Beauty and the Boss Page 6
“Call her,” Ellis said as she flagged down a porter.
The tension in the large SUV rose to an awkward high by
the time they reached the French Quarter, and Charlotte
was afraid Ellis would end up strangling Rueben. She
wanted to take in the sights, but she was too busy trying to
decipher what the hell was going on.
“Can I help with anything?” She spoke to Ellis since
Rueben was on the phone again. “What’s wrong?”
“Ruby forgot his book.” Ellis took a deep breath and
seemed to force herself to smile. “Sorry about my mood, but
we really don’t have that much time to finish our line.
Having the only other copy of the bible out of my sight
freaks me out, especially since it has all the changes I’ve
made in it. After the experience I had last night, this isn’t
the time to get sloppy.”
“Wow,” Sawyer said when the car stopped so a gate
could open. The house certainly deserved a wow.
“I love this place.” Ellis got out and entered a code into
the keypad located on the large stone wall that encircled
the property.
The courtyard was completely paved with ancient-
appearing bricks, the only greenery coming from the
multitude of potted plants dispersed through the area.
Charlotte glanced around, but it was hard to take her eyes
off the large Spanish-style house that seemed to span the
entire block. The colors were muted, drawing her attention
to the bright-red front door. It reminded her of their first
conversation about color. Maybe red really was Ellis’s
favorite hue.
“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte said as she took Sawyer’s hand.
“I’ll be happy to give you a tour in a little while, but I
have to make a few calls first.” The door opened and an
older man came out, his appearance the only thing that had
made Ellis smile since they’d landed. “Hey there.” Ellis
opened her arms, and the hug she gave him seemed
heartfelt. “How are you, Uncle Malcom?”
“Lonely roaming around here alone, but not anymore.”
Whoever he was, Charlotte could tell he really cared
about Ellis, and the feeling was mutual. “Wait, Sawyer,” she
said as Sawyer tried to break free.
“Let me introduce you.” Ellis let the man go but kept her
arm around his shoulders. “Charlotte and Sawyer, this is my
Uncle Malcom. He’ll show you out back to where you’re
staying.” The short introduction was all they got before Ellis
disappeared.
“She’s usually not that obnoxious,” Malcom said, shaking
his head. “God knows I love her, but sometimes she acts like
she was raised by wolves.”
“You’d better not let Amis hear you say that. She’ll tear
your throat out with her fangs,” Rueben said as he took his
turn hugging Malcom.
“My sister only scares me when she’s standing right next
to me.”
Charlotte laughed and stuck her hand out, only to be
pulled into a hug as tight as the one he’d given Ellis. “It’s
nice to meet you, sir.”
“Please, call me Malcom, and welcome.” Malcom held
both her and Sawyer’s hand as they walked inside. Another
younger guy and woman passed them smiling, and
Charlotte guessed they were the staff.
Charlotte stopped right inside and just stared at the
paintings. The massive pieces that lined the grand
staircases were stunning. Every one of them featured
faceless women, since the subject of the art was actually
the clothes. She recognized every single piece going up
those stairs, but they appeared different painted in oil.
“She did these?” Sawyer asked, finally wrangling free of
her. “I’m not good at faces either.”
Malcom laughed, which made Charlotte relax her cringe a
bit. “I don’t think that’s why she did it like that, sweetheart.”
“This is Ellis’s trophy wall,” Malcom said, the pride in his
tone hard to miss. “The clothes were the winners, and
everything else was never important enough to keep her
interest.”
“Is that a warning, Malcom?” The clothes were evidence
of Ellis’s genius, but sometimes whatever higher power
bestowed such talent demanded something in return. Ellis’s
obvious heartlessness for anything else seemed to be the
price in this case. Charlotte needed to remember that fact
and concentrate on getting her start, yet keeping her
distance.
“What an interesting thing to say. Everyone seems to
know that Ellis has a reputation—that’s not something I’m
going to waste my breath defending. She is, though, my
family, so I’ll tell you that no reporter or rumormonger ever
concentrates on the positive. It’s not a warning at all. The
next few months will go better if you open your mind and
leave your preconceived notions at the curb outside.”
“We’re staying here?”
“Ellis figures you and Sawyer will want some space that’s
your own, so you’ll be right out back.” He led the way to the
other side of the good-sized pool. “We’re lucky in that it’s
one of the only houses in the quarter with a pool and more
than one building on the grounds.”
The building close to the pool surprisingly wasn’t the pool
house. It had a big common area and a nice kitchen, and
according to Malcom, it also had two bedrooms. “What is
this place?” she asked, dropping her purse on the brown
leather sofa.
“A long time ago, when the house was built, it was the
caretaker’s shack. It’s been upgraded through the years to
become a guest cottage. Everything you need is here, but
you have an open invitation to eat at the house with us. It’s
not mandatory, though, so do what’s comfortable for you
and Sawyer.”
“It’s beautiful, thank you. Will we start work tomorrow?”
“I’m sure Ellis will be down here once her calls are done,
so why don’t you unpack and wander back in an hour for
lunch. Sawyer, your room is the one on the right.”
“Mom, look,” Sawyer said, making Malcom smile before
he waved and left.
The corner of the room was filled with blank canvases, an
easel, and all the supplies Sawyer would need to make art.
Now Charlotte understood Ellis’s allure. She certainly had
the ability to zero in on what made people happy and had
the resources to deliver it. She also had the looks and the
kind of personality that made you want to be close to her—
the kind of allure that made you want to be the center of
Ellis’s attention even if only for a brief second.
“I see,” Charlotte said, and the display of generosity
made her think of Kyle. What a difference from one human
being to another when it came to Ellis and Kyle. Ellis realized
not only that Sawyer was alive but had figured out what
made the kid tick after spending less than an hour with her,
tota
l. The only downside would be that, in a couple of
months, Ellis probably wouldn’t remember who they were.
“I see,” she said, more softly, trying to think of a way to
let Sawyer down easy when that came to pass.
* * *
“And how do I know this is legit?” Benson Norwood asked
as he eyed Jennifer and the book she was holding. As a
reporter for the monthly Styles and Trends, he was familiar
with both Jennifer and the pet she’d dragged along, Dalton.
If Jennifer’s claim was right, he’d talk his boss into
running a special issue as payback for the lawsuit Ellis had
slammed him with a couple of years prior. The exposé he’d
written about Ellis’s sexual exploits for once wasn’t true,
and she’d had plenty of ways to prove every word was
fiction. It was a miracle he’d been able to keep his job, but
he owed that to Dalton. When the judgment that would’ve
shut the magazine’s doors came down, Dalton had talked
Ellis into a token settlement. He knew he’d have to return
the favor one day, and this was the price, he guessed.
“Since when do you ask if something’s legit?” Dalton
turned from staring out into the alley, and Benson figured
the man had been hitting the bottle pretty hard, judging by
his haggard appearance and swollen features. “You owe
me.”
“Hey, I appreciate what you did, but we both now know
the consequences of printing something that’s not true.”
The urge to open the book was making his hands itch, but
he had to cover his ass first. “I hear even Vogue is writing
about you two getting fired yesterday. Any comment on
that? If it’s true, then we both know you didn’t get that as a
parting gift from Ellis.”
“You little son of a bitch.” Dalton crossed the room
quicker than Benson thought possible, and he was even
more shocked when he couldn’t break Dalton’s hold on his
lapels. “You think you get to walk away for free after I saved
your ass?”
“Owing someone something is one thing, Dalton, but
getting sued for theft of intellectual property is some other
colored donkey altogether. Hell, the court wouldn’t even buy
a confidential informant the last time around. I print this,
and it’ll be a fucking disaster—a fucking disaster that I could
end up doing jail time for.” He couldn’t get Dalton off him,
so he stood up in case he had to defend himself.
“You’re going to print this or I hand these over to the
cops and then to every rag like yours that’s interested.”
Jennifer dropped a large envelope on his desk with no
explanation—he didn’t really need one, and it was like
Dalton could read his mind. “She was only fourteen, Benson,
and it was just two years ago. Still enough time for the cops
to be interested in your little hobbies.”
“You were there, you bastard, and not as a bystander,”
he said to Dalton.
“I’m not in the picture though. You can look if you don’t
believe me.” Dalton shoved him toward the envelope.
“I believe you, since I figured you’d fuck me over
eventually.” He tossed the envelope into the trash since
Dalton and Jennifer weren’t about to hand over the file the
pictures were stored in. “So how does printing these help
you?”
“You let me worry about that, but they’ve got to hit within
the week. It won’t do me any good if you sit on them
forever.”
“I’ll print them, but I can’t say when. If you want fast, I
hope you’ve got glossy prints of my boss doing something
he doesn’t want published.”
“We don’t need that, honey.” Jennifer laughed and
dropped another big envelope on Benson’s desk. “We’ve got
glossies of you doing something colossally stupid that you
don’t want printed.”
Benson’s glare only made her laugh harder as she picked
up her box and waved over her shoulder on the way out.
The magazine’s offices weren’t in the best neighborhood, so
Dalton was glad they had a car with a driver running and
waiting. Wherever they were going, though, wouldn’t keep
them safe from Ellis’s wrath—that he was sure of.
In all of Jennifer’s calculations and scheming, that was
the only thing she hadn’t factored in. Ellis Renois wasn’t
some trust-fund spoiled brat doing this out of boredom. No,
Ellis was street-smart and vicious when she needed to be.
“Now what?” His phone rang again and he silenced it, but
really wanted to throw the damn thing out the window.
Since the night before, his wife had called him every ten
minutes, it seemed.
“Now we go home to really get the rumor mill going, and
then we renegotiate new contracts.”
Despite his urge to run away, damn if Jennifer still didn’t
have an effect on him as her hand slid up his thigh. “You
think Ellis is seriously going to offer us another job?”
“Lover, in about a week no one will remember who Ellis
is. No, we’re going somewhere that’ll appreciate us. It’s time
to hook up with someone who’ll see how valuable we can
be, and we start over.” She squeezed him so hard he
thought of begging her to go down on him, but he didn’t
want to give the driver a show. “It’s time for you to start
fresh all the way around.”
“That’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“It’s exactly that easy, if you want it enough.”
* * *
“It’s not there,” Amis said calmly.
The second time she said it, Ellis closed her eyes and
rested her head on the edge of her desk. The second time
was a necessary confirmation since the first time Amis had
said it, she’d thought she misunderstood. Every year, for
security reasons, she made two copies of the upcoming line.
She kept one and Rueben the other, and she’d thought to
question Rueben about it only after they’d landed. During
the trip to the house he’d simply thought he’d forgotten it.
“It can’t be gone. Did you go through his desk?”
“Chéri, aside from a large number of ketchup packets,
there’s nothing else in Rueben’s desk—nothing. The bible is
gone.”
“That bitch had to have taken it, and if she did, we’re
totally screwed.”
“Before we panic, let’s make sure that’s the case. Don’t
jump off the ledge just yet.”
At first she wanted to fly back to New York and beat the
crap out of Dalton and Jennifer for sheer satisfaction. She
was stupid to think this situation would end so easily and
neatly by simply firing them. “Keep looking and keep me
posted. If I’m right, working to finish this show is a complete
waste of time.”
“Did Rueben’s book have all the latest changes?”
“For once they were both up to date.” She raised her
head when she heard the door open but kept her eyes
closed. “Whoever has it can share our entire
line for the
upcoming year with the world.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, so let me organize
my search party.”
“It’s gone?” Rueben asked, his expression a perfect
example of horror. “Ellis, you have to believe that I locked it
up. I would’ve never just left it out.”
“I’m not blaming you, and there’s only one viable
explanation for all this.” She relaxed her expression when
Rueben’s eyes grew glassy, and she would’ve ignored the
phone to comfort him, but that wasn’t an option. Sigrid
Nymand, the former Swedish model, was still beautiful, but
now she was the grand dame of Vogue. Her influence was
legendary, but her friendship was one of Ellis’s most prized
assets.
“Sigrid, how are you?”
“Right now I’m guessing I’m doing a hell of a lot better
than you, darling.” Sigrid’s accent was one Ellis could listen
to all day, but her comment was the first nail in her coffin.
“Do you have time to talk?”
“For you, always. You know that.” A long conversation
initiated by Sigrid and not one of her minions meant the
nails would keep coming until Ellis was buried.
“What the hell happened last night?”
Ellis couldn’t lie or try to evade the facts—Sigrid wasn’t
asking to fill in the gaps. She was calling to confirm all the
facts. “Are you asking out of curiosity, or in a more official
capacity?”
“Ellis, drop the stoic act and don’t bullshit me. I’m calling
because one of my people got an anonymous call from
someone who claims you did plenty of naughty things.”
Sigrid laughed, and Ellis put her head down again. “I wish I
were a little younger so you’d be interested in doing
naughty things to me, so that I don’t give a damn about.”
Sigrid had been married to the same man for close to
thirty-five years, but Ellis always enjoyed her flirtatious
personality. “Don’t count yourself out of that game, Sigrid.
I’m one of the teenage boys at heart, with your swimsuit
picture on my wall. But it’s been a while since I’ve been
either naughty or nice to anyone.” She told Sigrid what had
happened and heard the sigh when she was done.
“The caller also said they had your bible. Please tell me
that part of all this nonsense isn’t true.”
“My mother’s looking, but I think it’s gone. Considering