Chapter 0006

Unfortunately, Poppy is out with her friends and won't be able to assist me in getting ready for the night, so I'm on my own.

I still have the rest of the afternoon, but if I do it alone, I won't have any time. I start going through my closet, seeking for the perfect outfit, or anything close enough.

After considerable thought, I opted on a mid-length black tulle skirt and a white top. It's possibly not elegant enough, so I decided to be daring and wear a pair of high-heeled boots with it.

Now that that's out of the way, I spend an hour on my makeup, which I have to redo twice because it doesn't work out the way I want it to. I'm nervous, and my hands are shaking while I apply my mascara. I know nothing about this guy, yet I've agreed to go on a date with him. It would be less frightening if it were just a blind date arranged by a friend, but this feels like a job interview and a date rolled into one.

If this date goes well, this guy will essentially be renting me out as his girlfriend for who knows how long. This is by far the strangest and most uncomfortable position I've ever been in, and if it doesn't go well, I'll have to do it all over again with a completely new man.

If I didn't need the money so badly, I'd cancel and hide under my bed for three days until the embarrassment of even thinking about doing something like this washed away.

I put on my boots and jump out of my skin as I hear a hard banging at my door. I check my phone, it's 6:45pm. My stomach drops as I move nervously over to the door and open it. What in the world is this?

"Good evening, Miss. My name is Ambrose, and I work as Mr Whitlock's personal driver." "I'll be taking you to meet him; are you ready?" I breathe a sigh of relief; for a little minute, I believed I'd been seriously catfished.

This man is substantially older than the photo I was shown; he's balding, and his nose occupies over half of his face. I nod and grin as I take my bag from the table and walk out the door, shutting the door behind me and following him down the stairs. We walk silently as he walks me to a large black automobile and unlocks the rear seat door for me.

I slide in and fasten my seat belt, taking in the car's interior. He takes amazing care of this car; there isn't a speck of dirt or crumbs in the entire back seat.

"Any music ma'am?" I shake my head as Ambrose reverses the car out of the parking lot.

"No, and you can call me Amelia," I say gently, since hearing him call me "miss" or "ma'am" just feels weird.

"I'm not allowed to be so casual with you ma'am, it's in my contract," he says, yet I can detect a faint smile on his thin serious lips. I'm curious if it's in my contract as well.

I sink into my seat and take in the sights of the inner city. I feel very out of place in this car with a formal driver on my way to a date with a millionaire; I should be out there, going to the bus stop, or eating leftover takeout at home.

A new surge of nerves washes over me as we drove through the downtown streets, sure to pull up outside one of his hotels at any moment. What kind of conversation would you have with a millionaire? What are we even going to talk about?

"We're here, ma'am," Ambrose announces as he drives into the valet area of a very posh hotel. I recall Lory telling me he owns hotels, but I had no idea they were this opulent. A well-dressed valet and Ambrose arrive at my door and open it for me, while Ambrose offers his hand to assist me in climbing out. I accept it and plant my feet on the ground before turning to thank the valet and following Ambrose inside the hotel.

I feel even more out of place in the hotel lobby than I did in the automobile. A magnificent crystal chandelier adorns the marble floor, and a big staircase stands directly in front of me. To the side of it is a bank of slick black elevators, with men in suits waiting to hit the button for you. Ambrose leads me down a long corridor to a darkly lit bar and restaurant area brimming with fresh flowers and people dressed up. Soft piano music fills my ears as a man sits at a black grand piano to my right; though he isn't drawing the throng he should, his playing is exceptional.

"This way, ma'am," Ambrose says as he brings me to a secluded corner of the restaurant where I notice him sitting at a table for two, going over some documents with a pen in hand and a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. A well-dressed woman with a pencil skirt waits for him. As we approach, he scribbles something down and talks softly but forcefully to the woman.

"Of course, I wanted this done last week, but no worries; make sure we have it ready by Friday in time for the event," he says as he passes the documents to the woman without looking up.

"Of course, Mr Whitlock, my apologies" She takes the pages from them and rushes by us, her eyes filled with worry and despair.

"Mr Whitlock" Ambrose clasps his hands in front of him and waits.

"Miss Amelia Kendrick," he says, and Rhodes finally glances up from his phone, first looking at Ambrose for a while before returning his gaze to me. Ambrose pulls out the seat opposite Rhodes for me, and I sit down, placing my bag on the back of my chair.

"Thank you, Ambrose," Rhodes says without glancing at him, his gaze fixed on me and a sweet grin on his plump lips. Thank goodness he looks like his photo; he's pretty handsome and doesn't appear to be that old.

"Anything you need me to do Mr Whitlock?" Ambrose inquires as he assists me in sliding my chair in. Rhodes finally raises his head to address him straight.

"Get in touch with Simon; we've got some business in Seattle that I need to arrange in the next three days." I'll also need you to take Amelia home after we're done here." I take advantage of the distraction to regulate my breathing, try to relax into my seat, and give myself a pep talk.