Billionaire Romance: Darque Initiation (A Darque Billionaire Romance Book 1) Read online

  Hello Arabella. Thank you for staying at my guest accommodations. Please help yourself to breakfast in the kitchen. I have a cab waiting for you, in case you’d like to go to work…you know, if that sort of thing matters to you.

  Work? On a Saturday morning?

  She shook off her confusion. One thing was for sure—she wasn’t happy being in this stranger’s house. So she quickly got dressed, finding last night’s clothes neatly folded on a dresser, right before exiting the cold and empty place. She helped herself to a less-than-continental breakfast, speaking of a piece of toast and some orange juice.

  Whoever her ‘travel concierge’ was for the night, he even had the courtesy to recharge her cell phone using one of his docking devices. She checked her messages. Ten unheard voice mails and five texts!

  Uh oh. What did she miss? This is Saturday morning, isn’t it?

  Oh God, she thought as she heard Abrams’ panicked tone on her voice mail. “Where are you, Bella? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night. The Darques have called an emergency meeting. Everyone on the project has to be here by ten. That’s you! He requested you specifically! Hurry the hell up!”

  “Shit!” she said in a frantic voice, grabbing her clothes and purse and scurrying out of the house, looking for the cab. Thankfully, the handsome stranger was considerate enough to know she might need a cab, though his timing was a bit conspicuous.

  As she took the cab to work, she cursed the day that Saturday morning was ruined for her. Responsibility, stress—on a Saturday! She knew she was going to hate Reputation Management, and sure enough, that blasted, soulless career lived up to its reputation just fine. Wherever she was, whoever this guy was, it was an important part of town. The Watergate Complex area on New Hampshire Avenue. He was definitely a successful type, and so odd of him not to rub it in her face.

  She arrived at work, about thirty minutes past ten, and by the time she entered everyone was giving her the evil eye.

  “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to be called in,” she moaned, trying to hide the fact that she was hung over and barely seeing straight.

  “Glad you could join us, Bella,” Abrams said, already irritated. But he moved his attention back toward the client who was already there and already talking business.

  “Sorry,” she whispered so low she might as well have mouthed it.

  Then as she turned her chin up, her hope was dashed to pieces. There he was the head of the Darque Campaign himself—Bastien. And he looked…surprisingly like the guy from the bar.

  Holy Shit! she said with her eyes and gaping mouth. The same guy who saw her get totally wasted. The same guy who took her home, put her to bed, fed her, and then told her to get to the hell to work in the nicest way possible.

  “No, no, no, no…” she muttered to herself, feeling the inevitable firing to come. She was not only late, she had made a fool of herself in front of the firm’s biggest client to date. It really was the end of the world, wasn’t it?

  Well, look on the bright side, her mother’s overly critical voice said inside her head—as always. At least you won’t have to work in reputation management much longer.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a catastrophe, she tried to rationalize, all the while pretending to listen to Bastien’s long-winded speech on the Darque name. Maybe Bastien Darque—oh, God, the man I tried to kiss last night in drunken whore state—is amused at the whole thing. Maybe he likes me. Maybe I’m freaking out for nothing. I know…I’ll look over at him and smile. And maybe then he’ll let me know everything is all right.

  She looked over to meet his eyes and half-smiled.

  Bastien met her for just a split second and glared. He wasn’t amused. He was downright sharky and snarky looking. A razor’s edge of a frown and barking orders at the men like they were all personally responsible for his bad day. His brusque tone of voice was menacing, sounding like every young executive from Hell, trying to browbeat everyone into total self-loathing cooperation.

  “I don’t think there’s anything more to say on it,” he said. “Go and do your jobs. My family’s name has been dragged through the mud. But I have full confidence that you will fix this. We have invested a lot of money in making sure you fix this. Do your job. Don’t make me come back here. Understood?”

  The room chanted in agreement. Meanwhile, Bella went into shivers and jitters, thinking of how out of place she felt in the room. Not just a fish out of water, but downright alien. She knew she was offensively underqualified to be here. And to top it all off, she had already lost the boss’ confidence in the worst first date ever, in the history of humanity.

  After Bastien dismissed the room of suits, and didn’t bother singling her out for a hello, she quickly ran up to Carter Abrams and whined in desperation.

  “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  “I called you two hours ago.”

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t get the message. But please, can we just talk out in the hallway?”

  “Make it snappy,” he said, snapping back at her as they walked out to an empty hallway.

  “Mister Abrams? Please…take me off this case?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “This whole thing has been a disaster. Just please let me go. Let me work on something else.”

  “Work on something else?” he said with a scowl. “Aren’t you still going for your Master’s in Marketing? This internship is part of your record, Bella. You know that.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “It’s him. I can’t work for him.”

  “Who? Darque? Bella, you’re going to be dealing with a lot of men like him. It’s just public relations.”

  “No, no. You don’t understand! I know him. I can’t work for him.”

  “You mean…you know him, know him?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I…no, not like that,” she corrected, rolling her eyes. “I just don’t think our personalities mesh well. I don’t think…”

  “Bella, this is part of your internship. I respect that you have strong objections to his character. But this is part of the life. You have to suck it up. You have to finish the job. At the end of the day, it’s why we’re all here. Don’t you want to finish your Master’s? And have a good internship experience?”

  “Yes…”

  “Then with all due respect, Miss Stone,” he said, always compassionate but always careful not to turn his concern into sexism. “Shut up and deal. We’ll pretend we didn’t have this conversation. Okay?”

  She sighed and shut her eyes in resignation. Yes, it really was that bad.

  By the time she mustered enough nerve to back in there and face her fears, many of the workers and other interns had cleared, including Bradley, who had already given Mister Darque a hard manly handshake, proving his worth. Darque wasn’t much for talking to the everyday worker…but since this was about public relations, and improving the family’s image, he figured he should make some attempt to seem approachable.

  “Arabella,” he said, minus a smile.

  “Hi…ummm, Bastien Darque. Mister Darque.” She was mortified and struggled to remain in his eye line while also trying not to laugh, as per Abrams words, and not to blush because of well…the whole made-a-damned-fool-of-herself thing.

  “I believe we’ve met,” he said, finally forming a half-smile.

  “Yes…I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize who you were. And I guess I was the last one. I’m sorry! I don’t keep up with politics and reputations. Journalism is my passion.”

  “Ah. Interesting. So reporting the truth is what appeals to you?”

  “Uh…yeah, I guess that’s a safe thing to say.”

  “And the illusion of truth, as presented by a biased media…that’s what makes you uncomfortable.”

  She smiled and chortled—just short of a full laugh, which sounded too girly for the world of politics. “Yes, that’s a fairly accurate summary of my character, Mister Darque. I wish
we could have had a normal conversation like this for our first meeting.”

  “First impressions count. But remember, Arabella. Consistency is more important than first impressions. At least in our line of work.”

  “Good advice,” she said with a long smile.

  “Let’s go to dinner.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I asked for you specifically on this case, Arabella. I like your approach. I like your work.” He didn’t even look down or check her out…as if to make a power play. He didn’t have to. He believed everything he said. “I think it’s what this campaign needs.”

  “Dinner? Like now? Afterhours?”

  “It’s about the account. It’s just business.” He stopped short of a smile but sent her a ravishing stare…the kind of ambiguous, formal look he probably gave every client who loved the charisma of the Darque family.

  “Okay.”

  “Oh and please dress for dinner. It’s a formal dining affair with a dress code. I trust you’ll use…good judgment,” he said, giving her one last glance but not bothering to linger, before he took off to take care of further business. “I’ll email you the location later.”

  From nervous intern to disastrous first interview to first date with one of the most powerful men in the country. Just another day in Reputation Management, she thought to herself with a sulk.

  *****

  Chapter 5

  The business date was on and Bella fretted with Alicia, wondering what might be appropriate to where in front of the man that knew far too much about you, and way too soon. Alicia suggested that Bella dress in something sexy, since Bastien was obviously hitting on her and not in the least bit interested in ‘business.’

  But Bella objected to the thought. “I think he really wants to talk business. I told you, he resisted taking me to bed when I was drunk last night.”

  “Yeah, but that’s what any decent guy would do, Bella. I think it’s probably hard for him to date, with who he is and everything. So maybe you need to be a little flirty and let him know it’s okay. That you’re not going to cry sexual harassment or anything.”

  “I don’t even know what sexy is. I’m a journalist first and foremost. I think sexy is a weatherwoman dress.”

  “I’ll fix you up, don’t worry. I think you ought to go for charming not desperate. Wear a necklace, something thick. Curly hair. And maybe showing off your shoulders. You have wonderful clavicles, you know.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Really sexy. But at the same time, it’s formal. Like something you’d wear to an Oscar party. White I think is your color.”

  “Why white?”

  “White or light blue. I think that’s why Darque likes you. He likes your innocence.”

  “Well, I’m not that innocent. You know, Bradley.”

  “Bradley? Seriously? Trust me, dear, you’re still an innocent.”

  Bella was made up and did look stunning as she arrived in the so-called Oscar dress, with a top that hugged her forearms and showed shoulders, but not too much cleavage. After all, she had to show her boss that she was business first. And hopefully only business, since she already proved she was a lightweight when it came to flirting.

  Bella was informed by email that a car would pick her up. A limousine, in fact, and the driver was very friendly—no doubt paid well for the night. The car drove Bella back to Bastien’s place, just as she remembered, at the Watergate Complex. The most opulent penthouses this side of the Potomac, and a lifestyle that only the rich and powerful were accustomed to.

  When she arrived, she ended up waiting on him, patiently standing in the guest library while the kitchen staff prepared the dining room. She refused a seat and a glass of wine by a staff member, opting instead to take the journalist’s view of the evening.

  Then she started thinking—why does Darque even need me here? Is this a test? Maybe he’s using the guise of a flirtatious dinner to test me. Or to appeal to the reporter that he knows I am. Maybe he wants to give me his side, his story. A better view of his family’s lifestyle. Or maybe he just wants me to feel better about how awful last night went. He was nice enough not to fire me. I have to give him that.

  Bastien finally arrived, suited up and looking quite elegant, as if dressed for an appearance at the White House—and perhaps he might make that trip someday, if the project went well.

  However, as soon as Bastien began speaking, the friendly air seemed to vanish. It wasn’t that he was overly formal, it was simply that Bella was unsure how to act and what to focus on. Was she a journalist? Was she a woman or just an intern here to learn?

  Her instincts told her, that no matter what Bastien had in mind, good or evil, she had an obligation to report the truth.

  “So, let’s talk about you,” he said carefully, pulling out the chair and helping her take a seat. “You’re a journalist. You want to make the world a better place.”

  “Well, yes. Wouldn’t you say that’s what all young people want?”

  “Perhaps the ones that take their careers seriously. What I like about you, Arabella, is that you are intent to play by the rules.” He took his seat.

  “Well…yes. Isn’t that our obligation?”

  “Our?” he said with a smile.

  “Journalists. Politicians. The ones who shape the world.”

  “Hmmm,” he said with a pained smile and a stifled laugh. “What do you know about my mother? The senator?”

  “She’s ambitious, that’s for sure.”

  “She is that. And one of the most arrogant and callous human beings who ever wanted that throne. And that’s saying a lot, isn’t it?”

  “Well…” She couldn’t help but laugh. His brutal honesty caught her off guard, and the reporter in her took a break to enjoy a flirty laugh. Oh God, was she really flirting? With him?

  “Your job is to make her look good. To sweep everything under the carpet. My job is…well, to love her anyway. Because that’s family.”

  “Good point. But actually, my job at Haschell is to make you look good. That’s our priority. The senator will fight her own battles.”

  “True. And do you think you have your work cut out for you?”

  “Well…do you want the truth?”

  “Why would I want anything but the truth, Arabella?”

  “The truth…well, there have been lots of rumors. About…you.”

  “What do they say about me?”

  “Well…permission to speak freely.”

  “Permission to speak honestly. Always.”

  “There have been stories. About your…well, certain proclivities.”

  “My proclivities? What does that mean?”

  “Certain stories about the choices you make. Your social life.”

  “You mean my sex life?” he said with a calm but grinning face.

  “Yes, that’s our main area of concern.”

  “Well everyone needs a social life. But you’re specifically saying that there’s something wrong with my sex life. Is that the truth?”

  “Morally speaking, no. All I’m saying…”

  “Well morally speaking, what are they saying? There’s nothing wrong with being single and unspoken for, is there Arabella?”

  “Morally speaking, no. I guess the main focus is the stories we’ve heard about you…well, hurting women.”

  “Hurting women?”

  “Yes. Are you denying that?”

  “Have I hurt you?”

  “No, no you haven’t.”

  “I admit to being…a man that is fascinated with beautiful woman. I am not monogamous by nature. I see something that I want, I take it.”

  “Or her? In this case? You reach out and take HER, as if she were a thing.”

  “In this case?” he said with a sly smile.

  “I mean, not in this case!” she laughed. “I mean in terms of hurting women. You objectify them. You’re not what the press would call a nice guy, Bastien Darque.”

  “Hmmm. No, I guess I’m
not,” he said with a smile. “I don’t chase after the one woman who doesn’t want me. I don’t write love poetry for a certain someone, a soul mate who may exist somewhere on the other side of the planet who completely understands me.”

  He lowered his visage and stared into her eyes. “I love women. The one I happen to meet in a club, or while touring a museum in an exotic country. The one standing right in front of me. The one who, Fate, as the poets might call it, brought to me. That’s who I like. I fear nothing. I love much. And beauty is my only weakness. The woman standing, sitting, in front of me has my attention. Is that a moral sin?”

  “Well…proverbially speaking.”

  “No, not proverbially speaking. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Oh come on.” she said with a laugh.

  “Did I not tell you the first time we met? Even in your deplorable state, you still charmed me. Your eyes, your smile. Your… naïveté. Some people see it as a flaw. I see it as a trait, one that never dies…one that characterizes a person for their entire life. I don’t think of it as just naïveté. I think it’s better referred to as, believing in the best of people. Staying optimistic even in a world drained of morals.”

  She giggled, and quickly quieted. She felt intrigued, flattered, maybe even excited at the prospect of such a big name interested in her. But he couldn’t mean it, could he? He had to be playing a game, or doing another test.

  “I’m not from your world, Bastien. I’m interning. I’m from a middle class family. I’m…curvy. I’m just not your type of supermodel conquest.”

  “And maybe that’s why I like you.”

  She laughed, an extended laugh that Darque found amusing. She hid her eyes in the silverware and hummed with just a hint of a blushing face. “So…what are we having tonight?”

  “Mediterranean, of course. I believe you shared that as a personal interest on your resume.”