On His Terms (The Arrangement Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Is this the first trip she is accompanying you?”

  “Yes,” he admits. “I travel a lot for business but rarely bring someone with me.”

  “I’m sure everything will go smoothly. You have a good selection of clothing options for her–there is something here for casual dinners and others if you need her to attend something more formal.”

  “You’re right… I think you have everything covered.”

  “If you think of something you need, just call the store before your trip and I’ll have something ready for you.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Rose,” he shakes my hand as he leaves.

  I arrange for the items to be delivered to the address Bridget had put on file for Mr. Thompson before Nancy tells me to take a dinner break. Since I wasn’t originally scheduled to work so many hours today, she gives me an hour instead of the standard half an hour to grab some food. Seeing as I’m struggling to stay awake, my first stop is going to be to the overpriced coffee shop, which is just within walking distance of the store. Having packed my meal as usual, I grab my lunch bag and umbrella before heading out. I wish it were sunny and dry out but at least it’s somewhat warm out today. When the wind blows the rain onto me, I’m left wishing I had a grabbed a jacket when I left my apartment this morning.

  I’m only a block away from the coffee shop when the sidewalk becomes increasingly crowded as people rush home from work. I’m forced to the edge, left walking too close to the curb but the crowd gives me no option as people just seem to push their way through to get where they want to go. Despite everyone else being in a hurry, for once I’m not… having an hour for a dinner break is far more time than I need. I’m going to grab my coffee, hopefully find an empty table where I can eat my sandwich and read the book I brought along. I love getting lost in a good book but most days like today I don’t have much time to read except for my break. Tomorrow…

  Splash

  A shiny black car swerves dangerously close to the curb, blaring its horn, splashing me with water and drenching me from the waist down.

  “Shit!”

  “Excuse me… Ms… “ a gentleman in a dark, dry, suit exits the driver’s side of the car and rushes over to me. “I am so sorry—“

  “It’s fine,” I shake my head sighing. Is it possible to catch a break at all today?

  “No it’s not,” another gentleman gets out of the car, this time from the back seat, and walks over to where the I’m trying to brush the dirt and water from my clothes, not that it’s doing much good. This man is dressed in a very expensive dark grey suit with an equally expensive blue tie. He runs his hands through his unruly hair as his blue eyes meet mine. He looks right at me, almost as if he is looking through me. My eyes land on his feet, not being able to handle the way he is looking at me. I continue to try to brush my clothes, even though it’s obvious there is no chance for quick evaporation.

  “I cannot apologize enough,” the first man says. “The guy in front of us slammed on his brakes without warning and I had to swerve to avoid hitting him. I didn’t expect the puddle to be so large and certainly didn’t expect it to hit you like it did.”

  “Really, it’s not a big deal.” It’s a partial lie because really I’m now stuck spending my dinner break buying a new outfit with money I really don’t have. “Accidents happen.”

  “Please, let me take you somewhere to buy you something to wear,” the second man says. “I don’t want you getting sick—“

  “That’s very nice of you to offer, but unfortunately I’m on my dinner break from work, so I don’t have much time. I’ll run and grab a change of clothes before I head back to work… it’s fine really.”

  “Here,” the second man takes a few bills from his pocket and hands them to me.

  “No—“ I push against his hand.

  “Look, it’s our fault that outfit is ruined, so at least let me pay for you to get a new one—“

  “It’s really not necessary—“

  “It is,” he takes my hand in his, opening my fist up so he can put the bills in it before wrapping my fingers around it. “Please, take the money, it’s the least I can do, considering we’ve probably ruined your evening.”

  “It’s not ruined,” I giggle at the big deal he is making over this. “Really, it’s fine. These things happen. Thank you for offering to replace the clothes but it’s really—“

  “Good bye, Ms… ”

  With that both men walk away from me, cutting me off mid-sentence as I’m left standing on the sidewalk with a handful of money that I was trying to give back. The first man opens the back door for the second one, who turns and smiles at me before getting into the car. It’s only then that I realize they both came out of the car without an umbrella and are now probably just as soaked as I am. I shake my head at the irony, given that they were the ones who splashed me and yet ended up getting soaked themselves.

  I quickly shove the money into my purse, not wanting to stand in a crowd openly holding money and risk drawing attention to myself. I glance at my watch, realizing I barely have enough time to grab my coffee before I need to head back to the store. I’ll never have time to eat my dinner, although it’s probably not a bad thing, since I realize in the chaos of everything my lunch bag had fallen to the ground and was now lying in the offending puddle that splashed me.

  Despite everything, I return to work in a better mood then when I left. The fact that there are still decent people in this world makes me smile. The driver of the car that splashed me could have easily kept driving, yet he stopped and physically got out of his car to apologize. He didn’t simply roll his window down and yell an apology like most would. Instead he and the person he was with, both took the time to get out of their car and walk over to me. As if an apology wasn’t enough, they insisted on paying to replace my outfit that again was beyond what I expected from.

  “Oh Kenzie! What happened?” Nancy rushes towards me as soon as I open the staff entrance.

  “A car swerved to miss hitting another car but instead hit a large puddle right next to where I was standing,” I shrug.

  “Take as much time as you need to get cleaned up,” she checks the schedule. “It looks like you have a little while before your next appointment. You’ll probably need to purchase something else to wear, though. I don’t think you’ll be able to clean those pants enough in the restroom.”

  “I know,” I sigh, not really wanting to spend money on something I really don’t need. “I’ll find something and change quickly.”

  I clean up as much as I can in the staff restroom before heading onto the main floor of the department store. When you work in a place like this, image is everything. We’re expected to wear clothes from the store we work in and our physical appearance is said to be a direct representation of the store. Therefore, I need to be quick in grabbing an outfit and getting off the main floor before too many people see me in my grime covered pants.

  Unfortunately time is not on my side, therefore I can’t bargain hunt like I normally do when I shop here. The first section outside the personal shopper area is career/professional which thankfully works for what I need right now. I grab a tan skirt and stockings before ducking back into the staff restroom. My shoes are soaked, but after wiping them down with a paper towel you can’t notice anything, so I choose to wear them rather than spending even more money on a new pair. I pull the tags from the clothes, throw my wet pants and socks into a bag in my locker and head out to meet Nancy for her to ring up my purchases.

  “Much better, Kenzie,” she smiles taking in my new outfit. “I’m sure you must feel better to be out of those wet clothes.”

  “I do,” I agree. “There’s nothing worse than walking a few blocks in a pair of wet pants.”

  “I can agree with that,” she laughs. “When I first moved here I left to get to work in a hurry and forgot my umbrella. The weather report said there was only a fifty percent chance of showers so I took a chance. I ended up walking six blocks in a pair o
f soaking wet jeans after getting caught in a sun shower.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Ever since then, I carry an umbrella, even if they’re not calling for rain.”

  “Well, hopefully this will be the last time I get caught like this. Here are the tags for my skirt and pantyhose that I need to purchase.”

  “With your discount, your total is $73.98.”

  I reach into my purse for my wallet, when my hand finds the cash that the man in the black car gave me. Hoping it covers at least half of the cost of this outfit, I pull the bills out and begin counting them. I force myself not to curse aloud when I realize the man gave me $200… me a complete stranger on the street, and he hands ten $20 bills like it was nothing to him.

  “Kenzie?” Nancy pulls me from my thoughts.

  “Sorry, here you go,” I give her $80 in cash, hiding the rest in my purse until I’m able lock it back up.

  “Here’s your receipt, I’m sorry I can’t give you any more time—“

  “No, it’s fine. I’m going to put my stuff away and then I’ll get started pulling selections for my next appointment.”

  Thankfully the rest of my day doesn’t get any worse and by the time I leave, the rain has completely stopped and my shoes have dried. Half an hour later, I’m home, completely exhausted, but home. I consider making something to eat, but the need for sleep quickly becomes a priority. I lock the front door, set my alarm on my phone and fall asleep still in the new clothes that I bought earlier today, having no energy to change.

  Chapter 3

  Nicholas

  “Fuck!” I slam another magazine on my desk. “Melody get a meeting with Alex and my PR department in an hour. Move whatever you have to, just make it happen!”

  I’m used to my face being on magazines… the paparazzi have been hounding me ever since I made my first million. Apparently becoming a millionaire at such a young age is newsworthy, which would have been fine if it were a one-time article. When I made my first billion it became even worse and now not a week goes by without my name appearing in some article or on some magazine cover. Typically they are business related articles and magazines, which doesn’t bother me, as they often refer to me as the shark of the financial world.

  Lately though the articles have become personal, attacking me on a different level that I don’t understand. Why do they care who I’m fucking? What does it matter whether or not I’m seen with a woman on my arm or different women at different events? My business decisions do not change based upon who I’m fucking, so why is it necessary to attack my personal life? The magazine on my desk today is the icing on the cake:

  Playboy Nicholas Parker… Can’t keep a woman happy but can manage hundreds of employees? What is he hiding that prevents women from spending more than a night with him? How could so many people trust him with their investments while no woman can trust him in her bedroom?

  The article shows several pictures of me attending various events over the last three months, each time with a different woman. Typically I don’t pay attention to this junk, but when Carter, my head of security, brought it to me after finding it in our staff lounge earlier today, I lost it. I can’t have my employees questioning my ability to run the company or the clients who trust my employees with billions of their dollars questioning my ability to make sound financial decisions.

  Skimming the article in this magazine, the author states they are unable to speak with any of the women in the pictures. The women I’m seen with have already signed an NDA, so they would be in violation of it if they said one word to the media. They know I would have them in court within 24 hours at most. Of course the author speculates that this is because I’m hiding something and am just paying them off to keep quiet.

  I never take them to more than one event with me because I don’t want to give them mixed thoughts on what they are to me. The last thing I need is a woman thinking long term and commitment, when that’s the last thing I want or need right now. However, my plan appears to be back firing because now the reporters are questioning why I’m with different women at events. Apparently six different women over the course of three months is considered excessive as far as the paparazzi is concerned. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. When I don’t go to events with women, they question my sexuality… when I do go to events with women, I’m a playboy who can’t manage his own company. Why the fuck they can’t just focus on the financials of my company and leave me hell alone is beyond me.

  “Mr. Parker, everyone is in the conference room when you are ready,” Melody alerts me.

  I take the magazine into the conference room next to my office, where my public relations department is waiting along with my vice president Alex Clark. Alex has been in the news as well, but nowhere near the amount or with the scrutiny that I have been. Alex married his high school sweetheart who accompanies him to nearly every event or business dinner so they tend to leave him alone. They never question Alex’s ability to hold his position at Parker Financial Services, but suddenly because I’m not in a “committed relationship” I can’t operate a multibillion dollar company—a company which I started from the ground up with barely a penny to my name?

  “We will not be leaving this room until we have a clear plan of action as to how we are going to address this!” I slam the magazine down on the table, beyond pissed off and frustrated. The entire PR department jumps but of course, Alex who is no doubt used to my outbursts by now, doesn’t even flinch. “I’ve spent the last hour combing through this magazine and ten others just like it online that are now all calling me a playboy and questioning my ability to run this company. I followed your fucking advice and this is where it got me!!!”

  “Mr. Parker… our advice—“ Ms. Murphy begins.

  “Did we not have a meeting less than three months ago when these pieces of crap were ruining my reputation?” They all nod in response. “I can have Melody pull the recordings from that meeting, but I guarantee they will show that you advised me to bring women to public events. Did you not?”

  “Yes Mr. Parker, we did,” Ms. Murphy agrees.

  “It was less than three fucking months ago that the paparazzi were publishing headlines that I was gay and afraid to come out of the closet because it would ruin my business or that I had some secret sexual fetish that would ruin me and that was the reason I was hiding my sexual preferences. Your advice was to be seen with women at public events to eliminate the rumors that surround my sexual preferences. I did that! Fucking three months later we are back here!”

  “Mr. Parker, with all due respect, we did not expect you would bring a different woman to every event—“ Mr. Snyder says.

  “What the fuck do you want me to do? I can’t fucking sit here and let them question my ability to run my company and in turn handle billions of other people’s money, based upon whether or not I’m in a relationship with someone. Everyone around this table knows I am not in a committed relationship right now nor do I plan on being in one in anytime soon. I keep my private life private for a reason! I don’t fucking date because I don’t want the paparazzi to see me out with different women and then gossip about them as well. This magazine, right here, is the exact reason I don’t fucking date!”

  I’m fed up and don’t know what more to say as I sit in the chair at the head of the table and listen to my PR department scramble how to fix this. Two years ago this wouldn’t be an issue… two years ago I was pictured in magazines with the same woman at event after event. I was never called a playboy, my sexual preference was never debated and no one believed I had anything to hide. No one questioned my ability to run my company and handle billions of dollars. Just another fucking example of another thing she took from me… how the fuck I was blind for so long is still a mystery. I don’t believe in making the same mistake twice; hell will freeze over before I ever consider trusting someone the way I trusted her. I won’t give someone that power over me ever again.

  I shake my head, ridding myself of thought
s of her… I haven’t let myself go back there for a long time and once again I question my own sanity during that time for being as blind as I was. I pull myself back to the meeting, needing to focus on the latest issue at hand and not at past mistakes that I have made. The past will never repeat itself, so dwelling on it will not solve anything.

  The conversations around me are about how to fix the story that’s already out there. The suggestions: demand they recant the story, release a statement clarifying the situation, ignore the story. None of these suggestions tell me how to prevent this exact story from occurring after the next event requiring my attendance. Unfortunately, being such a big name in the financial industry and wanting to keep customers happy, I attend a lot of public events. Business is not always done in a board room… sometimes it’s done at charity events, golf outings, boxing events… Hell I even once had papers signed at the opera.

  I spend more time at public events than I ever wanted to but I realize public image is everything to some people, which is why having my name dragged through the mud is unacceptable. The people I shake hands with on the golf course need to know that the decisions I make are the right ones and that they should have confidence in me. Articles like this blow my integrity with people and will make them second guess their decisions.

  “Enough!” I interrupt the continued chaos. “Do whatever you need to do to make this article disappear but right now we need to focus on how I can prevent the next article from questioning my ability to manage PFS just because I have a different woman on my arm. If I show up without someone, they are back to assuming things about my sexual preferences which for some reason, they believe has some fucking impact on my ability to manage other people’s money.”

  “Parker,” Alex speaks up after being silent this entire meeting. “The solution is clear. Find a woman and bring her to all your public events.”

  “Fuck Alex! Did you not hear me when I said I am NOT in a relationship right now nor do I plan to be in one?!?! Where the fuck do you propose I find someone who wants to drop everything and go to events weekly, if not more often with me? Fuck, in the next month I have at least seven or eight events that I need to attend… I don’t even want to go to these things, so how the fuck can I find someone else to go?”