The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three, page 8
He realized he was staring.
Amber smirked. “Speaking of watching …”
Rym scowled. “Send him in,” he told Rebecca. What started out as teasing had quickly hit too close to home.
***
Turned out, asking his secretary for something was the easiest part of Rym’s day. By noon, his head was spinning. Every hour on the hour, a new department head appeared at his door with a binder full of information, a PowerPoint presentation, and some sort of request.
Human Resources wanted to hire, Marketing wanted a bigger budget, Guest Services wanted two more luxury vehicles to use as shuttles, and he was sure the list would continue after lunch.
Rym’s first instinct was to give everyone what they wanted. After he’d told Vanessa from Human Resources to go ahead and place an ad for a new employee, Amber put her hand on his knee and shook her head. She waited until Vanessa left before reminding him, “Today is about gathering information. The next time someone asks for something, tell them you’ll look into it.”
He started to protest.
Amber held up her hand. “Hiring a new employee costs, on average, three thousand dollars. Then you add their salary and employee taxes, health insurance costs, and so on. It adds up fast. The next thing you know, you’ve spent sixty to eighty thousand dollars.”
Rym scrubbed at his beard. “I hate that I don’t know this stuff.” He got up and paced the room. “And, no offense, but I don’t like having you hanging over my shoulder like I can’t tie my shoes on my own.”
Amber looked pained. “This isn’t easy for me, either.”
“Are you kidding? You’re in your element. You have a new husband who obviously needs a lot of work, and my grandpa gave you babysitting privileges.”
“Babysitting? Is that what you think I’m doing?” She crossed the room and shut the heavy wooden doors.
Rym’s voice had gotten louder, but he just couldn’t stop now that the release button had been pressed. “I can’t even have breakfast without you trying to feed me.” Rym threw his hands in the air. “Did you force-feed all your husbands, or am I just a special case?”
Amber’s cheeks flushed. She put one hand on her hip. “When I married Braden, he lived off greasy hamburgers and French fries. Not a smart move for a heart surgeon.
“Jeremy was the skinniest guy in the major leagues and he desperately needed to build lean muscle. I fed him into the body he has today, which is hopefully strong enough to withstand an injury.
“And you, you live off soup and cereal. You don’t put enough nutrients into your body to ski well, let alone think straight.” She wrenched open the door. “And for your information, none of my husbands found any reason to pass up my blueberry pancakes.”
She stormed out, and Rym barely had a moment to realize he’d gotten under Amber’s skin before Mom rushed in.
“Was that her?”
Rym dropped to his seat. “Yes.”
“She’s a real piece of work.”
Rym rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. That comment about all her husbands was low. “I think I deserved that.” He made a face. Who knew a woman could get so worked up about pancakes? The way she stormed out, and the wounded look in her eyes, made him think she was upset about something more than pancakes. He didn’t feel like going after Amber was a good idea. And now that his mom was here … Wait … “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how things were going.” She looked over her shoulder at the door. “I guess I know. What are the grounds for divorce in that prenup of yours?”
“Mom.” Rym rounded the desk and took his seat. “One fight does not warrant a divorce.” He threw his hands in the air. “It wasn’t even a fight.” Not really. He looked at his palms.
Mother leaned over the desk, a wickedly happy look in her eye. “What about an annulment?”
“Mom, I know this is hard for you, but I’ve committed to this marriage … and the job.”
Sighing heavily, Mom fell into a chair.
Rym pressed his fingertips together. “What’s going on?”
Mother pressed her hands against the armrests. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
“I’ve thought the same thing a hundred times in the last week. But this place … I can’t let it become like the other resorts that only care about the bottom line. They cut costs in the kitchens, in employee benefits, and in other areas that matter to the people here.”
“I wasn’t talking about the company. I’m talking about her.”
Rym clenched his fist. His feelings about Amber were all in a jumble. Every time he turned around he was experiencing a new emotion. One minute he’d feel like she was bossing him around, and the next he’d find himself checking out her shapely legs in those tight black pants she wore today. “You haven’t even met her, Mom.”
Mother waved her hand. “What I mean is, your father and I didn’t set a great example for a happily married couple. I’m worried that we screwed you up.”
Rym jolted back against his seat. “Screwed me up?”
Mom nodded, tears forming.
Rym swiped a tissue from the box in his bottom drawer and handed it to her.
“It’s just … I don’t know anyone who would willingly sign up for an arranged marriage. It’s such a gamble.” She sniffed and then wiped her eyes. “Marriage is hard enough when two people want to be together.”
Rym picked up one of the pens on his desk and rolled it between his fingers. “I see where you’re coming from, I really do. But I’m not playing the odds. There aren’t any odds to play. I’ll be married for a year, and boom! I’m out.”
Mom blew her nose before she spoke. “You’re already fighting. If this is what it’s like after one day, what will it be like in a month? Or six months? I can’t stand to see you that miserable.”
“I can do anything for a year.” Rym placed the pen back on the desk and his eyes fell on the Human Resources folder. A sense of pride filled his chest. “Besides, Amber knows more about running this company than I do. And …” Rym paused, shocked at his next thought. “She’s the only one who I know, I know, is here to help me succeed.” He couldn’t even count on his old buddies anymore. Finlay had proven that when he took Rym’s money without a thought. It reminded Rym of his father’s the world owes me attitude, and it grated on him.
Mom stayed for a few more minutes, and then had to get back to her job. Rym hurried to the employee cafeteria to grab something to eat. As he stood in line, he thought about what Amber had said about his eating habits. Perhaps he could use more veggies in his diet. Instead of ordering his customary chicken noodle soup, he chose a premade salad with sliced beef tenders and feta cheese. Sitting at a table for two, Rym didn’t notice his ski buddy and old roommate, Finn, until he was sitting across from him.
“Lookie lookie.” Finlay grinned as he reached across the table and punched Rym in the shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you down here slummin’ with the hired help.”
Rym rolled his eyes. “How’s it going?”
“Same old, same old. Slave like a dog all day.” He gestured to his company-issued coat and pants. “And then scrounge around for scraps to live on.” Finlay looked at Rym’s plate. “Although I can see you don’t have that problem anymore.”
Rym shrugged, feeling uncomfortable with the edge in Finlay’s voice. “It’s just a salad.”
“You’re right. It’s just a salad. How about buying me one?” Finlay challenged. And it was a challenge, not a polite request. Finlay seemed to ask, Are you still one of us? There had been times when Rym or Finlay had had a bad day with clients and the tips were scarce. They covered for one another then. Surely Rym could cover for Finlay today. There was no harm in that.
“I’d be happy to.” Rym reached for his wallet.
“Ya know, that cheesecake looks pretty good too. Have you tried it lately? They have this new strawberry sauce instead of the old cherry sauce.” Finlay rubbed his belly.
Rym laughed. “Get a cheesecake too.” He handed Finn a fifty dollar bill and waited for him to go through the line and come back to sit down and share the meal. They ate in silence for a few seconds.
Sharing a meal with a friend was exactly what Rym needed to relax. They could talk about the same old stuff and share a laugh, and for a moment Rym could pretend nothing had changed. Relaxing for the first time in weeks, Rym enjoyed his food. “How’s the ski school?” he asked.
Finlay made a face. “I haven’t had a private lesson yet this month.”
Most instructors taught group lessons. The tips weren’t great, but they were better than the ones Rym got for waiting tables. Private lessons, on the other hand, could be lucrative. It wasn’t uncommon to get two-to three-hundred-dollar-a-day tips for private lessons. Unless requested, instructors were placed on a rotating schedule for private lessons.
“I’m sure you’ll get one soon.”
“Maybe you could bump me up the list?”
Rym’s salad rolled around in his stomach. “I’m not over the rotation.”
“I’m sure you could make a phone call.” Finlay winked.
Rym shook his head. He knew all too well that waiting for his turn to come up had been hard, but he also knew he had to wait his turn. Every instructor deserved an equal chance. “I don’t think it’s my call to make.”
“What are you talking about?” Finlay threw his arms out, his words filling their area, causing people’s heads to turn. “This whole place is your call.”
Rym ducked his head. “Hey, chill,” he whispered.
“All right, all right.” Finlay hunched over his food. “If you won’t help me out with rotation, can you spot me some rent money? I mean, it’s not like you’ll miss it. Am I right?”
Though Finlay had a smile on his face, Rym didn’t feel at all friendly towards him. Reaching for his wallet once again, Rym pulled out a hundred dollars. Feeling dirty and used, he set the money on the table and stood to leave.
“Hey, man, I really appreciate it,” said Finlay as the money disappeared inside his coat.
“Yeah. I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you around.”
“Hopefully.” Finlay patted his coat, where the money had gone. “It’s good to have friends in high places, man.”
Rym waved as he turned to leave, hurrying from the cafeteria, vowing never to set foot in it again. He’d hoped having money hadn’t changed him, but it had changed those around him. Not his mom; she was the same as always. The managers treated him differently, but he’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was to be fleeced by one of his friends—or someone he’d considered a friend. It wasn’t until he crossed the lobby that he realized Finlay had kept the change from lunch as well.
The thing was, if the situation had been reversed, Rym would never have done that to Finlay. He hung his head. It was just like at the bank. Someone assumed they had a right to Rym’s money just because he happened to have a lot of it. Not that he wouldn’t like to spend it on his friends. He glanced back the way he’d come. Determining who was a friend and who wasn’t could be costly. If Amber had been with him, she would have known exactly what to say to Finlay. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Amber’s experience and knowledge.
Rym’s stomach churned on the way back up to his office. He was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the salad and a lot to do with the idea of eating crow in front of Amber.
Chapter 10
Amber paced in the women’s lounge off the ladies’ room, her shoes clicking on the tile floor. Women clomped in and out in their ski boots. Most of them had smiles. They used everything offered by the resort, from the complimentary tissues to the jars of lotion. It was all part of the pampered feeling Iron Mountain strove to provide for their guests.
Amber squirted lotion onto her palm and lifted it to her nose. There was no scent. As she spread it over her hands, she realized it was probably a no-name brand. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Iron Mountain was the only resort in Park City that offered lotion in the washrooms. She didn’t hear one person complain that the lotion was cheap. Looking at the heavy yet beautiful clay dispenser, she nodded. It was all in the image.
And what image had she portrayed to Rym? Not the image of a professional, that was for sure. He’d thrown her off with his teasing comments. She hadn’t expected his smile to warm her from her belly out, and she definitely hadn’t expected to enjoy flirting with him the way she had. Because she’d relaxed, she wasn’t ready when his comment about babysitting flew her direction. If she hadn’t been happily losing herself in Rym’s blue eyes, then she would have had a level head and been able to keep her cool.
Her phone beeped, and Amber sighed before checking it. It was Trish letting her know that her flight was on schedule and she’d be there in time for dinner on Thursday.
Thank goodness! Amber could use a girls’ night. She texted Trish the address for a restaurant not affiliated with Iron Mountain. She needed some space, too. Space from work and from Rym, although why she bothered to differentiate between the two bothered her. Rym should be work.
Her phone beeped; this time it was the alarm she’d set so she wouldn’t be late getting back for her and Rym’s next appointment. She quickly dabbed on some lip gloss and headed back up the stairs. No more flirting. From now on, she was Mrs. Professional.
Chapter 11
A couple days later, Amber sifted through the racks of clothing at the boutique Trish insisted they visit first. The styles were fine, loose-fitting tops and tight-fitting bottoms with a few bohemian skirts thrown in here and there. But the colors were muted.
A raspberry something caught her eye and she beelined for it, grabbing the hanger at the same time as Trish. They laughed. “Great minds …” said Trish.
The “something” turned out to be a cowl neck sweater.
“Oh, I love the cable-knit design.” Trish rubbed the sleeve between two fingers. “It’s as soft as mink.”
“I’ll be right back.” Amber smiled and made her way to the small dressing room. She grabbed insulated leggings to try on with the oversized sweater. The sweater was gorgeous. And it fit beautifully. She stepped out to show Trish.
“Do you think it’s warm enough?” asked Amber. She’d been cold since the moment she arrived, and the way the material hung left exposed skin.
“It should be fine.” Trish waved off her concern.
Amber ducked back in the dressing room to try on two more tops. One was a heavier fabric with sheer, long-sleeved arms and the other was a turtleneck made from thin material. Both looked great, but Amber worried she’d still be cold.
“I met with Rym this morning and gave him an orientation,” Trish said through the door.
Amber cringed. “How did it go?”
“He’s a bit of a maverick, isn’t he?”
Amber yanked the door open and smirked. “That’s putting it mildly.” She fiddled with the hook on the hanger, twirling it around with her finger. BMB brides and grooms were held to the same standards. They were expected to take care of themselves through proper diet and exercise, refrain from excessive use of alcohol and any use of drugs, and they couldn’t smoke. She hadn’t smelled cigarette smoke on Rym, so that shouldn’t have been a problem. She also hadn’t seen him touch a drop of alcohol in the thirty-six hours they’d been married. However, he had thrown a fit when she tried to make pancakes for him. She could only imagine the reaction he’d have to a proper workout schedule. “Did he … Was he upset?”
“Weeeeeeell.” Trish turned and led the way to the cash register. “We compromised on a couple things.”
Amber’s curiosity was piqued. “Like what?” She placed the clothing on the counter and smiled at the sales clerk, who was helping another customer. He nodded to let her know he’d be right there.
“Like having a personal trainer.”
Amber rolled her eyes. Of course Rym wouldn’t want a trainer. He could barely stand listening to her saving him thirty thousand dollars. There was no way he’d put up with a guy telling him to drop and give him twenty.
“Instead, we agreed that private skiing lessons would fulfill the requirement. Plus, he’d still like to ski several times a week. So I figured he’d be getting plenty of exercise.”
“Yeah, and using up every measly calorie he consumes.”
Trish’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted. “I noticed he was kind of thin. He won’t eat? Do we need to get him to a counselor or something?”
How much could she say without sharing too much of Rym’s personal information? Surely he didn’t want the staff at BMB to know his life story. “He eats like a guy. Whatever’s easiest.”
“I’m sure you’ll cure him of that soon enough.”
Amber thought of the fresh crepes she’d made this morning along with sliced strawberries, blueberries, and homemade whipped cream, that ended up in the trash because Rym stubbornly ate his cereal. For the first time in her career as a BMB bride, Amber doubted her abilities. Usually by the second day, she had her husbands … not eating out of her hand, but at least eating out of her oven. Amber’s eyes stung, and she was afraid she’d become emotional.
Trish laid a hand on Amber’s arm and asked, “What’s the matter?”
Amber gave her a small smile. “Maybe you should have married Rym. I can’t get him to compromise on anything.”
Trish’s hand squeezed tighter around Amber’s arm. “Anything?”
Amber shook her head. “I feel like there’s always a storm brewing between us, and all it takes is one wrong step and he digs into the trenches.”
“You guys are fighting?”
“Yes.” Amber shook her head. “No.” She shook her head again and began counting on her fingers. “At the bank, the grocery store, breakfast, his office—he doesn’t want me here.” She sniffed.
Trish pulled Amber away from the counter and into the racks of clothing where there were fewer prying eyes. She put her arm around Amber’s shoulders. “I don’t think it’s you, sweetie, I think it’s him.”
