Elle (Sample)

Chapter Three

Investian's Charity Gala was more ostentatious than Elle had dreamed. The event raised money for an abundance of charities, from those dedicated to congenital heart defects to supporting families via food banks, all handpicked by the CEO himself as they were close to his heart. Elle had asked where the CEO was, thinking he was perhaps the one person here she'd liked to meet if he were this charitable. With a knowing grin, Dean had told her he was the sort to mingle and she'd undoubtedly talk to him at some point during the evening.

Most difficult for Elle was pretending she was a part of this world, where champagne and caviar were served by poker-faced waiters and people spoke of month long trips to 'the continent' or skiing in the alps. It all left a bitter taste on her tongue – particularly the caviar, which she thought was horrendously overrated and tasted like arse.

"So Charles and I were preparing for our annual trip to Fiji when one of the help comes to us insisting on a pay rise," an insufferable woman in her late 50s scoffed, commanding the attention of the group surrounding her. "Well, £1 an hour increase would really make no difference to our pockets but the woman scrubs toilets. If she'd wanted any more than minimum wage, she ought to have developed more useful skills."

Elle wanted to wring the woman's neck. She'd clearly never had to work for anything and sat on a fortune that provided her with ample time for vacations yet little need to work. Whoever the 'help' was, Elle could sympathise. Lack of empathy from rich employers was rife, especially in big corporations, and it wasn't any wonder staff turnover was so high.

Biting her tongue had been near impossible, but she'd managed it. When the insufferable woman left, whispers about her travelled through the dispersing group. Apparently this sort of impertinence was common for her, and her attitude hadn't earned her many fans at Investian.

"Does she work with you?" Elle asked.

"Paulette? She'd an investor. If she worked with us, she'd have been fired a long time ago."

Standing directly behind her, Dean's low voice sent a shiver down her spine, his lips grazing at the sensitive skin of her ear. His hands brushed down her arms, smoothing down the goosebumps that erupted over her. This was all part of the charade, she'd done it all before, but with him it felt far more natural. Usually she'd fight the urge to vomit and her skin would be crawling, but with him Elle didn't have to act when she smiled at the gesture. It was genuine.

The pair moved fluidly through the crowds, discussing menial things that Elle had little interest in. It was patently obvious that Dean was in the same predicament, merely nodding his head and offering small contributions to conversation simply to be polite.

No-one had questioned their relationship, instead commenting on what a lovely couple they made. Each person they spoke to complemented Elle on her dress and hair, not knowing it had cost less than what they undoubtedly earned in an hour. She took each compliment with a forced smile, and interacted with everyone Dean introduced her to.

It was bizarre for her to be earning looks of admiration, particularly from the men. Although she didn't doubt her own appeal, the sorts of people she spoke to this evening usually looked down on her, particularly when she was in public with her son. Her caramel skin, which was usually garnered derogatory comments from people like those surrounding her, was instead heralded as 'beautiful', 'exotic'. The illusion of her having wealth was the only thing to stop them from tearing her down, she was sure.

When she'd exhausted herself from being implausibly polite, her cheeks aching from smiling, Dean pulled Elle to the bar to grab a drink. They both had a glass of white wine, although she'd have killed for a vodka and coke, and sipped it in one of the quieter sections of the event.

"You've been brilliant tonight," Dean beamed. "I know it's your... forte... to do so, but you've got a way with people. Not many people can manage to charm a full room of Investian investors and partners."

"So none of the people here are your colleagues?" She asked, bemused. "You must be rather important to be here schmoozing the investors, then."

"Somewhat," he said with an uneven smirk. Elle's heart beat a little faster at the sight of it. "Have you ever thought about working in customer care?"

Of course she had. Elle was aware she had the ability to appear happy and bubbly even if she was in the foulest of moods, but it paid even less than the supermarket she'd worked at. Instead of telling Dean where to shove his unneeded suggestion, she simply downed the rest of her drink and gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"And have you ever thought about going into career councelling? 'Cause we seem to have spoken about my work a lot this evening."

"I'm sorry," he said, the edges of his mouth downturning infinitesimally. "I merely mean that I think you've a knack for it. But I won't mention it again."

Locking his lips and throwing away the key, Dean guided her towards the dance floor. His dancing was as smooth as the rest of him, his feet gliding across the floor in time with the music and with little difficulty. Elle didn't much enjoy dancing, but the way his body felt against hers swayed her. This would likely be the only night like this in her life, and she'd be damned if she didn't enjoy it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After what had been an overall enjoyable night, Dean dropped her off outside the hotel. The awkward exchange of money had come shortly before she left the car. She counted the money as discreetly as she could with his eyes upon her, and could have choked as the £50 notes climbed in excess of her fee.

"You've made a mistake." She spluttered. "That's double my fee."

"Well, I thought you did an especially good job."

Elle couldn't stand being seen as a charity case, but she needed the money. Swallowing the lump growing in her throat, she placed the money carefully inside her purse and tried not to excite herself over the difference it could make to her financial situation.

"Thank you, Dean. And not just for the money, but for tonight. I genuinely enjoyed myself."

"As did I," he said, his playful gaze dropping just a second to her lips before flitting back up. "Here's my number. I have a job opportunity you may be interested in, I think you'd be perfect for the role. Give me a call and we can have an informal chat."

Struggling to contain a hysteric laugh, Elle toyed with the card he handed her. She'd had many clients at the end of the night try to goad her into more illicit services, and she was sure this was a case of much the same. He'd given her the additional money to butter her up, and the 'job opportunity' was undoubtedly the usual offered to her by other clients. No matter how desperate her situation, Elle wouldn't sell her body.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"It's not what you're thinking. I'm not asking you for anything like that," Dean said pointedly, acknowledging the doubt flickering in her brown eyes. "Please just give me a call sometime and we can talk about it. If it's not your thing, no harm no foul. But it pays well."

Elle left the car sure that she wouldn't take him up on his offer, but pocketed the card nonetheless. Part of her wanted to find out more about his proposition – he hadn't come across as a pervert, and maybe he was honest when he said his intentions weren't what she thought.

And in any case, another part of her wanted to have an excuse to speak to him again.