"We need this acquisition," Theresa implored.
Alistair stifled a yawn.
"Don't you think it's time we revolutionized the look of Crane?"
"And you think stepping into the fashion arena is going to do it for us?"
"It's going to get us a whole lot of publicity—good publicity—and we need some right about now. Lately, all the news coming from the papers and tabloids have tarnished the Crane image. We've aired too much of our dirty laundry. It's time we fold some of it up."
Alistair smiled thoughtfully. Despite the fact that he was a strong believer in the power of blood ties, this young woman was certainly proving herself worthy of being part of the Crane family.
"But that's not the real reason."
"Of course not," he murmured.
"What do rich, successful business men always have on their arm?"
"A beautiful model," he answered as he began to understand her reasons. "Where there are models, there are more connections we can make. And more pockets we can pull from."
"Exactly," she replied.
"Yes! Yes, this is perfect."
"How much are you going to give me for it?"
"The connections we're going to make will be priceless. Whatever it takes."
"All right," she nodded. "Nothing more than forty million—they're hardly worth much more now. The agency needs the Crane name and backing to be worth over that."
"Get it done. And soon. I'd like to sample some of these lovely models myself," he grinned lasciviously.
She rolled her eyes; she was used to his innuendo and his sexual urges after working alongside him for the past six months.
"At least I didn't have to appeal to your baser instincts to get your approval this time," she teased.
"Alistair!" Theresa gasped as he entered her corner office and immediately stood up from her leather chair.
He rarely came to her—she always was running to him with her ideas, contracts, anything—so it was always a surprise when he graced her with his presence.
"I see I have caught you off guard, my dear."
"I'm a little surprised. You tend to have people go to you. So, what brings you to visit me?"
"I have a gift for you."
She eyed him carefully. "A gift?"
He offered her a thin red box with a simple red ribbon wrapped around it.
Cautiously, she pulled the tie apart and lifted the cover off the box. Inside, there was a glittering scarlet dress which she pulled out and held up so she could see the length.
"It's gorgeous," she said breathlessly. "Thank you, but—"
He laughed. "Yes, I suppose there is a 'but.' There is an event I need you to attend with me."
"Oh, really?"
"Wipe that worried look off your face, Theresa. Your 'virtue' won't be harmed."
She rewarded him with a little laugh for his joke—Alistair Crane only made jokes in the most intimate and trusted company; that she realized.
"What is the event?"
"An engagement party."
She smiled—she loved weddings. "Who got engaged? Current connections or possible new ones? And tell me it's for love and not money."
"It's a surprise," he grinned mischievously.
"Alistair, won't you please tell me more about this party?" Theresa whined and looked up at him with pleading doe eyes.
He merely laughed and readjusted himself against the leather limousine seat. "Patience, my dear."
"You know I don't like surprises. I think I've had to handle enough of those," she replied dryly.
"Is that bitterness I hear in your voice?" he grinned. "I thought you'd gotten better at hiding your emotions."
"Usually. But it's not as if you can't see through the façade; after all, you're the one who taught me how to mask my feelings."
"They can't be too important, can they?" Theresa murmured as she stepped out of the stretched black car. "This is only the Seascape. We're still in Harmony—"
"Oh, but they are," he smiled. "Come on, my dear," he urged as he held out his hand.
She took it gracefully and allowed him to pull her near his side. They walked towards the restaurant's entrance with poise and elegance as several bulbs flashed as Theresa smiled slightly—it wasn't a frown, so there wasn't total indifference upon her face, but there was mystery and intrigue underneath the subtle play of her lips—while Alistair looked as stoic and unmoved as ever.
"You were made for the public eye," he praised her as the doorman ushered them into the crowded party.
She winked at him before focusing on the people and the music that surrounded them.
"Oh, my god," she cried as her face fell and immediately turned her back on the familiar faces she loathed to see together.
Alistair wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her from sliding to the floor in a boneless heap. "Smile, my dear, the happy couple is approaching us."
There were hot, flaming daggers shooting from her eyes as she sent him a murderous look which spoke louder than any words could have.
"Grandfather, how nice of you to come," Fox said sarcastically. "I'm sure you've met my fiancé, Whitney."
"Is that anyway to greet your grandfather? I did pay for this fiasco, didn't I?"
Fox rolled his eyes. He had jumped on his grandfather's offer to foot the engagement party's bill, but he couldn't help but wonder what other plans he had in store for him. Rarely did Alistair do anything nice without having an ulterior motive.