The Heiress's Pregnancy Surprise (Heirs to an Empire 2)

Charlotte swallowed tightly as she recalled the letter that had accused her of being a “stuck-up bitch.” Was she? Or was she just trying to find her way and sometimes failing?

“Charlotte?” Amelie’s voice cut into her thoughts. “What do you think about the interview with Vogue tomorrow?”

“Oh. Right.” Charlotte shook her head and reminded herself to focus on the job at hand. She couldn’t let herself be distracted. “Let’s go over the details again.”

They spent three hours and drank tons more coffee before they were through it all. Aurora’s show wasn’t until Wednesday, at Spring Studios, and there was already a team in place preparing for that. All Charlotte had to do was be the face of the company, the representative on the ground if anything went wrong, and show up at all the sparkling engagements. It sounded easy, but she felt a lot of pressure to do her mother and the company proud. To look her best. To be effervescent and lovely and smart in the interviews. To be herself and yet be all things Aurora. The balancing act was sometimes tough to execute.

The interview prep was the biggest thing. She had a document that was fifty pages long of talking points and highlights of each division’s key initiatives. When six o’clock arrived, Amelie looked at her phone and then at Charlotte.

Charlotte grinned; she recognized that look. “Dinner plans?”

“At seven thirty.”

“And you need to change.”

Amelie smiled back, her eyes twinkling. “Something like that.”

“Go, we’ve covered lots of ground this afternoon. We’ll pick you up in the morning, so we can be in Tribeca at eight thirty.” Charlotte shuddered. That sounded so early, though with the jet lag she’d probably be up at four in the morning anyway.

“Perfect. See you then.” Then Amelie leaned over and murmured, “I suppose you’re bringing your Mr. Wolfe with you?”

Heat rushed into Charlotte’s cheeks. “He’s not my Mr. Wolfe. And yes. This week, he goes where I go.”

Amelie’s eyes twinkled again and Charlotte laughed. “Go, or you’ll be late.”

She heard Amelie wish Jacob a good evening, and his lower response. The deepness of his voice set something off in her belly, something unexpected and a bit wicked. Ugh, she hadn’t had time for romance in ages, and most would be surprised how quiet her social life was. Now she was shacked up with Jacob for a week and she’d need to keep it totally professional.

That didn’t mean she was blind and didn’t have an imagination, though. And not for the first time in her life, she knew her imagination had the potential to get her into trouble.

* * *

Jacob saw Amelie to the door and then let out a breath when he closed it behind her. He was alone with Charlotte now, and while he had always been a consummate professional, he’d also never had a client so...lovely. It seemed an innocuous word, but it suited her. He could have said beautiful or stunning, but it wasn’t just her looks. Even when she was a little on the annoyed side of things, there was a gentleness to her that he liked. Not to be mistaken for weakness, though. He was good at reading people, and he knew instinctively that Charlotte might have an innate sweetness, but she knew her mind and knew how to get things done. He was sure she could tell off any of his men and they’d all say, “Aw, thanks, love.”

He smiled a little at that. She was lovely, and not to be underestimated. He’d caught bits and pieces of her conversation with Amelie and very quickly understood that this week wasn’t about being a social butterfly, but representing a multinational company during one of the biggest weeks of the year.

So what if fashion wasn’t his thing? Clearly it was big business, and he respected that.

She was still in the dining room, clicking away on her laptop, so he figured he might as well start some dinner. The fridge was well stocked, and he was surprised to find some of his favorites among the offerings. Aurora had been very thorough, hadn’t they? He took out some chicken and vegetables and started making a simple stir-fry.

He popped his head into the dining room and asked, “You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

She looked up, through her glasses that made her seem damned sexy. “What? Oh, no, I’m not. I don’t eat much red meat, but truthfully I’ll eat almost anything.”

“Music to my ears. Dinner in twenty minutes.”

“Jacob, you don’t have to cook—”

“I don’t mind. Not much else to do when we’re here. Besides, I’m hungry.” He flashed her a smile and then dipped back into the kitchen.

Cooking was something he knew how to do and he enjoyed. His mother had died when he was twelve, leaving him with his dad, a Met police officer. The two of them had learned to cook together, first simple stuff, and then more involved. He could make a wicked cottage pie, and a more than passable butter chicken. For years he’d eaten in mess halls and MREs in the field, but at home he liked indulging in cooking for himself.

A stir-fry? He could do that with his eyes closed.

The scents of garlic and ginger wafted up as he went to work chopping peppers and mushrooms. He found broccoli in the crisper and a bag of bean sprouts. As the chicken sizzled, he searched the pantry for what he needed to make a simple sauce, and then a bag of rice and a steamer. Perfect. It was all on the go when Charlotte finally stepped inside the room.

“That smells amazing.”

He looked up and smiled. “I can cook. Surprised?”