THE PROPOSAL
CHAPTER ONE – Meet Stella Bart
Donna Paulsen wasn't feeling in the mood for a celebration.
After three weeks of non-stop hard work at Pearson Spector Litt, the graveyard of a law firm which was once one of New York City's finest, the last place she wanted to go on a Saturday evening was to Jessica's swanky charade of a party. She felt uneasy celebrating. She didn't know whether the deal with the European firm, Roche & Roche, would work out. Harvey had been against it from the start, which she expected as he hated change, but Jessica had been adamant that they couldn't rebuild the firm without outside help and, as every American law firm they considered had turned them down, they had to look elsewhere. Donna was encouraged that Jessica had known her Parisian counterpart, Claude Roche, for over 20 years and their friendship had been the reason why Harvey eventually agreed to the deal. The other reason Harvey eventually agreed was that they weren't merging with Roche & Roche the way they had done so disastrously four years ago with Darby International. Instead they were receiving investment in the shape of a partnership he hoped they would one day be able to buy out. The deal was clear – Roche & Roche's euros and a skeleton staff of professionals in exchange for 30% of Jessica and Harvey's firm and a foothold in the USA.
Tonight the party was going to be a chance to informally welcome the new European team, particularly Jessica's friend and counterpart, Claude Roche. It would be the first time she had met any of these people, but she was deflated that she was feeling so indifferent about the party. She couldn't put a finger on why she was feeling like this as she usually loved any excuse to get dressed up. The lavish affair Jessica and Claude had organised at one of New York's finest restaurants would have been something she would have usually looked forward to for days. Uncharacteristically she'd had to practically drag herself to her hair stylist's earlier in the day and she hadn't even bought herself a new dress for the occasion. She just wasn't feeling 'it'.
To top it all off, earlier she'd had a fight with Mitchell. It had been the same-old-same-old argument about her putting in too many hours at the office and prioritising work over him. She felt hurt. He should respect and understand what they'd all been through these past few months but then again how could he? She had avoided his requests to meet her friends repeatedly so she knew he couldn't understand what was happening in her life. In the beginning her relationship with Mitchell had been refreshing. He was the first man she had dated in years who hadn't been a lawyer, or who wasn't connected to Harvey in some way, and she wanted to keep her time with him totally separate from work. He had been free tonight and had asked about the party, but she had lied and told him it was for work colleagues only. She could tell he hadn't believed her, but she didn't care. She didn't want him to come and she didn't want him to know anybody at the firm – especially Harvey – because every time that had happened in the past, the end of her relationship had swiftly followed.
As her taxi pulled up at the fancy French Restaurant Jessica had booked, she sighed at the thought of the hours of small talk ahead of her. She was a people person and an extrovert who always enjoyed being at the heart of a good party, but it was more difficult for her to be herself with people she didn't know. Plus there'd be cultural differences which were always a pain in the ass. To make thing worse, Rachel had bowed out. They always used to have a riot together at these types of events, creating their own pre-party get-together where they'd spend the entire day having facials, hair appointments, beauty treatments and lots of shopping, but Rachel had become a different person over the last few weeks, which was understandable given the circumstances. Rachel had spent every weekend alone since Mike went to prison and she had declined all of Donna's invitations to go round to her place. Donna missed her best friend's company and she was worried about her.
As she got out of the cab, Donna looked through the glass windows of the restaurant at the sea of black tuxedos intermingled with the occasional flash of colours, sequins and sparkles. She was relieved she'd worn a black dress and hoped she'd be able to sink into the background against the penguin suits – after saying the necessary hello's of course. Hopefully she'd be able to leave early and have a relaxing Sunday.
"Penny for them?"
Donna turned around to see a dark haired woman with bright red lipstick smoking a cigarette just outside the restaurant's side door. The woman's green eyes shone brightly under a thick hedge of black eyelashes. She had shining porcelain skin, perfectly sculpted eyebrows and high cheekbones.
"Excuse me?" she said in reply.
The woman smiled warmly and stubbed out the remainder of her cigarette on her silver case. "Penny for your thoughts," she repeated in a cheerful, British accent.
"Oh, you know, just wondering what I'm going to find when I go through those doors," said Donna with undisguised trepidation. She also hoped she'd understood correctly what 'penny for your thoughts' meant.
The woman smiled again and offered her hand, "Stella Bart," she said crisply, "Junior Partner at Roche & Roche."
Donna shook Stella's hand and smiled. "Donna," she said.
"Just Donna?" asked Stella raising her eyebrow as her scarlet lips turned upwards into a delightful grin.
"Oh no, never 'just' Donna, but well, you'll see," said Donna in the witty style which captured her exceptional brand of self-confidence.
Stella laughed raucously, "I hope I will see," she replied as she popped her cigarette holder into her clutch bag. Donna noted that Stella had a unique style which she assumed reflected her nationality and the fact she had lived in Paris for a while. In her heels, she was slightly shorter than Donna and her face was round with pouting lips, glossy cheeks and smouldering green eyes. Her skin was pale, maybe even paler than Donna's, and her hair was dark brown and swept into an immaculate up-do. Stella had a noticeable hourglass figure with an enviable cleavage and her black cocktail dress gave her a classic 1950's hourglass silhouette which, together with her accent, reminded Donna of Elizabeth Taylor in the film 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof'.
"Is it your first time in New York?" asked Donna embarking on the dreaded small-talk.
"Yes, it is," she replied, "and I'm so excited. I've spent nine years in Paris which was divine, but … well, it's lovely to have a change. Besides, I was getting fat with all the croissants," she chuckled.
Donna watched her expression closely. "You're running away," she said.
Stella pouted in surprise. "What?" she gasped, "how do you know that?"
"I know everything," smiled Donna, "plus I can tell because of the way you were holding your cigarette. You were enjoying it just a little too much which means you haven't smoked in a while. You probably haven't smoked in a while because someone … a boyfriend, no, a husband, didn't like it, so you stopped. But, now he's left you … because of your work. He thought you worked too much and he felt he was second place. Oh wait there's something else. Your dress is a confidence dress because your husband was jealous of you. Yes that's it, you were more successful than him and he couldn't handle it, so after what? Five, six years? He leaves you and you jump at the chance for a new start and be yourself again."
"Jesus-fucking-Christ how did you do that?" said Stella, her eyes huge with astonishment.
"I told you earlier, I'm Donna," she said with a smile.
Stella took Donna's arm and tugged her towards the restaurant door, "you're bloody wicked, Donna," she said. "We're going to be great friends, you'll see."
