She did as he asked, setting her purse on the floor by her feet before she rested her hands on the cool tabletop. He sat directly across from her, his movements smooth, efficient, and he mirrored her position. The sleeve of his jacket rose, revealing the large stainless-steel watch he wore around his wrist.
It was by Worth—she recognized the iconic design immediately. And she knew it cost more than she could imagine making.
“How is your father?” His words, his face were one of complete and utter concern.
“I want to apologize for his lack of communication. It was very rude of him and I’m sorry.” He’d gotten right to the point, hadn’t he? She’d hoped to dance around the subject of her father for at least a few minutes. “As he gets older, he becomes more…eccentric.” Why did it feel like she’d spent her entire life apologizing for her father and his odd ways?
He nodded as if he
understood. “He’s somewhat of a mythical legend amongst the designers and luxury houses in the industry.”
She smiled. It was true. Her father had quite the reputation for being an utter recluse. “He prefers anonymity when he works, doesn’t like others to disturb him.”
“That’s why it was such a surprise when he agreed to work for Worth.”
“I agree.” She couldn’t begin to explain the downward spiral Michel Durand had taken upon making that verbal agreement with Worth. He’d gone into complete shutdown mode, squirreling himself away in the small laboratory he’d built on the property near his house years ago. Muttering to himself, talking of elements and scents and scribbling copious notes that meant nothing to anyone else who tried to read them.
All of it had been for naught. He’d never spoken to anyone from Worth Luxury again. Despite the calls, the certified letters and packages full of thick contracts, the voicemail messages, he ignored them all, bringing forth humiliation and censure upon the Durand name yet again.
Ella was the closest person to her father and yet she didn’t understand him. She never really had.
“I’m not going to ask what happened. It’s none of my business,” he said briskly, sweeping the uncomfortable topic right under the virtual rug. “Just know that we at Worth Luxury are sorry we couldn’t come to a formal agreement with your father. We would’ve loved to have worked with him.”
She nodded slowly, recognizing a rejection when she received one. He was merely being kind. Patting her on the head, telling her how sorry he was that it didn’t work out, and then he’d escort her right out of the iconic Worth building. Leave her standing on the sidewalk like the worthless perfumer’s apprentice she really was. “I’m sure he feels the same. Thank you for your time,” she said weakly, pushing back her chair so she could stand.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded when she gripped the arms of the chair, her body halfway out of it.
“I—I thought we were done.” Her cheeks hot with embarrassment, she plopped back down into the chair, the incredulous expression on his face shocking her silent. He wanted to talk more?
And what was with the bossy way he just spoke to her? If she was being truthful, the firm tone of his voice aroused her.
Just the slightest bit, though she pushed that odd realization aside.
“Oh, no. We’re not done.” His lips curved into a slow, breathtaking smile and she squeezed the chair arms so tight, her fingers ached.
“We’re not?” she asked stupidly, closing her eyes briefly when she realized what a ninny she sounded like. But what could he want?
“We’re definitely not. I have a proposition for you, Miss Durand.” Rhett Worth leaned across the table, his gaze locking with hers. “And I’m hoping you’ll say yes.”
Chapter Two
She was pretty, Gabriella Durand. Not his usual type, but attractive nonetheless. She had a much more natural vibe going on, what with the honey-colored hair pulled back into a casual ponytail, minimal—if any—makeup on her face and the simple black dress she wore. No jewelry adorned her ears or neck, no flashy rings on her fingers, and she wore flat black sandals that looked more suited to the beach than an office.
Clearly, Gabriella didn’t live in the city.
She was also nervous, had appeared disappointed once he started talking. The little line that formed between her delicate dark blonde brows gave her away. He had a feeling she thought he was going to send her packing once he offered his regrets that her father wouldn’t work for them.
He’d be an absolute fool to let her go. If he couldn’t get Michel Durand, he’d get the next best thing: the prodigal daughter.
“What sort of proposition are you talking about, Mr. Worth?” she asked softly. He liked her voice. It was sweetly husky, if there was such a thing. A little dark, a lot sexy, what with that subtle French accent he detected.
Smiling, he shook his head. “There’s no need for such formality. Please, call me Rhett.”
“All right.” She nodded, rested her clutched hands on the edge of the table. “Explain to me what kind of proposition you refer to then. If you want me to speak with my father in regards to him coming to work for Worth, I’m afraid I’ve already tried to do so. And I failed miserably.”
Good to know she tried to encourage her father to work here. At least she saw the merit in the merger. It would’ve been the talk of the fashion industry. Hell, there’d already been a few low-key murmurs buzzing amongst their competitors. Mentions of a new perfume and Michel Durand being the one who would create it. The PR reps at Worth—led by Hunter—had never discouraged the rumors.
Announcing Gabriella Durand as their new perfumer would really turn the industry on its ear. She was a relative unknown most big players in the industry wouldn’t give a chance, which had to discourage her. He knew he could certainly relate since his brothers were reluctant to give him a chance, though he gave them reason to be.