Because of His Heart (For His Pleasure, Book 27) (7 page)

H
er tiny studio
apartment was so small that she’d taken to calling it her cubby-hole. It was hardly big enough to fit a full size bed and television, bureau and bookcase. There was virtually no storage, and the bathroom was so tiny that she had to sit on the toilet with her legs crooked, because the piping beneath the sink stuck out and forced her to be seated almost diagonally.

But at least the apartment was hers and hers alone.

That was something.

She could’ve tried to live with a bunch of people in one of those wide open lofts, but she liked her privacy.

Chloe appreciated that fact as much as anything right now, as she got inside, locked and barred her apartment door, and then sat on the bed and opened the fancy black purse once again.

She felt like she’d come across a holy artifact, like something out of the DaVinci Code.

She leaned forward and put the alligator exterior to her nose and inhaled. It smelled both old and new, and there was a hint perhaps of the owners’ perfume. Chloe couldn’t be sure if it was her imagination or not.

Finally, she pulled out the wallet and unsnapped it, opening it and looking at the driver’s license.

The picture was of a beautiful young girl, which immediately surprised Chloe. She’d been expecting this to belong to a more established woman, but then again, this chick was probably born into money.

Still, the stranger pictured in the license had a quirky grin and her eyes in the picture looked perky and friendly. She was cute, beautiful even.

Her name was Grace Knowles and she was the same age as Chloe.

Chloe tucked the ID back into the wallet.

“Who are you, Grace Knowles? What do you do? Why’d you forget your hundred thousand dollar bag?” Chloe said aloud.

She did a quick Google search for the woman’s name.

Immediately, news items galore popped up, and Chloe realized that this girl was a serious player in the New York real estate scene.

She had only just gotten married to Liam Houston, and even ignorant Chloe had heard of the Houston family.

They were right up there with The Rockefellers and The Vanderbilts.

If you said the name Liam Houston, you were essentially talking about New York royalty, and they didn’t come any richer.

But as Chloe read some of the news items about Grace Knowles, she quickly realized that this girl hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. To the contrary, she’d been the classic outsider.

A normal girl who’d fallen in love with a prince.

Chloe felt a surge of absurd jealousy as she thought about the luck this girl had, the good fortune to have met the love of her life, and he just so happened to be wealthy beyond her wildest dreams.

Now that they were married, Grace was as powerful and rich as Liam Houston.

The two of them were a true power couple.

Chloe’s eyes were wide as saucers as she realized that this was the same woman who owned the bag sitting right now on the sunken mattress of Chloe’s crappy Brooklyn studio apartment.

“Shit,” Chloe muttered.

She had to return this thing immediately.

These people were not to be messed with. Quickly, she grabbed the cell phone from inside the Birkin and looked at it.

There was text message staring her in the face.

If you found this phone, please call me ASAP.

Gulp.

And the name attached to the message was
LIAM
.

Double gulp.

Already, Chloe could feel herself breaking out in a cold sweat.

She wasn’t ready to call Liam Houston, one of the richest men in the country, and tell him she had his wife’s belongings.

Instead, she used Grace Knowles’s cell phone to reply to his text. She said she had found the bag and phone and was happy to return it right away.

Seconds later, the reply from Liam.

Who is this?

She responded with her name, and now the sweat was flowing freely. Chloe felt like she’d just been running for two or three miles.

There was no forthcoming response after that.

Chloe wondered why he’d stopped responding. Maybe he just got busy. Perhaps he and his wife were discussing how to handle the situation best—whether to have her meet them somewhere, what to give her for a reward…

And shouldn’t she get a reward of some sort? Between the bag and the phone and all of the identification and credit cards, she’d saved them thousands of dollars by returning everything safe and sound to them.

Of course, she hadn’t returned anything just yet.

But she was going to, that was the point.

Still, time ticked by and Liam Houston wasn’t responding anymore. Chloe couldn’t understand what had happened. Why had he gone silent?

On the other hand, she didn’t want to engage with the man. He frightened her and she didn’t even know him—had never spoken to him. But something about the situation scared her.

These were powerful, wealthy people of immense privilege. She didn’t want to upset anyone.

So she went into her tiny kitchen—which was hardly big enough to turn around in—and grabbed tome tortilla chips and then guac from the fridge.

Dipping the chips in guac and sitting on the edge of her bed, she waited for more information to come through the cell phone.

And then, before she knew it, there was a loud, insistent honking from the street outside her apartment.

It went on and on, to the point where she went to the window and looked outside. There was a long stretch limousine parked out in front of her apartment building.

Her brow furrowed.

Could that be…but no. They never even asked her where she lived.

A moment later, the cell phone buzzed as if a text message had come through. Chloe walked over and picked it up.

It was from Liam and the message sent a chill up her spine.

Outside. Please bring the bag and all belongings.

That was it.

No thank you, nothing.

She felt an icy grip of fury clenching her spine and then her jaw. How dare he treat her like a nobody? He hadn’t even thanked her for keeping his wife’s things safe, nothing that showed an ounce of appreciation.

I should’ve kept it all. Asshole.

But it was too late to think such things, and in any case, Chloe didn’t want to be the kind of person who did bad things out of spite.

She would be the bigger person.

She packed up the Birkin and hefted it in her hand, feeling its weight as she quickly exited her apartment and took the steps by two, getting downstairs and walking out the front door of the building.

Once she came out, the door to the limousine opened and the driver emerged, a middle aged man with a cap, walking stiffly towards her, his hand outstretched. “The bag, please,” he said without so much as a smile.

She stopped a few feet away. “I should give it directly to Liam or Grace,” she said.

He shook his head once. “Afraid not.”

“Why not?” she asked, peering suspiciously at the tinted back windows of the limo.

Were they sitting inside, watching her, looking down their snooty noses at her? Judging her as not even worth a conversation, a moment of their time?

The driver stepped forward. “The bag, ma’am. Hand it over.”

His voice had taken on a distinctly less friendly tone. She sighed, knowing that to resist his instructions now would only make things worse.

She gave him the Birkin Bag and he nodded at her. “Have a good day,” he told her, and then he got into his limousine and drove off.

Chloe stood there, completely dumbstruck at how rude he and his employers had been in dealing with an honest citizen who’d saved them an awful lot of time and money by returning precious valuables to them.

But eventually she had to accept that it was over.

There would be no reward.

There would not even be a thank you, or a smile.

I
t was later
that evening when her cell phone rang and she saw the number was blocked.

Chloe swallowed drily.

Her heart was already pounding again, but she answered quickly. “Hello?” she said, her voice shaking.

“Is this Chloe Reed?” the chipper female voice said.

She swallowed. “Ummm…who is this?”

“This is Grace. Grace Knowles-Houston.”

Chloe couldn’t believe it. She sat down heavily on her rickety old recliner. “Oh. Hi. I’m Chloe, yes.”

Grace laughed, her voice easy and confident. “I just thought I’d call and tell you how much we appreciated you contacting us. I pretty much freaked the heck out when our plane was in the air and I suddenly realized I’d left my brand new purse back at JFK. It was a wedding gift on top of everything. Anyway, you saved me a big headache to say the least, Chloe. You’re a good Samaritan.”

Chloe found her voice. “When I saw that it was a Birkin—and especially that kind of Birkin—I knew I had to keep it and not just turn it into security.”

“Yeah. That was smart,” Grace said. “I’d love to repay you for your help. I would’ve come and met you myself, but Liam and I are actually on our honeymoon right now.”

“Oh God,” Chloe said, putting a hand to her mouth. She hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. “I’m so sorry you had to take time away from your honeymoon to call me.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Grace took a moment and then spoke again. “Now, as I was saying, I’d love to repay you. Is there anything I can do—anything you need?”

It was a loaded question.

Part of her wanted to say, no, and just play the good girl.

But another part of her knew that an opportunity like this would likely never come around again. And she didn’t want to blow it by being chicken.

“A job would be nice,” she said, laughing, knowing how crazy it sounded. And she knew that what she’d done didn’t deserve that sort of repayment.

“A job,” Grace echoed softly, her voice not amused or even annoyed. She seemed to be genuinely considering what Chloe had just said.

“The thing is, I had a bit of a problem at my current place of business,” Chloe explained. “It’s a long story, but I think I’m about to be fired.”

“Well, tell me what happened and I’ll see if I can’t help,” Grace replied.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Tell me what occurred, Chloe. I feel like I already know you. And you definitely know me, after seeing the mess inside my purse.” Her laughter tinkled through the cell phone.

Chloe relaxed just a little.

Screw it
, she thought, and decided to just tell the truth. So she told Grace Knowles, a wealthy powerful woman on her honeymoon, a woman that Chloe didn’t even really know at all—exactly what had happened that had led to her job being in peril.

When she was finished telling the story, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

There was a brief silence.

“Did I lose you?” Chloe said, checking to see if the line was dead.

“No,” Grace replied. “I was just so disgusted by how you were treated by your boss. That’s wrong. Very wrong.”

Chloe thought maybe Grace was going to say she would get a fancy lawyer to call the hotel and tell them they had to start treating their employees better or they’d be getting a major lawsuit on their hands.

Instead, she said something else entirely.

“I want you to wait for my text,” Grace Knowles said. “I need to pull a few strings, Chloe.”

“Oh, no, don’t do that. I’ve already taken way too much of your time,” Chloe said, feeling embarrassed now.

“I want to. It might take a few minutes. Just wait for my text. It was so nice talking to you, Chloe. I’m glad we met. It’s hard to make new friends.”

New friends?

As she stared at the now silent cell phone in her hands, Chloe realized that Grace Knowles had just called her a friend.

And she was going to text her.

But what?

What was happening here?

For the next couple of hours, Chloe could hardly think straight. She was by turns anxious, humiliated and then excited beyond belief.

She felt like maybe she had taken advantage of this strange woman’s kindness, but then again, Grace had asked if there was anything she could do.

But asking for a job?

Are you certifiable or what?

Chloe didn’t know what had come over her, she only knew that she could hardly sit still.

Finally, at about ten o’clock that night, her cell phone buzzed with a message from Grace Knowles.

Possible job opportunity—no guarantees. But u will have an interview with Red Jameson. He is a great guy and I told him all about you. Just be yourself and bring a copy of your resume!!! Let me know how it goes, Chloe. Talk soon. XOXO

And then the address.

Chloe knew that general vicinity of Manhattan.

It was prime real estate.

Holy shit,
she thought.

Triple gulp.

T
he office was
as intimidating as she’d feared it might be, and everyone who worked in the building looked exactly like the best and brightest.

People were people, right? she told herself, trying to quell her rising nerves.

But not these people, Chloe decided.

Chloe took a seat in one of the plush black leather chairs in the waiting room, after telling the gorgeous receptionist that she had an interview with Red Jameson.

Chloe had spent half her sleepless night reading about Red Jameson and his empire, and then she’d shaved every square inch of her body that might be visible, and waxed, and bathed and primped and primed herself for this meeting.

She was wearing the best outfit she could find, and still she felt completely out of her league here.

A big part of her wanted to flee, but another part said that she had nothing to lose at this point but her dignity.

And there wasn’t much of that left, either.

Once she settled into her chair, her eyes caught sight of a Sports Illustrated copy sitting on a nearby table with a few other magazines.