“I love you.”
“Enough to marry me?”
Wren froze. She stared into his lagoon-blue eyes. He was serious.
“Enough to marry you.”
She was serious, too.
“Ms. Greene?Mr. Weisser will see you now.” Don Weisser’s personal secretary glanced up from her desk and smiled at Wren.
“Thank you, Cherise. And please, call me Brooke.”
Wren smiled back as she set aside the demitasse cup and saucer Cherise offered her when she walked into the suite on the top floor of Milestone, ten stories up. The espresso sat sour in her stomach as she followed the secretary down a short hallway. Her brown-colored contacts darkened the hallway a little, like sunglasses. She adjusted her wig quickly before Cherise couldsee. The borrowed black Louboutins with their five-inch stiletto heels pinched her toes but at least she didn’t wobble. She’d practiced walking in them the entire week before the meeting. They changed her gait—which Gina told her was the point.
Gina had also coached her for ten days, then declared her a natural.
Wren had a better idea now what Gina used to do for a living.
Cherise opened a door at the end of the hallway and smiled at a man sitting behind a large desk. The surface was bare except for a blotter, a laptop, and a pen set—Mont Blanc if Wren wasn’t mistaken. Don Weisser’s silhouette was dark against the brutal, late-afternoon Colorado sun shining in behind him, making Wren thankful for the contacts. His window-lined office offered three panoramic views. To his left off in the distance rose Denver’s skyscrapers. Directly behind him, planes took off and landed at a regional airport while the distant mountains looked cut from blue-grey construction paper in the summer haze. To the south stretched the high plains dotted with strip malls and subdivisions.
Cherise closed the door behind her, sealing Wren in the office with Weisser, who smiled but didn’t bother to stand.
“Impressive view,” Wren said as she took a seat.
Weisser nodded as his eyes briefly flicked to her cleavage, enhanced by a padded bra that added two cup sizes. “Ms. Greene.” He folded his hands on his desk. “I understand you represent Barbie Gillis. I’m disappointed that she couldn’t come herself.”
I’m sure you are,she thought as she studied the man. Mid-fifties, neatly-trimmed salt-and-pepper hair, manicured nails, obviously worked out regularly. A little soft around the face with the beginnings of jowls on either side of his mouth. She was surprised he hadn’t done something about that yet.
“She’s disappointed not to be here too, trust me. Making this donation is a dream come true for her. If you know anything about Barbie, she came from a hard place. Not a lot of money growing up. She nearly died from a congenital heart defect as a baby and is grateful to the hospital that saved her life, thanks to its generous charitable funds.” Wren adopted a convincingly sad smile. “Unfortunately, that hospital no longer exists.”
“Probably wiped out because of those funds they gave out.” He chuckled. “Cardiac surgery has never been cheap.”
Wren took on an equally convincing, indulgent smile that said she understood perfectly where he was coming from. “Exactly. With the sale of her cosmetics company combined with the revenue from her latest Netflix series, she’s now in a position to offer a high eight-figure donation to be made into a trust fund that would help subsidize cardiac patient bills.”
Weisser’s smile brightened. “And of course we specialize in cardiac care, so it’s a match made in heaven.”
Wren held up her hand in a not-so-fast gesture. “So, to ensure that Coloradans in need can afford quality healthcare, Ms. Gillis is sending me around to interview hospital CEOs to help her make a final decision where to donate her money.”
His sudden frown was a beautiful thing to behold. “Otherhospitals? I was not aware that Ms. Gillis was considering other places for her donation.”
Wren pursed her lips. “Oh yes. She wants to make sure the right hospital is receiving her considerable contribution.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice as if Barbie were standing close by and Wren didn’t want her to overhear. “I have to tell you, right now she’s leaning toward splitting the money between the children’s hospital and CU’s medical program, to pay off student loans.”
Weisser unfolded his hands and grabbed the Mont Blanc pen out of its old-fashioned holder. He held it in his fist with histhumb clicking the end over and over like he was pressing the button on a remote desperately trying to change the channel.
“I see. You’re here to see what Ms. Gillis gets for her money.”
“Gets for her money?” Wren played dumb.
“We’re expanding the hospital as well as adding clinics and ERs around the city. Would she like one named after her? Maybe one that specializes in pediatric services? That would be good publicity for her. Or, if she’d like, we could name the new wing after her.” He set the pen down and opened his desk drawer. “I have some architectural renderings in here I was planning on framing, but if she’d like to look them over and choose?—”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Barbie isn’t looking to put her name on anything.”
He closed the desk drawer as he looked up, confused. He picked up the pen. “I don’t understand. This is an anonymous donation?”
Wren’s lips curled into a devious smile. “Barbie Gillis didn’t get to where she is now by giving away things for free, Mr. Weisser. She made deals, both personal and for her business. She doesn’t lift a finger for someone else unless she can get a substantial return on her investment.” The lies about her sweet bestie tasted bitter in Wren’s mouth.
Weisser took the bait. “Kudos to her PR team then. She comes across as an angel.”
