the night before in her hallway but it fit just as well. He was perfectly groomed from the tidy hair to the shined designer shoes. Unlike most men she knew, he looked like he was comfortable in formal attire as though he had been born and raised wearing designer business suits.

He was watching her. His dark eyes scrutinized her every move, and despite his relaxed posture, or maybe because of it, Ivy grew unbearably tense until she had to do something.

The words came spilling out of her mouth. “I had nothing to do with that,” she said, pointing to the newspaper. Her shaking hand seemed to betray her, making her look guilty rather than what she was—horrified. She instantly regretted the outburst. She hated how defensive she sounded.