Fleming. The ‘big boss man.’ Picturing his cool, handsome face—the one that gazed so disdainfully out from the Fleming Organisation’s website—Daisy felt her heart thump nervously. It was true. Despite the fact that the party was in his building, for his staff, Rollo had declined to attend.
Of course, there had been the usual rumours he would turn up unannounced. Someone even claimed to have seen him in the foyer. But Daisy knew for sure that he wasn’t coming. Rollo Fleming was in Washington on business, and by the time he returned the party would be wrapped up. Finished. Over.
And not just the party, she thought, glancing furtively at the clock on the wall.
‘So do you work for him?’
Startled, she turned and saw that Joanne was looking curiously at Tom.
He nodded. ‘Yeah, for about a year now.’
‘Really?’ Joanne’s eyes widened. ‘He is seriously hot. What’s he like?’
Her question was directed at Tom, but Daisy had to bite her tongue to stop herself from replying. Hours scouring the internet had turned her into the world’s leading authority on Rollo Fleming. Not that there was much to know. He rarely gave interviews and, aside from being photographed with a string of breathtakingly beautiful models and socialites, his private life was largely undocumented.
Tom shrugged, and a mixture of awe and admiration crossed his face. ‘I don’t have that much to do with him personally. But when it comes to business he’s definitely got the Midas touch. And he gets all the hottest babes.’
He frowned.
‘He’s kinda scary too though. I mean, he works insanely hard and he’s a total control freak. He knows everything that’s going on—and I mean every tiny detail. And he’s obsessed with honesty...’ He paused, frowning. ‘I was in a meeting with him once and there was a problem. Someone tried to cover it up and he was... Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.’
Daisy felt her stomach twist.
Tom’s words confirmed everything David had already told her. Rollo Fleming was a ruthless workaholic and a commitment-phobic philanderer. Basically a supercharged version of Nick, her ex, and exactly the kind of man she loathed.
Looking up, her heart gave a jolt—not at the memory of her latest failed relationship but at the time showing on the clock. Her shift was nearly over. On any other evening she would have been relieved, but tonight was different. Tonight was the first and hopefully the last time she would have to choose between breaking a promise and breaking the law.
‘Are you okay?’ Joanne nudged her arm. ‘You look like you’re going to be sick.’
Daisy swallowed. She felt as if she was too. Just thinking about what she was about to do was making the contents of her stomach curdle.
She smiled weakly. ‘I know it’s the city that never sleeps, but sometimes I wish New York would have an early night!’
‘Look...’ Glancing around, Joanne lowered her voice. ‘Why don’t you go home? I can finish up here.’
Daisy shook her head. ‘I’m just tired. And I don’t want to leave you in the lurch—’
‘You’re not!’ Joanne frowned. ‘So stop pretending you feel okay.’
Daisy hesitated. She hated lying to Joanne, particularly when her friend was being so kind. But she could hardly tell her the truth. She was only just coming to terms with it herself.
Stomach tightening, she thought back to the moment four days ago when she’d arrived back at David’s apartment to find him in tears. After much coaxing he’d finally confessed that he had a gambling problem. Only it was way more than a problem. It turned out he’d been gambling and losing money for months, and his debt had spiralled out of control.
Daisy shivered. Her parents had drummed into them the importance of living within their means. But David’s debt was the least of his problems. Dropping off some papers in Rollo Fleming’s office earlier that day, he had noticed a watch on the floor. Only it hadn’t been just any watch. It had been an exclusive designer watch. And he hadn’t just noticed it. He’d picked it up and pocketed it, imagining that he’d be able to sell it and thus clear his debt.
Back home, he’d realised what he’d done and broken down completely. Which was why Daisy had ended up promising to return it for him.
The thought jogged her back into real time. Looking up, she grimaced. ‘I do feel a bit odd. Maybe I will go now. Thanks, Jo. You’re a star.’
Joanne nodded. ‘Yes, I am. But don’t be too grateful. I need you to cover for me on Tuesday.’ Her face softened. ‘Cam’s taking me out to dinner. It’s our six-month anniversary.’
That was what she wanted to be doing, Daisy thought dully as she negotiated a path between the drunken partygoers into the deserted hallway. Going on an anniversary date with a boyfriend.
But, of course, that would require a boyfriend.
And five weeks ago Nick had decided that he needed some space.
Space!
Glumly, she stopped in front of the lifts.
Romeo never told Juliet he needed ‘space.’
Antony hadn’t said, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ to Cleopatra.
She stared at her reflection in the gleaming steel doors.
All men were unreliable and selfish or, more likely, she was just an extremely poor judge of character. Either way, she’d had enough. For the foreseeable future she was going to enjoy being single.
Reaching into the large pocket at the front of her apron, she pulled out a laminated card and stared down at her brother’s face. Thank goodness for David. He was always there for her—helping her rehearse for auditions, even finding her this waitressing job.
Swiping the card, she felt her breath twitch in her throat as the light turned green and the doors slid open smoothly.
She owed David big time.
And now she had a chance to pay him back.
Her fingers trembled. But could she do it. Could she actually go through with it?
She hesitated. But only for a moment.
David was waiting downstairs for her in the lobby and the thought of his face, his relief as she walked towards him, propelled her forward.
Inside the lift, panicky thoughts fluttered inside her head, darting back and forth like startled birds, but then the doors were opening and, heart pounding, she stepped into a dimly lit corridor.
David had told her which office belonged to Rollo and, her heels clicking lightly on the polished wood floor, she walked across the reception area and came to a standstill in front of a plain wooden door. For a moment she stared at it in silence. There was no nameplate—nothing to differentiate it from any of the other doors—and for a moment she wondered why. It seemed a strangely modest touch from a man worth billions who made no secret of the fact that he considered himself not just a businessman but an empire builder.
But then, did a man like Rollo Fleming really need any introduction? Particularly in the gleaming glass tower that bore his name.
It felt like she was about to enter the lion’s den. But, lifting her chin, she braced her shoulders. The lion wasn’t at home. And by the time he returned, she would be long gone.
Breathing in sharply, she swiped the card and pushed open the door.
Everything was silent and dark. But through the window all the familiar landmarks were lit up against the night sky, and she gazed at it in wonder. Rollo Fleming must have the best view in New York. But every moment spent in his office increased her risk of being caught and, galvanised by that thought, she stepped forward