Mistress to the Magnate: Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation
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“Wow, you look great,” he said, and she knew he wasn’t just saying it to be nice because the nurse had said the same thing.
“I feel really good,” she admitted, and she was pretty sure it had a lot to do with him. Before he came to see her yesterday she had felt so depressed and alone. As though she had nothing to look forward to, no reason to get better. Everything was different now. She was engaged to be married, and had a home to return to. A whole life to explore and relearn. What more could she ask for?
“I got my appetite back in a big way. I just finished breakfast and I’m already anxious for lunch. Although I have to say, the food here leaves a lot to be desired.”
“There’s a diner a few blocks from here that has decent food. Maybe I can pick you up something for lunch, if it’s okay with your doctor.”
“I’ll make sure the nurse asks him. I could go for a big juicy burger and greasy French fries.”
“I didn’t know you liked burgers and fries.”
“What do I usually eat?”
“Salads and chicken mostly. Occasionally you’ll have red meat, but not more than once a week. You’ve always been extremely health conscious.”
“Well, I keep seeing these fast-food ads and every time they show a burger my mouth starts to water. I’ll worry about being health conscious when I’m out of the hospital.” Which was a completely backward way of looking at it, she realized, but she didn’t even care. Eating like a rabbit wouldn’t build her strength and get her the heck out of here.
“A burger and fries it is then,” he said, and he was still hiding whatever it was he was holding behind his back.
“So, are you going to show me what you’ve got there, or make me guess?” she asked.
“You mean this?” he asked, his smile widening as he pulled a laptop from behind him.
“Is that mine?” she asked and he nodded. “I thought it was password protected. Did you talk to the guys at work already?”
He set it in her lap. “I didn’t have to. I made a few educated guesses and figured it out for myself.”
She squealed with excitement. “Oh, my gosh! You’re my hero!”
He regarded her quizzically, as if she had just said something totally off the wall.
“What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Sorry. I just never imagined you as the kind of a woman who would have a hero. You’re far too self-sufficient.”
“Well, I do now,” she said with a smile. “And it’s you.”
She opened the laptop and pressed the button to boot it up, relieved that at least she recalled how. When the password screen popped up, she looked to Ash.
“Type in one, one, nineteen, seventy-five.”
“What is it?”
“My birthday.”
I guess it made sense that she would use her fiancé’s birthday as a password. Unless she didn’t want him getting into her files, which obviously wasn’t an issue. She typed the digits in and the system screen popped up. “It worked!”
“You remember how to use it?”
She nodded. Like so many other things, navigating the computer just seemed to come naturally. She only hoped that the information it contained would spark other memories. Personal memories.
“I’m going to head down to the gift store and see if they have a Wall Street Journal,” Ash said, and Melody nodded, only half listening as she began opening files on her desktop. “If they don’t, I might try to find one at the party store around the block.”
“‘Kay,” she said. “Take your time.”
She started with her e-mail, thinking saved messages would hold the most information, but there weren’t many. And of the dozen or so, most were from Ash. It seemed a little strange, especially being in school, that she didn’t have more, but it was always possible she kept them on an off-site server for safekeeping. Especially if they were for her supposed research, and were of a high security nature.
Or maybe her imagination was getting the best of her again.
She opened her calendar next, going back for several months, and found nothing but her school schedule, a few theater and party dates with Ash, and of course her research trip, which according to this should have ended a few days after her accident. She also found a recent appointment with a wedding planner that they had missed, and realized that not only were they engaged, but apparently they had already set a date. One they would probably be forced to postpone now.
She quit out of her calendar and opened her photo file, but either she kept her pictures online or on a disk, or she wasn’t a very sentimental person, because there were very few. Shots of herself and Ash, mostly. None of friends or fellow students. And none of family, which was no surprise since she didn’t have any.
She did have a vast music library, and while she liked the various songs she sampled, she didn’t relate them to any specific memories or events.
She went through file after file, but not a single thing, not even her school papers, looked familiar to her. She tried to be logical about it. She had barely been out of her coma for four days and the doctor had said it would take time. Logically she knew this, and she was trying to heed his advice. Emotionally though, she felt like putting her fist through the nearest wall.
“I hope you’re not doing schoolwork already!” the nurse said as she walked in to check Melody’s IV. Which was kind of a ridiculous notion, since not only would Melody not have a clue what work had been assigned, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have any idea how to do it. She didn’t remember anything about the law. But she had to cut the nurse some slack. It probably wasn’t often she dealt with amnesia patients.
“I’m just looking at photos and things,” Melody told her. “I was hoping I would remember something.”
“That’s a great idea! How’s it going?”
“Nothing so far.”
She hung a fresh IV bag and tossed the empty one in the trash by the sink. “Dr. Nelson would like to see you up and moving around today. But only with assistance,” she added sternly.
Melody wouldn’t dare try it alone. When she’d taken her shower earlier the nurse had to help her, and she had to shower sitting down. Her legs felt like limp spaghetti noodles and she was so dizzy she was having trouble staying upright.
“We could take a few practice steps right now,” the nurse suggested, a not-so-subtle nudge, but Melody wasn’t quite ready to put her computer aside.
“Could we maybe do it after lunch?” she asked.
“All right, but don’t put it off too long. You need to rebuild your strength.”
Melody knew that better than everyone else. And though walking might still be a challenge, she could feel herself improving by leaps and bounds. She gave most of the credit to Ash.
He’d given her something to fight for.
Five
After the nurse left, Melody went back to the photo file on her computer and opened a few of herself and Ash. When she looked at herself, it was still a bit like looking at a stranger. It was her, but not exactly her.
Her clothes were obviously expensive and quite form-fitting. The healthy eating must have paid off because she was very trim and fit—although now, after being in the coma, she looked a little gaunt. She seemed to like to show off her cleavage, which admittedly she had a fair amount of. She peeked under her hospital gown at her breasts and decided that she must own some pretty amazing push-up bras.
In the photos her hair was always fixed in a sleek and chic style that she couldn’t help thinking must have taken ages in front of the bathroom mirror to perfect. So unlike the casual, wavy locks she was sporting now. Also, she wore a considerable amount of makeup and it was always flawlessly applied. She looked very well put together.
Just the thought of the time it must have taken to get ready each morning left her feeling exhausted. Maybe, when she was up and around again, she would feel differently. Although she couldn’t help thinking she looked a bit … vain. But she was sure these photos represented only a small segment of her life. Who didn’t like to look good for pictures? And she couldn’t deny that she and Ash made one heck of a good-looking couple.
How would he feel if she didn’t go back to being that perfectly put together woman? Would he be disappointed? Or did he love her for the woman inside?
The latter, she hoped. If not, would he be here by her side while she healed?
“Still at it?” the man in question said, and she looked up to find him standing at the foot of the bed. Ash was holding a newspaper in one hand and a brown paper sack in the other.
“You’re back already?” she asked.
“Already? I’ve been gone almost two hours.”
“Has it really been that long?” She would have guessed twenty-five or thirty minutes.
“I had to make a few calls to work, and I figured you wouldn’t mind the time alone. Which apparently you didn’t.” He nodded to her computer. “Any luck?”
She closed the computer and shook her head, trying not to let it discourage her, or to dwell on it. “I’ve looked at pretty much all of it and I don’t recognize a thing.” She gestured to the bag he was holding. “What’s that?”
“I stopped at the nurses’ station on my way out this morning, and they called the doctor, who said there’s no reason to have you on a restricted diet, so.” He pulled a white foam restaurant container from the bag. “Your burger and fries, madam.”
The scent of the food wafted her way and her mouth instantly started to water. Now she knew why she was marrying Ash. He was clearly the sweetest man in the world.
“You’re wonderful!” she said as he set it on her tray. “I can see why I fell in love with you.”
He gave her another one of those funny looks, as though the sentiment was totally unexpected or out of character.
“What? Don’t tell me I’ve never said I love you.”
“It’s not that. I just.” He shook his head. “I just didn’t expect to hear anything like that so soon. I guess I figured you would have to take the time to get to know me again.”
“Well, I sure like what I’ve seen so far.” She opened the container top, her taste buds going berserk in anticipation. Her stomach growled and, up until that instant, she didn’t even realize she was hungry. She automatically grabbed a packet of ketchup, tore it open with her teeth, and drizzled it over her fries. Ash pulled out a similar container for himself and set it beside hers on the tray, but his was a BLT with coleslaw. He sat on the edge of the mattress near her to eat.
The fries were greasy and salty, and by far the best thing Melody had eaten in days. Or maybe ever. And when she took a bite of her burger it was pure nirvana.
“How did your calls to work go?” she asked. “Are they upset that you’ll be gone for a while?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter how they feel. They don’t have a say in the matter.”
She frowned. “I would feel awful if I got you in trouble, or even worse, if you got fired because of me.”
“Don’t worry. They aren’t going to fire me. I’m the best damned CFO they’ve ever had. Besides, they know that if they did let me go, their competitor, Golden Gate Promotions, would probably snap me up. The owner, Athos Koteas, would do just about anything for an edge. And that would be very bad for Maddox.”
“Not if your contract has a noncompete clause,” she said, stuffing a fry in her mouth. “Working for a competitor would be a direct breach. They could sue the pants off you. And I’m sure they would.”
When she glanced up, Ash had gone still with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, and he was giving her that “look” again. Why did he keep doing that? “What? Do I have ketchup on my face or something?”
“Mel, do you realize what you just said?”
She hit rewind and ran it through her head again, stunned when the meaning of her words sank in. “I was talking like a lawyer.”
Ash nodded.
“Oh, my gosh! I didn’t even think about it. It just. popped out.” A huge smile crept across her face. “I remembered something!”
Granted it was nothing important, or personal, but it was something. She tried to dredge up some other legal jargon, but her mind went blank. Maybe that was just the way it was going to be. Maybe it would come back in little bits and pieces. At that rate she would have her full memory back by the time she and Ash retired, she thought wryly.
“For the record,” he said, “I did have a noncompete clause and they removed it when I refused to sign.”
Maybe it was her imagination, but she had the feeling Ash didn’t share in her happiness. It was as if he thought her remembering something was a bad thing.
It was just one more little thing that seemed … off.
She shook the thought away. She was being ridiculous. Of course he wanted her to remember things. Didn’t he? What reason would he have not to?
That, she realized, was what she needed to find out.
That had been a close call, Ash thought as he and Mel ate lunch. In hindsight, bringing her computer might not have been the brightest idea he’d ever had, but doing it today, instead of waiting until they got back to San Francisco, had sort of been an accident. He’d grabbed it on his way out the door when he left for the hospital. He didn’t like the idea of leaving it in the room, for fear that it might be stolen. But as he climbed into his rental, the interior, at nine in the morning, was already about a million degrees. Assuming he would be in the hospital most of the day, it didn’t seem wise to leave the laptop in the car, in the blistering heat.
What choice did he have but to bring it into the hospital with him, and as a result, give it to Melody? What if it did spark a memory? Was he willing to jeopardize his plans? He’d been up half the night removing personal information, so it seemed unlikely anything would shake loose a memory.
To confuse her, and hopefully buy himself a little more time, he not only removed things from the computer, but added a few things, as well.
To give her the impression they attended social functions together—when in reality they rarely went out socially—he added a few entries for fictional theater dates and parties. He also included a meeting with a wedding planner, which he thought was a nice touch. One they had regretfully missed because Mel had been missing.
The most brilliant switch, in his opinion, was her music. He knew from experience that some songs evoked specific memories or feelings. Like the knot he got in his stomach whenever he heard “Hey Jude” by the Beatles, the song that was playing the day he drove home to break the good news about his promotion and found his ex in bed with her personal trainer.
So, he deleted Mel’s entire music catalog and replaced it with his own music library. Mel had always preferred current pop music, while he listened to classic rock and jazz. There wasn’t much chance that would be jogging any memories.
Now he was wondering if that hadn’t been enough. Or maybe the memories were going to come back regardless. Either way, he didn’t want to panic prematurely. Remembering something about the law was still a far cry from regaining her personal memories.
He looked over at Melody and realized she’d stopped eating with nearly half her burger and fries still left.
“Full already?” he asked.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked. “Something you don’t want me to know?”
The question came so far out of left field he was struck dumb for several seconds, and when his brain finally kicked back in he figured it would be in his best interest to play dumb. “What do you mean?”
She pushed her tray aside. “I just get this nagging feeling that you’re hiding something from me.”
He could play this one of two ways. He could act angry and indignant, but in his experience that just screamed guilty. So instead he went for the wounded angle.
He pasted on a baffled expression and said, “God, Mel, why would you think that? If I did or said something to hurt your feelings.” He shrugged helplessly.
The arrow hit its mark. Melody looked crushed.
“Of course you haven’t. You’ve been wonderful.” She reached out and put her hand on his forearm. “You’ve done so much for me and I’m acting completely ungrateful. Just forget I said anything.”
He laid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “You suffered a severe head injury. You were in a coma for two weeks.” He flashed her a sympathetic smile. “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”
Her smile was a grateful one. And of course, he felt like slime for playing on her emotions. For using it to his advantage.
Remember what she did to you, he told himself. Although, one thing he couldn’t deny was that Melody was not the woman she’d been before the accident. In the past, she never would have confronted him this way with her suspicions. Yet, at the same time, she was much softer and compassionate than she used to be. Not to mention uncharacteristically open with her emotions.
When she told him she loved him he’d felt … well, he honestly wasn’t sure what he’d felt. It was just … unusual. No one had said that to him in a long time. He and his wife had stopped expressing sentiments of love long before the final meltdown. The pain of their breakup had been less about lost love than the humiliation of her deceit, and his own stupidity for not seeing her for what she really was.
In the long run he honestly believed she had done him a favor, although he could have done without seeing the proof with his own eyes.
Even if Melody thought she loved Ash, she obviously didn’t mean it or she wouldn’t have cheated on him in the first place. Besides, their relationship wasn’t about love. It was more about mutual respect and convenience. She was only saying what she thought she was supposed to say. She probably just assumed that she would never be engaged to a man she didn’t love. But that was all part of the plan, wasn’t it? To make her believe that they were in love. And apparently it was working.
He couldn’t deny that in her current condition, he was having a tough time keeping a grip on the anger he’d felt when he learned about her pregnancy. He was sure that once he got her back home and she started acting like her old self, the wounds would feel fresh again. He would approach the situation with a renewed sense of vengeance.
He was counting on it.
Six days after Ash arrived in Abilene, after showing what Dr. Nelson said was remarkable progress, Melody was finally released from the hospital. An orderly wheeled her down to the front entrance, her heart pounding in anticipation of finally being free, and as they exited the building, a wall of hot, dry air washed over her.
She hoped their place in San Francisco had a courtyard or a balcony, because after being cooped up in the hospital for so long, she wanted to spend lots of time outside. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, felt the sun beat down hot on her face as she was wheeled from under the awning to the curb where Ash waited with his rental car. It was barely 10:00 a.m. and it had to be pushing ninety degrees. The sun was so bright, she had to raise a hand to shade her eyes. She wasn’t sure of the make of the vehicle, but it looked expensive.
Ash had dressed casually for the trip, in jeans and a T-shirt, and Melody didn’t miss the group of nurses following him with their eyes, practically drooling on their scrubs.
Look all you like ladies, but he’s mine.
Not that Melody blamed them for gawking. He looked hot as hell dressed that way. The shirt accentuated the width of his shoulders and showed off the lean muscle in his arms, and the jeans hugged his behind in a way that gave her impure thoughts. She could hardly wait until she was feeling well enough to have sex again. Right now, if she did anything marginally taxing, her head began to pound.
As soon as they reached the car Ash opened the door. A rush of cool air cut through the heat as he helped her from the chair to the front seat. The interior was soft black leather, and it had what looked like a top-of-the-line sound and navigation system. Ash got her settled in and helped with her seat belt, and as he leaned over her to fasten it, he smelled so delicious she wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck and take a nibble. When he seemed convinced she was securely fastened in, with her seat as far back as it would go—just in case the airbag deployed and bonked her head, rattling her already compromised brain—he walked around and got in the driver’s side. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“I am so ready.”
He turned the key and the engine hummed to life, and as he pulled from the curb and down the driveway toward the road, she had this odd feeling of urgency. She felt that if he didn’t hurry, the staff members were going to change their minds and chase her down like a fugitive, or an escaped mental patient, and make her go back to that awful room.
It wasn’t until he pulled out onto the main road and hit the gas, and the hospital finally disappeared out of sight, that she could breathe easy again. She was finally free. As long as she lived, she hoped she never had to stay in a hospital room again.
He glanced over at her. “You all right?”
“I am now.”
“You’re comfortable?” he asked.
“Very.” He’d brought her suitcase to the hospital and she’d chosen a pair of jeans and a cotton shirt to start the trip. She’d tried to find a bra she liked, but either they were push-up and squeezed her breasts to within an inch of her life or they were made of itchy lace, so she’d opted not to wear one at all. As long as she didn’t get cold, or pull her shirt taut, it was kind of hard to tell. Besides, it was just her and Ash and he’d seen her breasts plenty of times before.
The jeans were comfortable, and although at one point she was guessing they were pretty tight, now they hung off her. Despite her constant cravings for food, her eyes were bigger than her stomach, but Dr. Nelson assured her that her appetite would return.
She’d opted to wear flip-flops on her feet and toed them off the instant she was in the car, keeping them within reach should she happen to need them.
Other than the dull ache in her temples, she couldn’t be more comfortable.
“If you need to stop for any reason just let me know,” Ash told her. “And if the driving gets to be too much we’ll stop and get a hotel room.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” If it were at all possible, she wished they could drive straight through until they got to San Francisco, but it was a twenty-four-hour trip and she knew Ash would have to sleep at some point. Still, she wanted to stay on the road as long as possible. The sooner they got home, the better. She was convinced that once she was there, surrounded by her own possessions, her memories would begin to return.
Ash turned onto the I-20 on-ramp, hit the gas and zoomed onto the freeway, shooting like a rocket into traffic.
“This is pretty nice for a rental,” she told him.
“It’s not a rental,” he said as he maneuvered left into the fast lane. “This is my car.”
His car? “I thought you flew here.”
“I did, but I wanted you to be comfortable on the way home so I arranged to have my car brought to Texas. It arrived yesterday morning.”
That couldn’t have been cheap. She’d never asked Ash about their financial situation, but apparently CFOs at San Francisco ad agencies made decent money.
“It looks expensive,” she said. “The car, I mean.”
He shrugged. “I like nice cars.”
“So I guess you do okay? Financially.”
He flashed her a side glance, one of those funny looks that had become so familiar this past week. “Are you asking how much I make?”
“No! Of course not. It’s just, well … you wear expensive clothes and drive an expensive car. So I’m assuming you make a decent living, that’s all.”
“I do okay,” he said, a grin kicking up one corner of his mouth, as though the idea of her even asking amused him. And she knew that if she asked exactly how much he made, he would probably tell her. It just wasn’t that important.