"Carol. Earth to Carol. Ms. Peletier!" Carol startled to attention. Glenn furrowed his brow. "Are you alright? You haven't been this distracted since you were having the Bentley delivered for your father's birthday. Have you heard anything I just said?"
Carol smiled thinly and shook her head, "I'm fine. I'm listening. I just have a lot going on with the planning and all. I'm sorry. Please continue."
With an exaggerated sigh, Glen continued. "As I was saying, Teuscher agreed to donate chocolates for the gift bags. The performers are a go. We have the music." Glenn pursed his lips before continuing, "Also you have a few messages from Mr. Merle Dixon. Three to be exact. I think you should return them. You know, he made an incredibly generous donation to your benefit."
Carol sighed, rubbing her temples. These past few days, good lord. The call from Andrea confirming her appointment with Daryl, her nerves with this benefit and now Merle Dixon.
"Was it Mr. Dixon or his assistant?" Carol sighed wearily.
Glenn replied in a clipped tone, "He called personally. Said he'd very much like to speak with you."
Well, if Merle called personally it must have been somewhat important. Carol felt for Mr. Dixon's assistant. To put it mildly, Mr. Merle Dixon was an ass. A powerful ass, but an ass nonetheless. He could be crude and rough. That godforsaken accent of his. Sometimes she swore he exaggerated it just to intimidate and annoy. If you didn't know how to handle him, he would send you reeling.
Carol knew how to handle him. Whatever he gave, she gave right back. Fortunately, it was rare she had to deal with him. Their socials circles rarely, if ever, crossed. However, he did deal with her father on occasion.
She knew Merle would love getting his hooks into her father's empire given the slightest chance. What was he up to now? She grimaced in resignation, "Okay. I'll call him."
Flipping through his notes, Glenn shrugged, "That's all for now. Are you sure you're feeling okay? Forgive me for saying so, but you are out there today."
Again Carol offered a smile. If Glenn only knew. He was perceptive. She'd have to be very careful around him. "I'm fine Glenn. Let's call it a day. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Get some rest Carol. I'll see you tomorrow." Glenn leveled a last stern look and then hustled off, leaving Carol in silence. Silence to think about the evening ahead. Daryl would be here, tonight, to pick her up. They would be using her driver, but he was meeting her in the lobby. Every time she thought about it her stomach did flips. Was he as handsome in person as he was in his picture? What if he was boring? What if SHE was boring? She supposed that didn't matter. She was paying him after all.
When she had called Michonne earlier to express her fears, Michonne had only laughed. "Just think of him as an accessory sweetie. He's on your arm to make you look and feel good. That's all. Besides, I'll be there. If you look like you are drowning, I'll save you. Promise. Just relax and have fun, okay? "Carol had meekly agreed. She would think of him as a living, breathing Birkin.
First she would get calling Merle out of the way, then she would figure out the rest of the evening. As the line rang, she hoped he wouldn't answer. Please let him be out to lunch, taking over an empire, or whatever it was Merle Dixon did during the day. "Hello Darlin.'" Came his rough drawl, thick as honey, on the other end.
Crap. Steeling herself, Carol replied, "My assistant informed me you called three times."
"Awww….didn't mean to seem too eager Darlin'. I just have a bit of a dilemma. My daddy will be in town and wants him and me to get together with your daddy. I was just thinking it would be nice if you could come along to lighten things up a bit. With you being back on the market and all. It's been a while, I figured you would be ready to stick a toe back in the pool. "
Carol seethed, "What's the matter Merle. None of your mistresses available?" Merle was a known womanizer. He'd already burned through two marriages and it was common knowledge he had at least two mistresses at any given time. She remembered an incident at one of her father's garden parties. Rick had been mere feet away and Merle had come up behind her, grabbing her waist as he whispered close in her ear, "Why don't you lose pretty boy and get yourself a real man?" She didn't know what had disgusted her more; the fact he pulled that where Rick could have seen or the unbidden tingle and warmth in her lower belly that had no business being there.
"I trust you got my donation?" Merle purred, breaking her reverie.
What a shit. "Yes, Merle, thank you. It was most generous." Carol could see where this was going. Tit for tat.
"So come on then, humor me. Maybe afterwards I can take you up to my farm and we can…go riding." Carol sighed, did he really just say that? Crude joking aside, she knew riding, Dressage in particular, was Merle's passion. Unfortunately, due to a freak riding accident, he had lost most of the use in his left hand. It ended his brief riding career, but he still kept a farm and breeding facility for his prized Hanoverians.
"I didn't think you were broke to ride, Merle." Carol coolly quipped. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Just give Glenn the information and he'll see if my schedule is clear. I thank you for your donation and take care."
"Sounds good darlin'. You have yerself a fine evening." The line went dead.
Now with that out of the way, Carol thought, on to the important matter. What to wear for this evening? Nothing too sexy, nothing too stodgy. After careful consideration, she opted for a silky black backless Yves Saint Laurent slip dress. It was classy but sexy. She selected her Tiffany's Opera necklace for a hint of glimmer and sparkle and her brand new Louboutin Crosspiga's. Her feet would probably be murdering her by the end of the night, but damn she'd look good. She kept her make up simple and classy opting for smoky eyes and red lips. She finished with a light spritz of her signature scent, Yvresse. Light, subtle, sexy. Few people knew the fragrance existed, but she always got questions and compliments when she wore it.
Dressed and primped for her "date" she nervously checked the time. There was only 30 minutes to go.
Daryl stretched and yawned. He always liked to grab a quick nap before an assignment because he never knew how long the night would go. Part of him didn't want to leave this cozy silken cocoon. A quick check of the time ensured he had plenty of time for a shower and perhaps a drink.
He padded to the bar and poured himself a splash of scotch. He wanted to do a bit more research on Carol. He found himself more and more intrigued by her. She was wealthy as hell, not bad looking. What made her dial up an escort service? A dare? Some dark secret? Was she really a lesbian? With that short hair…maybe? She was a socialite but she seemed…different. She devoted a lot of her time to charities, battered women's causes in particular, along with some animal rescue groups. The scotch warmed its way to his belly as he scrolled through the various articles and tidbits. Aside from that Rick character, it didn't seem like she dated around too much. She didn't have that "spoiled princess" vibe a lot of these rich women he knew had. There really wasn't any dirt on her. He read and re-read the articles he found on her. His phone alarm chirped telling him it was time to get ready.
He studied his closet. For a gallery event, he wanted something stylish but maybe a little artsy. He selected his trusty black Prada pants, cream RL Purple label cashmere sweater, and to finish his Hermes leather jacket. Stylish but edgy. He looked like a respectable date. None would be the wiser that he was being paid for his company.
He double checked the address Andrea provided. He was to meet her in the lobby. The address certainly was a prestigious one. A quick check of the clock indicated it was time to go. He shotgunned the rest of his drink, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and headed out the door. It was show time.
Carol's phone buzzed, making her jump. It was the security desk. "Ms. Peletier. There's a gentleman here for you. Says his name is Daryl? He said you were expecting him. Shall I send him up?"
Daryl was here. Her heart slammed into her chest as she softly replied, "I'm expecting him. No need to send him up, I'll be right down. Please tell him I'll be there shortly. Thank you."
Well, this is it, she thought as she gathered her evening bag and shawl. Drawing a deep breath to settle herself, she pressed the button to summon the elevator. The doors whispered open and she stepped inside. Punching the L button, it seemed to take an eternity for the elevator to descend to the lobby.
As the doors glided open, she saw him right away. He was standing casually, fidgeting a little, just like any date would, with his jacket slung over his arm. Her breath caught. From here he was every bit as handsome as his picture.
Just an accessory. Michonne will be there. It will be fine. That was her mantra as she glided through the lobby, mustering every ounce of class and reserve she had. As she stopped before him, he regarded her with a slight twist to his lips, his blue eyes sparkling under the fringe of chestnut hair. "Ms. Peletier?"
She nodded, words lost to her. He smelled of leather and a cologne she could not identify.
Extending his hand, he smiled. "Hello Ms. Peletier. I'm Daryl. I'll be your date for the evening."