DoubleP 1975

"Care package? Oh, you mean the basic necessities one needs after having alcohol poisoning? That wasn't a care package, that was just me being quick to react. You were over-served at my hotel bar. And I'll have you know I fired that bartender last night."

That throws you for a loop. "Oh my god.. I.. I feel so shitty about that."

"It's no problem. I never liked Manny anyway. We've found someone much more respectable to take his place."

"Is that why you're calling me? Keeping me up to date with your personnel changes? Or do all guests of The Velvet Crown receive such luxury?" There's a bit of venom in your voice, hiding your shock that Joel had gone and done such a drastic thing, even if he had good reason for it.

"I'm calling to see if you and Miss Singh are available for brunch. I'd like to speak with you both about the.. situation regarding my brother."

You glance towards the bathroom where Claudia is fixing her hair. She mouths a question, asking who's on the phone. You mouth Joel and make a wanking motion. She stifles a giggle.

You'd been planning on going to the Met or the Whitney Museum today, but here's Joel, handing you a golden egg on a platinum platter. You feel it in your bones that he's going to make you an offer. "Sure, Joel, we'd be delighted to meet you for brunch," you say loud enough for Claudia to hear. She shakes her head, mouthing something you can't understand until you read Tommy on her lips as she points to an invisible watch on her wrist. Oh, she has plans after all. "On second thought, it's just gonna be me," you tell him, giving Claudia the middle finger in mock annoyance. Leave it to her to let you battle the beast alone.

"Excellent. I'll pick you up in an hour. I hope that's enough time to make yourself.. presentable." Click. You stare in shock at the receiver after he hangs up.

The ride to Twenty Three Grand is awkward, as Joel is the only one talking.. to his cell phone. He's looking irritated, eyes darting everywhere but to you, next to you in the backseat of the BMW that's being chauffered by someone you heard him call Dina, while his assistant, a quiet young man named Jesse, smiles at you from the passenger seat, seemingly embarrased. You imagine Joel doesn't have many visitors, or at least women he takes to brunch while he's still doing business.

Even so, the small possibility that you might be one of many that he's brought in this luxury SUV makes you uneasy, and you hate that it does.

"Tell Castillo he'll have to wait. I'm not pouring another cent into that investment this quarter," Joel's grumbling over the phone. You sneak a look at him from under your lashes. You're still not sure exactly what hair product he uses to get the ends of his hair to curl just so, that it beckons your fingers to run through them. His eyes are sharp, his lips deliciously full-looking as he speaks with authority. And from there, the handsome hook of his nose, strong and aquiline, sends your thoughts to a place you aren't sure you want to go. After hanging up his call he catches you looking. You glance away, willing yourself to be cool about it.

"I thought you'd pick me up in a limo," you say evenly, checking the shine on your new manicure. He's putting his phone away for the moment, having barked orders at the right people at the right time.

"Limos are more Tommy's thing," he grumbles. "Besides, we're not on our way to a homecoming dance."

The restaurant is exactly the kind of place you'd enjoy, and you make a mental note to bring Claudia here before you leave New York. Unfortunately, despite the elegant ambience, Joel is all business and gets down to brass tacks immediately.

"I'm making an offer of fifty thousand dollars, to be split by yourself and Miss Singh, to leave the city now. Of course my lawyer will draw up non-disclosure agreements to bar you both from speaking about any of this, and your phones and other devices will be wiped clear of any lingering message to or from my brother."

You haven't even bitten into your omelette and he's already chasing you out of town. "Fifty thousand dollars," you repeat slowly. "That's a lot of dough for a girl like me.."

"It could change your life," he agrees.

"It could.." you innocently sip your mimosa. Joel eyes you, as if silently warning you to take it easy on the drinks. Glaring at him you finish the rest in one gulp and signal the waiter for another.

"But I feel shortchanged.. belittled, really.. insulted by that lowball offer." You lean forward on your elbows, ready to play hardball with the billionaire in front of you.

He plays your game, leaning forward as well. His dark eyes are stony in their depth, as if looking right past you. "Name your price. And don't be extravagant," he adds. "Know your worth."

You scoff at that low blow. "I don't understand why you dislike me so much."

"'Dislike' is a very strong word. I'd prefer.. distrust."

"Then why do you distrust me?"

"You're kidding, right?" His would-be smile vanishes. "You've duped my idiotic little brother out of thousands of dollars in just a few months. I don't know how you managed to be so duplicitous and get away with it. He's young and stupid, I'll admit. But he's never dealt with an actual catfish before."

"You know, I'm really tired of that term. Catfish are slimy and gross." You shudder.

"It's the honest term for the web of lies you've so charmingly weaved around my brother. Or do you prefer con artist? Charlatan? Grifter?"

"I've always liked 'mountebank.'" You give him a full smile, ripping the orange slice away from its rind in your refreshed mimosa. "Sounds strong.. like someone with balls."

Joel's eyes drop to your mouth for the most brief of moments before meeting your eyes again, a new darkness settled in them. "A hundred thousand," he offers in a low voice.

You nearly choke. Tommy hasn't even sent that much money in the time you've been talking to him. But you can't slip up in front of Joel. He's a professional, and you're willing to bet he can smell bullshit from ten miles away.

"Tempting offer," you murmur. "But I'm worth more."

Your resilience is getting to him. You can tell by the way he leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He looks constipated and you stifle a laugh at the thought. You doubt such a man even has time to attend nature's calls when he's always on the phone about some business emergency or another.

"You're fucking with me," he says quietly. Maybe it's your wild imagination that gleans a bit of respect in his gaze.

"I absolutely am not. I never would." You handle your flatware with precision as you dive into your Eggs Florentine. "I don't joke about money, Mr. Miller."

"You're so serious about financial matters. Enlighten me. What do you do with each dollar my brother sends you?"

You shrug. "I'm building a stock portfolio."

Joel mishandles his fork, nearly dropping it as it clatters off his plate, but he catches it just in time before it falls to the floor. "You? Really?"

"I didn't grow up with money like you did," you tell him, deciding once and for all to be frank with him. Maybe it'll get him to stop pestering you about catfishing Tommy. "My dad left when I was little, my mom worked multiple jobs to put me through college. I pay off every loan she's ever given me. Your money is paying off my student loans, investing in my own career path.. and fianancing my divorce." You take a moment to let your words sink into Joel's brain in as you take a bite of your eggs.

"What did you go to school for?"

"Fashion. And a minor in business."

"You graduated?"

"Of course," you bristle at the thought that he thinks so lowly of you. "Eventually."

"What's your business plan?"

"Fashion, of course. I plan to open a boutique and sell my own designs."

"You design?" He looks intrigued.

You pull out your lookbook from your Isabel Marant tote and Joel takes it from you, flipping through it and studying each one. His face is unreadable.

"Not bad," he says, handing it back to you.

"There's a lack of sustainable fashion options for women who aren't size negative eight."

"You've found your niche, I see."

"That's probably as big a compliment as I'm going to get from you, isn't it?"

A pause. "And the husband?"

You shake your head. "All love ever brought to my door was heartache. I'm going after what really makes me happy."

Joel seems to ruminate over this, his own food growing cold. You wonder if he ever even eats with the schedule he has. "I didn't grow up with money either," he quietly admits.

"Yet you have more than most people would know what to do with."

"I know. We give to charities and foundations. We're not awful people just because my father made a good investment."

At least you had a father.. but you keep that thought to yourself, the tension still thick between you, like the heaviness in the air before a storm.

"Shouldn't you be on the BRAT diet after your.. illness?" Joel asks at last.

"Wow, two insults in one, huh?" You put down your fork to glare at him. "I'm not a brat and I don't need to be on a diet."

"That's not what I meant!" Joel has a hard time trying to keep a straight face. "Haven't you ever heard of the BRAT diet? After you've had a stomach bug or a hangover it's best to keep to Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast," he counts off on his fingers.

"Oh."

He takes a long sip of his ice water, watching you with an amused expression. You hate it. Or maybe you like it. Either way he has you squirming under his gaze. "What?" you ask out of exasperation.

"Nothing," he smiles, leaning back in his chair. "Just that.. you're right. You don't need to diet. A woman like you is the perfect size for anyone."

"Joel are you.. attempting to flirt with me?"

He makes an easy recovery. "I said 'women like you' not you exactly. Don't take it to heart, babygirl."

Babygirl? What the hell? You're not a teenager in pigtails and bobby socks. But you can't deny the way it sweetly twists at the pit of your stomach to be called such an endearment.

"Now, Jesse will escort you back to the hotel. I have a meeting I'm staying for."

"Killing more birds with stones, huh?" You get up with as much grace as you can muster after finding out you were just the appetizer to Joel's busy day.

"Gotta keep money in my brother's pockets.. ipso facto in yours as well." He looks up from his work with what should be a cold sneer but is met with one of your own.

"In that case I'll let you work your magic. Tell whoever this Castillo son-of-a-gun is that I give him my regards."

The ride back is a little friendlier, with Dina chatting away, her banter with Jesse undeniable. You secretly wonder if they've got a thing going, the way they tease each other. They're either very good friends or they want to fuck each other's brains out. Jesse retaliates with quick and sharp wit, a little smirk on his face as he blushes.

Stuck in traffic, you talk about how you met Tommy through Claudia (sticking to your story of course) and both listen with rapt interest. "It's not usual that Mr. Miller has guests," Jesse mentions. "Joel, I mean."

"Do you like working for him?" You're genuinely curious to know.

"He's a man that I respect," he answers. "And he's pretty good to his employees." Dina voices her agreement, adding, "He's never brought a woman around, at least not that I've known of."

"You're his driver. Does he ever go to any weird places?"

Dina laughs. "What do you mean?"

"Like.. weird sex clubs or.."

Both Dina and Jesse laugh aloud at that. "What, Joel?? No way," Dina replies. "He practically lives at the hotel. Apart from meetings and scheduled business trips across the country, he's pretty boring. Like Jesse here."

Jesse puts down his iPad and shoots her a playful glare as they pull up to the hotel's private entrance.

Before you leave the car, Jesse calls your name. "Mr. Miller would like the pleasure of your company in his luxury suite at the Knicks game this evening. He says to dress casually."

"He couldn't ask me himself?"

Jesse shrugs apologetically. "I'm just the messenger, ma'am. He's just now texted me. What answer shall I give him?"

"Uh.. tell him I'll go if he dresses casually as well."

"That might be a bit difficult to petition.."

"Tell him it's that or a no-go from me." With a smile you leave the car, hurrying up to your suite.

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dividers by @enchanthings 👑