One to Chase (One to Hold 7)

“There’s a Paige Goldfarb here to see you.” She hesitates, and I feel like the rug just got pulled. “She says she has an appointment, but it’s not on my calendar. What should I do?”

Paige? As if this day could get any more unexpected. “It’s fine.” I stand and go to the door. “I’ll show her back.”

Charity leads me to the front where Paige is standing in the anteroom, looking ready to fight. Her hair is tied back in a messy bun, and she’s wearing a fuchsia pantsuit with what appears to be a black leotard-cami under the jacket. On her feet are strappy black heels. She the model of stripper-turned-kickass heiress, and I won’t lie, while Amy consumes my desires, Paige is fucking hot.

“Paige.” I smile and extend my hand.

Her posture relaxes, and she immediately moves to where I’m standing, giving me a shake. “Marcus, thanks for seeing me on short notice. We need to talk.”

“This way.” I step to the side and hold the door for her. Thank god I’m used to strong women. The only feelings I have at this moment are curiosity mixed with a dash of gratitude for the distraction.

She steps through the door into the hallway and waits for me to lead her back to my office. I nod and pass her. Amy’s standing at the other end of the hall facing us, and I’m a bastard, but her startled expression almost makes me smile. Are you worried, beautiful?

Inside my office, Paige wastes no time getting to the point. “I said you’d be hearing from me. It’s time.”

Pushing back in my chair, I cross an ankle over my knee and assess her demeanor. She’s not anxious or desperate, which isn’t good. She’s calm, and I know I’m not getting out of this easily. Or at all. I decide to do a little fishing.

“Time for...?” My brow lines as if I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Mr. Merritt.” Paige leans back in her leather chair across from my desk, crossing her own ankle over her knee. “You’ll disappoint me. Everyone’s told me you’re a smart guy.”

Touché, Miss Hotness. Scooting forward, I rest my forearms on the desk. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Well, sadly, it’s like this.” She’s cool as a cucumber. “Karen Philpot has taken it into her empty head—which is normally lodged solidly up her ass—to ruin me because apparently I gave her fiancé a lap dance or I sucked him off back in the day. God, who can even remember all that?”

A sly grin curves Paige’s slim lips, and her blue eyes twinkle. I can tell she enjoys getting under Karen’s skin, but that doesn’t explain why she’s here.

I’m game, so I ask the obvious question. It’s my job, after all. “What the fuck do you care about Karen Philpot?”

“Honestly?” She inhales deeply, lowering her foot to the floor. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what Karen Philpot does. I don’t care what half the hypocritical assholes in this town think.”

“Then why—”

“But...” Her eyebrows rise, and this is where she shows the smarts that made her the highest paid stripper back in the day. “I intend to get married at some point—and not to Ricky Bobby. I intend to have children. And I won’t have them treated like trash.”

“You’re worried about being black balled?” My brow lines. “Move to another city. What about New York? Hell, you’d probably love it there, and I’m sure New York would love you.”

“Chicago is my home. My mother’s here.” She looks at a well-manicured hand before cutting those ice-blue eyes to me. “And I’ll be damned if I let Karen Philpot bully me.”

I can understand that at least. A deep inhale, and I’m ready to hear the worst. “So what do you want from me?”

A smile lifts her cheek. “It seems you’re the Newland Archer of the Near North side.”

I confess, I’m surprised she’s acquainted with Edith Wharton. Much less knows how to use the literary reference. “It’s a bunch of bullshit. I don’t wield that kind of power.”

“Whatever, Marcus. I agree it’s bullshit. That doesn’t make it inaccurate.” She sits straighter. “You’re going to help me.”

I’m pissed that I feel trapped. I didn’t ask her to follow me into that bathroom. I didn’t tell her to put my dick in her mouth. Still, it was so sweet seeing Cocksucker’s cheeks pink with rage, knowing I’d gotten a five-star hummer from the woman he’d been stalking. I do owe her.

“How.” It’s not a question.

“It’s shockingly easy. Apparently the one thing that can trump Karen’s bitch schemes is the seal of approval from one of you males, and apparently you’re the top dog in the bachelor kennel.”

“You want me to take out a full-page ad in the Tribune?”

“Don’t patronize me. Nobody reads the paper anymore.” I watch as she slides a platinum strand off her cheek and behind her ear. “We’ll, quote, date for a little while until everyone’s decided I’m acceptable—or until some new target comes along to make them forget me—then we go our separate ways. The end.”

“You make it sound so easy.”