The Mogul (2 page)

“Are you here for me?” she asked.

The bald driver looked more like a boxer than anything else. He inclined his head to the rear of the car. “Mr. Grant is waiting for you. Just one moment and I’ll open your door.”

But Candace was already panicked over keeping Markus waiting. So instead of waiting for the driver, she flung the rear car door open and jumped in.

The driver had just gotten out of the car. He stood there for a second, perhaps uncertain as to what he should do. Then he seemed to give up being polite and got back into the vehicle. Candace tried not to feel guilty for cheating him out of doing his duty.

Markus Grant sat in the leather seat next to her in a stunning Armani suit. His dark blond hair was cut short and neatly groomed. There was a hint of gray around his temples that gave him a more sophisticated look. His eyes were dark brown with the slightest spark of evil cunning in them. He was clean-shaven with a chiseled jaw and straight, noble nose. The few celebrity pictures she’d seen of him over the years didn’t do him justice.

He watched her breathing hard from rushing out the door so fast. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, fine, I was just in a hurry.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re overqualified for this job.”

“Um . . . I don’t think so.”

“Don’t toy with me. You know you are.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Why do you want it?”

She thought about lying, but he’d probably see right through that. So she decided to tell the truth, even though it might lose her the job. “I really need to get back to work for a variety of reasons.”

“I’m not easy to work for.”

“Neither was my other boss.”

“I might make unreasonable demands on you.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me.”

“Do you have a husband or boyfriend?”

There was that damned question again. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

“I’m asking because we’ll be spending a lot of time together over the next two months. Boyfriends and husbands get jealous of other men.”

Candace sighed. “There is no one in my life right now that might get jealous.”

A tiny smile played on his sexy full lips. “Are you offended by bad language?”

“Not unless it’s directed at me. I don’t put up with anyone calling me names.”

“There won’t be anything like that.”

Candace grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it down closer to her knees. “Good.”

“I thought we’d go to lunch and get to know each other.”

“Are you offering me the job?”

His grin turned into a stunning smile. “Let’s just say you’re a strong contender.”

“Well then,” she said, giving him her brightest smile, “let’s go eat.”

Chapter Three

Mark hated playing mind games, but unfortunately, he often did. It was a byproduct of living in the limelight all the time. After a while, you found there were very few people you could
truly
trust. So he did what every other famous person did when he met someone new. He tested them until he felt comfortable they weren’t going to sell his private life to the tabloids or use him to get to other famous people.

Candace probably wasn’t aware of it, but lunch wasn’t just an extended interview. It was a test to see if he could trust her. They arrived at his favorite café sometime between the lunch and dinner crowd. The staff seated him in a private terrace in the back, where he could talk to Candace and not be interrupted by autograph seekers or fame whores.

He pulled her chair out to be chivalrous, and that relaxed her. She smiled at him and sat down. Her smile was stunning and seemed to him to light up the room. “Thank you,” she said.

He sat across from her, and the waiter appeared immediately. “What can I get you to drink, Mr. Grant?”

“I’ll have a red wine.”

“And for the lady?”

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” Candace said.

Mark held up a hand to keep the waiter from leaving and leaned across the table. “I hate to drink alone.”

She glanced nervously from Mark to the waiter. Her intelligent brown eyes looked unsure. “Um . . . I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s not really appropriate for me to drink on a job interview.”

“It’s okay if I want you to.”

She hesitated. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Neither am I. How about a glass of wine?”

“Yes, okay.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, triumphant. “Don’t ever call me Markus. I want you to call me Mark. Only my grandmother and people who don’t know me call me Markus.”

She nodded. “Okay, Mark.”

“Can I call you Candy?”

Candace blinked a few times as though he’d come close to hitting her. “Only a few old friends call me that. Most people just call me Candace.”

“So is that a yes or a no?”

“Sure, Candy’s fine.”

The waiter brought their drinks and set down two glasses in front of each of them. “You’re in luck. It’s happy hour,” he said with a perfect smile.

Mark took a generous gulp of his wine, polishing off half a glass. “So tell me about being a paralegal.”

Candace sipped her drink daintily. Her lips touched the edge, and he could tell she hadn’t taken in much at all. But her caution had a strange effect on him. She was wary and clever, studying him like he was a kidnapper who’d just taken her hostage. She was different from most of the people he met throughout his day. He liked her. She was exciting in ways he couldn’t describe.

She unwrapped the silverware from her napkin and carefully arranged it around her empty plate. “Nothing much to tell. I did a lot of grunt work for the attorney, followed up on cases, dug up information, typed legal documents, that kind of stuff.”

“Why not go back to being a paralegal?”

“Well, um . . . it’s been challenging because my old boss was accused of some wrongdoing.”

“Were you involved?”

“Me? Oh no. His crimes had to do with bribing a public official. I wasn’t part of that aspect of his life.”

The waiter returned with bread and butter, and they ordered. He the rib eye steak and she half a turkey sandwich and soup. He watched Candy pick up the butter knife with long, graceful fingers and carve off a slab of butter. She smeared it over her bread and took a small bite.

“Who’s your favorite actor or actress?”

She thought about that for a moment. “I don’t really have any favorites. I haven’t been to the movies in quite some time.”

He ran his index finger along his bottom lip. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Most of it is just remakes of old movies I saw years ago.” Suddenly she looked up, and there was concern in her eyes. “I hope that doesn’t offend you, being a movie producer.”

“What would you do if it did?”

Her gaze hardened. “I’d just have to apologize and hope you didn’t hold my comment against me.”

The waiter brought their food and took one of Mark’s empty wineglasses. Candy still had barely touched hers.

He wolfed down a few bites. “What do you think so far?”

“About what?”

“About me.”

“I don’t know you well enough to have an opinion one way or the other.”

Mark leaned back and laughed. She was a guarded one, that was for sure. He really liked her. He just hoped he didn’t like her too much. “I’m offering you the job, Candy. Do you want it?”

“What will my pay be?”

“Five thousand per week. But that means you’ll be working all kinds of hours and doing all kinds of things.”

“I won’t do anything sexual or illegal.”

“I’m not going to do that to you, Candy.”

“I really mean that. I’m not a prostitute or a drug mule. I don’t give a shit about the money if there’s crooked stuff involved. I don’t want to end up in jail.”

“Nothing like that, I promise. Do you want the job?”

“What exactly will I be doing?”

“Working with celebrities, making them happy, helping me do my job in any way you can. The job is about being smart, helpful, and proactive.”

She played with her wineglass, then smiled. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

* * * *

Candace felt weird but really excited. She’d never had a man buy her clothes before. So when Mark insisted on getting her some clothes for a party they had to attend together tonight, she was more than a little reluctant.

As if things weren’t strange enough, he seemed to know everyone in Bloomingdale’s. Staff rushed at them from every corner of the store to welcome them. They were ushered right to the women’s section, where a saleswoman with a thick Russian accent started sizing her up.

The pushy Russian woman, who wore a name tag that said Olga, shoved some fancy dresses at her and gestured to the dressing rooms. Mark looked very amused as he settled into a plush chair near the mirrors.

Candace caught a glance at one of the price tags and almost passed out. She came over, ignoring Helga’s impatient sigh. “Mark, did you look at the prices on these gowns?”

He smiled at her, and there was everything sexual in it. Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I don’t need to look at the prices, Candy. You just go try them on.”

Candace retreated to the dressing room. There she tried on the first dress, which also happened to be the cheapest. She hated the thought of someone spending thousands of dollars on a dress she might wear only once. She came out so Mark and Helga could see. His brown eyes looked hazel in the bright lights, and he scrutinized her with the intensity of a wolf. He leaned forward in his chair, making the leather squeak.

“Go to the mirrors,” he said in a smoky voice.

Candace walked up to the three mirrors. The gown was light silver with shiny sequins along the breasts and hips. She looked like a fairy princess in it.

Mark moved up behind her. He was quite a bit taller and looked devilishly handsome in that dark suit. He moved his lips close to her ear. “Do you like it?”

The sensation of his breath on her ear sent a shiver of delight down her neck. “Yes, but―”

“I told you, don’t worry about the price. That’s not your job. Your job is to mingle and fit in with the other partygoers tonight. In order for them to accept you, you have to dress like them. These clothes are necessary. Just consider them a perk of the job.”

He turned to Helga. “We’ll take this one. Candy, try on the next one.”

Candace next tried on a flowing white gown. She came out and resumed her position in front of the mirrors. Mark moved up behind her, and this time he placed his hands on her upper arms. It was a possessive gesture that not only made her nervous but also confused her. She sure hoped he didn’t think he was going to get lucky tonight, or else this was going to be the shortest job she ever had.