On His Terms (The Arrangement Series Book 1) Read online

  “Hire someone,” he answers simply.

  “Alex,” I can’t help but fucking laugh at him because I don’t know what else to do. “Yes, that’s the perfect solution. I’ll drive around downtown and find a prostitute, offer her cash to accompany me for the night and then every night I have an event, I’ll pick her up at the same street corner.”

  “Well… it solves two issues as far as I can see,” his face is red from laughing so hard at me. “The press will stop calling you a playboy because you’ll only be seen with one woman. And, they will stop wondering what it is you do with all your money.”

  “Right, because then they will have pictures of me paying a prostitute for her services.”

  “Well, you asked for ideas.”

  If anyone else at the table suggests I hire a hooker I would have their ass fired on the spot, but Alex is different… he has always been able to get away with things that I don’t let anyone else get away with. Alex has been my vice president for years now but beyond that, we went to college together and have been best friends ever since. He was one of the very first employees I hired when PFS began expanding beyond what I could handle by myself. Alex works almost as many hours as I do and has put it many late nights working side by side with me. I spend more hours with him than I do anyone in my life… well maybe except Carter since he is with me constantly and even has his own living quarters in my penthouse.

  He is also the longest standing employee I have at PFS; working for me is not easy and finding good employees is not easy. I have very high expectations from my staff and believe that I compensate them accordingly. I offer above average salaries for all, excellent benefits and significant paid time off for all employees plus the management team receives annual bonuses based upon predetermined goals. Alex has earned a bonus every year that he has been with PFS because, yeah, he is that good. My management team is very strong now but this was not always the case, especially in the early days. It took a long time to find the right group of people who worked well together and more importantly worked well with me.

  Melody, my personal assistant, has been with the company for four years now, reporting directly to me for the last year. Prior to her I can’t even remember the number of personal assistants I went through on a yearly and sometimes monthly basis. Alex still jokes with me how I scared away one assistant so quickly she left to get breakfast for a meeting only to drop the muffins off with Carter before telling him that she quit effective immediately.

  Melody coming on board has been a godsend, she doesn’t take things personally when I am short with her and she knows exactly how I like things. She has a way of making me more productive by having everything ready for me before I even know I need it.

  Asher the head of IT makes up the remainder of what I consider the key members of my management team at PFS. Without him, investments could have gone differently and bad financial decisions could have been made because his staff have ways of finding things out about people and companies that no one else can find out.

  “Short of hiring a prostitute, what ideas do we have for moving forward?” I bring the discussion back to the topic at hand.

  “Sir, we think it would be in your best interest to find a woman who can accompany you to the majority of these events and when she is not available, to go alone or with a family member,” Mr. Snyder recommends.

  “So we’re back where we started,” I sigh. “I go with family members or alone to events and there are whispers, I go with women and there are whispers. You need to come up with a better solution because I refuse to have people questioning my management ability based upon who I do or don’t bring to events. Fucking find me another solution!”

  With that I storm out of the room and leave the PR team to discuss other options, although I know the reality is there really aren’t any other options. I wish there was a way to get the paparazzi to just leave me alone but short of buying out every media outlet in the country, I don’t see that option being realistic.

  At one point I had my legal team demand a gossip site remove a story about me and issue a statement that they reported false information. The day after it was issued, another media outlet published a different story about me, this time speculating on why I make charitable donations to certain organizations and not to others. In that moment I realized no matter what I did, there would always be stories out there about me. I stopped wasting my resources having my legal team send requests for companies to recant their stories.

  “Mr. Parker?” Melody knocks on my door.

  “Come in, Melody.”

  “I just wanted to remind you that I am off tomorrow—“

  “Yes, it’s on my calendar.”

  “You have an early morning meeting where we usually provide breakfast so I have already placed an order with a local bakery. However someone will need to pick the order up—“

  “Can’t they just deliver?”

  “This bakery does not offer a delivery service, Mr. Parker.”

  “Why the fuck do we do business with them if they don’t deliver? Do you know how much time we could save if you didn’t need to run out before meetings to pick up food? Surely there are other bakeries in this city that offer delivery?”

  “Yes, there are numerous bakeries within a few blocks of the office. However you know those muffins that you love?” I nod. “They are from that bakery. And the freshly made donuts that are a hit at each of your meetings? Also from that bakery. Your meeting tomorrow morning is with Connors and Associates and according to Mr. Connor’s PA, he has a soft spot for this bakery’s banana nut muffins which, of course, I ordered for tomorrow morning. Now if you don’t have anyone who can pick up the order, I can cancel it and find a bakery that will deliver—“

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll get Carter to stop by on our way in,” I concede once again realizing why it is I value Melody so much.

  “Will you need anything else before I leave?”

  “No, enjoy your day off Melody.”

  After a couple more hours of work, I’m sitting in the back of the Audi SUV that Carter is driving back to The Accord. Without asking, Carter again takes the long way, slowing just past the little coffee shop where only a couple of weeks ago, we splashed a beautiful young woman who has haunted my thoughts ever since. I don’t know what it was but there was something about her that captured my eye. Her long brown hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, her makeup was very light and minimal allowing her natural beauty to show through. Her outfit was simple but dressy: a pair of perfectly fit tan dress pants was complimented by a form fitting black button up blouse.

  Carter and I both repeatedly apologized but she continued to say it wasn’t a big deal and shrugged the entire situation off. Had that happened to me, I guarantee I would have been cursing up a storm at everyone and anyone who would listen, demanding someone pay for the damage to my clothing. Knowing that we likely completely ruined her pants, seeing that they were now covered in water and dirt, I offered to take her somewhere to buy her a new outfit. Much to my surprise, she refused my offer, saying she was on her dinner break so she didn’t have much time. What surprised me more though was when I gave her money to pay for the new outfit and she tried refusing it.

  I can’t remember ever having women try to refuse money that I gave them. Normally that’s all they want me for. That’s what they expect from me: they expect me to give them money and buy them things. This woman was completely different in that she tried to give the money back to me! No matter what I said, she insisted paying for new clothes wasn’t necessary but Carter and I both knew it was our fault that she would have to buy something new. Carter has worked for me long enough that verbal communication is not always needed; a quick glance between us confirmed that we were both thinking the same thing. As I pushed her hand with the money away, Carter and I both turned around to head back to the car, leaving her with the money in hand.

  Ever since that evening, I have found that woman entering my thoug
hts at random times. I don’t know what it is about her but something is making her stick in my head. A couple of days after we spoke to her, I asked Carter to drive past the area on the way home. He was of course confused because this area was in the opposite direction but when I asked him to slow down as we approached the coffee shop, I think he figured out why I asked him to go this way.

  Thus, every night on our way home, we go pass the coffee shop. We haven’t seen the woman from that incident on any of our drives past. I know the chances are slim of seeing her again but I still don’t ask Carter to return to his usual route. I’m not sure what I would do if we saw her tonight, or any other time for that matter. I have no desire to start a relationship and I doubt she would be interested in what I have to offer.

  If I could find a way to just fuck her, it would probably get her out of my head but I certainly couldn’t walk up to her on the street, introduce myself and then ask her to come back to my place for a quick fuck could I? Something tells me that even if I could get away with that, she would never agree to it. One look at her and I could tell she isn’t the type to have a one night stand with someone. She’s the type who wants it all: the husband, the house, the white picket fence with 2.3 kids running around in the backyard.

  Chapter 4

  Kenzie

  Beep Beep Beep Beep

  I blindly slap my alarm clock, groaning when I see that time says it’s four am. My muscles whine as I push myself into a sitting position and demand at least a few more hours of sleep. I worked more than twelve hours yesterday and despite that I couldn’t fall asleep until close to midnight, thanks to my incredibly loud neighbors who thought it would be a good night to have a party. I think the only reason I finally fell passed out was from pure exhaustion because the noise level certainly didn’t decrease.

  Thankfully today I am only working at the bakery so by early afternoon I should be back at home where I can hopefully take a nap. I swear if the department store calls me this afternoon I may be tempted to ignore the call because I don’t think I could make it through another twelve hour day even if I wanted to. Although the tip Bridget left me after calling me in early the last time she needed something made the long day very worth it. Perhaps if she calls I will go in after all, well maybe if I can at least get a small nap in.

  I take a fast shower even though my body begs me to stay in longer and let the hot water ease some of my sore muscles. As much as I would love to, the building has a very limited supply of hot water and I know from experience if I spend more than eight minutes the water will turn ice cold without warning. After learning that the hard way, I now set a timer for seven minutes so there’s no chance of ice water coming out of the shower head before I’m finished. There’s nothing worse than having that happen while you still have a head full of shampoo. Quickly dressing in a pair of jeans and my bakery shirt, I make myself a bowl of hot oatmeal for breakfast. I’m not a big breakfast person, but I know I need to put something in my stomach before I start my shift. There are days when it can be so busy that I don’t get a break until my shift is over and by then I would be starving if I didn’t eat before I started working. By the time I finish eating and my coffee is done brewing, it’s nearly four thirty, meaning it’s time to leave.

  A subway, bus ride and thirty minutes later, I’m walking the last couple of blocks to the bakery and arrive one minute before my shift is due to start. I work the same shift each day so my schedule works out perfectly… even if I despise having to wake up at four in the morning.

  “Good Morning Ginny,” I greet the owner as I walk in.

  “Morning Kenzie, how are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks. What can I get started on?”

  “Actually, I need to talk to you, if you have a moment?” I nod. “Please come to my office.”

  I follow Ginny back to her office… in the eighteen months I’ve been working here I haven’t been in her office, except for the day she interviewed me. I have butterflies in my stomach for some reason. I know the outcome of this meeting is not going to be a good one… I just know it. I fear what Ginny is going to talk to me about but there is no avoiding it.

  “Kenzie… there’s no easy way for me to say this,” Ginny takes a deep breath and briefly pauses. My heart is beating so loudly I’m almost certain she can hear it. “I’ve decided I’m going to retire and my daughter has invited me to come live with her in Texas.”

  “I’m so happy for you Ginny! I know how much you’ve missed your daughter since she moved.”

  “I have and she called me last night to let me know she is expecting, so by moving in with her, I will be able to see my grandbaby whenever I want. I can’t imagine living in New York and having her and the baby so far away.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “I’m going to sell this place and while I’m going to tell the new owners how wonderful each of my staff members are, I can’t guarantee they are going to keep you on once the ink dries.”

  “I appreciate you putting in a good word for me.”

  “Kenzie, I wish I could do more to protect your job—“

  “I understand. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  “I can’t help but worry about you, you know that. If the people who end up buying this place are morons and end up letting you go I will give you a glowing recommendation to wherever you want to go next. I’ll do anything I can to help you… you’ve come so far—“

  “Thank you but I promise, I will be okay.”

  She squeezes my hand across the desk and I can see the concern in her eyes. Along with a few other entry level, minimum wage paying jobs, my interview with her was set up by my case worker on my second day in New York. Ginny and I clicked almost instantly; she never asked me any questions about my past or why I moved here. She knew where I was living at the time of my interview and knew who scheduled me for the interview but she never brought it up. She instantly became like a mother figure to me—she was the type of mother I always wish I had. She makes sure I have enough hours scheduled each week and always offers any extra shifts to me instead of one of the girls who work the register. She’s the type of person who cares about everyone and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

  “I’ll keep you updated on the sale of this place, but right now my attorney is reviewing offers so we are probably still a couple of months away from one being accepted and the paperwork completed.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate you telling me about this.”

  “Please don’t tell the other girls. I’m not ready for everyone to know just yet. I worry some of the others might jump ship and leave just you and me working all these hours.”

  “I won’t say anything.”

  “We have a catering order I need you to work on this morning; here’s the order information. Someone will be by around 7:30 to pick it up.”

  “No problem, I’ll make sure it’s ready.”

  I try not to focus on what Ginny told me; there’s not much I can but wait and see where things fall when the bakery eventually sells. I’m not going to start looking for another job because I would much rather stay here. Even though Ginny wouldn’t run this place anymore, it’s familiar to me. I know all the recipes by memory, the register is easy to use and I really like the area. We are surrounded by large office buildings in a very busy section of the city which means everyone is always on the go. There are several stores within walking distance that I can hit if I need something before catching my bus. Even though it wasn’t a tough decision, I very quickly decide to stay on with Ginny and see what happens. If the new owners decide to replace all the staff, then I will find another job. I’m pretty certain that the experience I have gained here will help me get a job at another bakery. There are several chain ones in the area and although I love the individual ownership of this place, if I have no choice I will move on.

  “Kenzie!” Ginny comes around the counter a couple of hours later.

  “Someone is here to pick up the PFS caterin
g order—“

  “UGH they’re early,” I sigh, glancing at my watch. “Give me a few minutes, the banana nut muffins are just about ready to come out of the oven.”

  “No problem, just bring it up front when you’re done.”

  At least half of Ginny’s business is probably catering for the local businesses in the area. Although the chain places offer delivery to the offices, most of the customers are loyal to Ginny because they love certain items we make. Whether it’s the handmade donuts, the warm croissants, the personalized breads or the flavorful muffins, it seems everyone has their favorite that keeps them coming back. PFS, for example, probably places an order with us at least two to three times a week. I can put money on it that, because while certain parts of the order will change, there will always be an apple cinnamon muffin in the order. Clearly, whoever does the ordering for them, loves that type of muffin; I assume the order changes either based on meetings they are having or who in the office want to order from us.

  “Order for PFS?” I call as I walk into the front of the store.

  “Over here,” a deep voice calls me.

  I stop in my tracks when I turn around and recognize the man who answered me—it is no other than the man who drove into the puddle that drenched me a few weeks ago when I was on my dinner break from the department store.

  “Ms… it’s nice to see you again,” he greets me.

  “And you,” I place the box down on the counter. “I wanted to thank you and the man you were with again for replacing my clothes that day. It was too much—“

  “I’m sure whatever you were given was not just meant to replace your clothes but also for the inconvenience of having to spend the remainder of your break shopping instead of taking time for yourself.”