If The Shoe Fits (Some Girls Do It Book 8) Read online

  The next hour was a blur of admin tasks. Verona Dallas, a well-to-do socialite, came up to chat with her unexpectedly. She bought as much as the Chanel and Dior team every quarter, so it was her prerogative. Helene was glad for the excuse to catch a break. They had tea in an elegant client lounge, and chatted about Verona's nonexistent skin issues. At forty-seven, the woman didn't look a day over thirty-five. Having money meant being able to afford the best skin care, the best food, and personal trainers that kept her young and beautiful. Helene wasn't about to tell her that she didn't need any wrinkle treatments. Instead, she invoiced her for four figures of cream.

  Verona wanted something fresh today. Clients like her could have a special batch of product made, with slight tweaks to fit their fancy.

  "How about changing your usual scent?" Helene suggested. "Something a little more woodsy, perhaps, for the fall and winter months?"

  Verona's face lit up. "Surprise me, dear. You always do wonders."

  Helene smiled. "Hardly. I don't make the products, Ms. Dallas, I just tell you what we have available."

  The socialite shook her head. "No, Helene. You are no mere salesman. I come to you because you give me something more. You listen without judgment, though my issues may seem trite."

  Helene took a moment to think it through. "Your life is fascinating to me," she admitted. "And issues are issues. Your concerns aren’t any less valid than anyone else's."

  True, she would certainly prefer to worry about wrinkles than having to find a place to live on her salary, but Verona was a kind lady who didn't mean any harm.

  "Thank you, dear. I'll let you get back to work. Send me the invoice when you're ready."

  She was glad to have a reason to head to the lab, rather than return at her desk. Placing her order for Verona, she found Emily in her lab coat, her huge glasses taking over most of her face.

  "Woodsy?" Emily repeated.

  Helene nodded. "Yeah, you know. Something more wintery. Dark, musky, with wood and maybe leather tones."

  The woman lit up. "That might be a great idea, actually. We could play on that and make it a Christmas batch. We're already tested most of the tones I'll need, but if we're mixing something new, I'd feel better if it went to trial first."

  Helene nodded. "We wouldn't want Verona to have skin problems, that's for sure."

  Emily laughed. "We might as well lock down the doors if we mess with her skin. I'll have it done by the end of the week, tested in lab within the next couple of weeks, then we can move to human trials. Do you think she'll mind a month’s delay?"

  "No, she knows the deal. If she changes the formula, we need one or two months. Put me down for the trial, if you'd like!" Helene often volunteered.

  Their base formula underwent longer tests, over the course of months or even years, but for smaller tweaks in scents, using ingredients they'd already tried, it wasn't much of a risk. And she could always use the thousand-buck bonus that went with trials. Especially now.

  "You're a sweetheart, Helene. By the way, do you want the new makeup palette?" Emily was very generous with freebies.

  Eagerly, she made her way to the display her boss was motioning to. In a rose gold box with a black bow, the metallic eye shadow palette with six colors made her squeal. "These are so nice! Are they for Fashion Week?"

  Emily nodded. "Yep, we just got it from production. I'm happy with the packaging. A few stores want them, too, but they'll have to wait until after Fashion Week. I'm not sure I want to produce more than what we have. They need be exclusive and limited."

  Helene grinned. Whatever her parents said, her job was amazing. "Can I take one for my sister, too?"

  Emily shrugged. "Sure thing. Just don't tell Carrie. I only let her take one."

  Carrie, her boss, didn't get along with Emily well, from what Helene could tell, but she wasn't about to fire her—they were cousins. The Vandorfs liked to keep things in the family.

  "You're the best, Emily."

  She truly was. Unfortunately, Emily seldom stepped outside of the lab, leaving the running of Bijoux Skin to Carrie, who had every intention of keeping Helene where she was, in a dead-end career.

  Cade

  Cade lived by few rules. One of the most important was to always ensure he was out of the house when his sister was throwing a girls’ night in with her pals.

  He’d messed up, big time. He would have sworn they were supposed to invade his sanctuary on Saturday, but here they were, lounging on his Fendi couch, and sipping flute after flute of Krug.

  “I’m not sure who decided being skinny is glamorous. Let’s face it, we all eat, and it has to go somewhere. If you’re a size two, it just means you poop a lot.” Richelle caught his eye over her champagne, and grinned. The brat knew just what kind of torture their inane conversations put him through.

  Half an hour. Half an hour, and he’d be out of here. He was supposed to video conference with his business partner, James Montgomery, who was currently analyzing a potential expansion site in Australia. James was fourteen hours ahead, so they’d scheduled their call at nine.

  Cade liked to spend as little time as possible in the office. His state-of-the-art penthouse was perfectly designed to optimize his work day.

  At least, when Richelle wasn’t crashing there, after yet another separation with her latest husband.

  “Tut tut. None of that. We don’t use the P-word in relation to ladies. We say we have a fast metabolism instead.” Her friend, Xue, was considerably less of a brat than his sister, but once they were tipsy, these ladies were terrors.

  Fuck it. He was going to call James early.

  “If you’d excuse me, ladies. Work beckons.” He got to his feet. “You know where the cellar is.”

  “Work always beckons you, Cade,” Richelle shot back. “Be careful or you’ll end up bald, like Dad. All work and no play make Cade a dull, prematurely graying boy.”

  He raised his middle finger, making the four girls giggle as he left the room.

  He knew she wasn’t entirely mistaken, though. Cade grew up with a tight-knit group of friends, between the Upper East Side during the school year and the Hamptons in the summer, and he knew none of the other guys would have complained about having these women around. His sister aside, they were all highly attractive. Xue Wilcox had her mother’s classical beauty—long straight hair, dark, mesmerizing eyes, and perfect bone structure. She was as tall as her American father, making her a striking bombshell. Brooke Evans, an up-and-coming artist, rocked a short leather skirt and bloodred lips against a platinum bob. Her endless lashes and dark blue eyes would have made any man pause. Then there was Pen. As in Penelope Abbot, the girl everyone wanted and no one could even dream of. She’d been taken before she could spell her name. Betrothed or not, the brunette was gorgeous.

  The others—Archer, Kenneth, David—would have at least tried to chat them up, regardless of the fact that Pen was off limits. Not Cade. He had no interest in any of the women he knew. He wanted something else—something more. Richelle ended up marrying three guys from their extended circle, and those relationships had been a stupid joke. They could barely even stand to be in the same house for more than a few hours. Sure, their combined assets exceeded that of a small country, but why would that matter? He had enough money. If he ever attempted to have a relationship, it would be with someone whose company he genuinely enjoyed. In the meantime, he stuck to shallow hookups. And Cade knew better than to go there with his sister’s friends.

  He didn't know why, but his mind went back to the girl—the one he'd seen in the elevator at Vandorf, Inc. earlier that week. It had wandered to her more times than he cared to admit. Not that he didn't understand the appeal. Long dark hair, bright green eyes, and a mouth made for sin. She was a knockout. But Cade frequently enjoyed the company of top models. It was hardly the first time he'd encountered a pretty girl. Still, she stayed with him. Perhaps his fascination had something to do with the way she’d looked at him, her every thought written
on her features. Shock, and unadorned bewilderment, as though he confounded her. Then, she’d blushed, like an ingenue. Cade didn’t meet many women who still blushed after nothing more than a glance. His circle was made up of perfectly behaved socialites who never showed any true feeling, unless they saw an advantage to it.

  Chasing thoughts of the girl he didn’t know away, he locked himself in his office, heading to a cabinet to retrieve a tumbler and a bottle of scotch before circling the sculptural desk he hated.

  The thing was asymmetrical, made of carved stone and glass. He never had enough room for his files. He knew he had to change it—this desk was the one blemish in a flawless, perfectly designed apartment—but he couldn’t bring himself to throw out one of his sister’s presents.

  He was a sucker for his kid sister, shallow as she could be.

  He logged into the secure network, and started the call. He wasn’t that early by now—just about twenty minutes.

  Before the end of the first ring, James’s face appeared on his screen.

  “Didn’t we say you’d call at eleven?”

  Cade grimaced. “Richelle’s here with the girls.”

  James’s blue eyes flashed with a sudden interest. “Ah. I take it my fiancée’s well?”

  Cade tried not to laugh, but James’s situation never failed to amuse him.

  As long as Cade could remember, James had been fascinated by Pen. And Pen? Well, as a girl, she used to write their names at the corner of each of her notebook and sigh dreamily.

  Then he ruined it. Now, he wanted her back. Good luck to him. She wanted nothing to do with him. The only reason she was still betrothed to him was some archaic contractual bullshit between their families.

  “As far as I can tell. I hear her new gallery was a success. She sold several of Brooke’s paintings.”

  “I know.”

  Cade grinned, without adding anything. He didn’t doubt that James had bought several art pieces, or maybe even attended the opening.

  Rather than torture the poor man, he switched gears, moving on to business. “How’s the site?”

  “A mess. There are health hazards, it was literally on fire a few months ago, and a few hippies want it to save kangaroos or something. On the flip side, it’s cheap. Might be worth the hassle, but it’d take hands-on management.” James scratched his chin. He looked reluctant.

  Cade could guess why. Leaving for a week or two in order to oversee a project was different from moving to the other side of the globe for an extended period of time. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated—he’d done it plenty of times—but now that Pen was back in the States, things had changed for the poor guy.

  “Hey, I can always do it.”

  James’s eyebrows reached his hairline. “You would? I thought you were married to your townhouse.”

  Cade rolled his eyes. He did like his home more than the office, but that didn’t mean that he would mind traveling. “Whatever. If you think it’s worth it, I can do a stint abroad for a while.”

  James paused. “I hadn’t considered you’d be willing to do that. If you’re serious, that changes the game.”

  Cade considered it for a moment. He’d made the offer too fast, without thinking about the implications. Then he nodded, slowly. He didn’t have much pinning him to the city. He loved New York, and he liked being close to Richelle, but his sister was a twenty-nine-year-old heiress. She could sort herself out. “I’ll do it.”

  “All right, then I’ll put in an offer. Things might move fast from this point. Will you be ready to come here in a month or so?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  The beauty of having no wife, children, or pets to think of was that he could leave tomorrow, if the need arose.

  “Perfect. Anything to report stateside?”

  “The board met last week. They’re pleased with the quarterly report, and excited about expanding. Nothing exciting here.”

  James chuckled. “That’s because you need to get out more. Speaking of, are you free tomorrow?”

  Cade sipped his scotch, and grimaced. He should get some ice in his office. “Why, are you inviting me on a date? I don’t swing that way, Montgomery.”

  “You couldn’t handle me. Anyway, Harris is throwing a charity benefit. I was going to attend, but if I’m staying here to finish the sale, can you swing by?”

  “Harris…” Cade scanned through the few names he knew around the city. “Carter Harris? Harris Toys?” He frowned.

  Their company built innovative chips to run cutting-edge robotic interfaces—they weren’t in bed with Carter Harris. It wasn’t like James to pay attention to any benefit that wasn’t directly related to their company.

  “He’s close to Slade Tech.”

  Ah, that explained it. William Slade was one of their competitors, but so far, they’d stayed out of each other’s way. Slade was interested in computers, houseware robotics, and other smaller games, while they worked on spacecraft and deep-sea mechanics. Still, they should try to sit down with Slade someday. Scratch each other’s back, and ensure they stayed in their respective lanes.

  “I can make it. Forward me the invite.”

  “I’ll have my assistant RSVP for you.” James hesitated. “Keep an eye on Pen, will you?”

  Cade snorted. “Me, and the roster of Knight Security you hired to watch her back.”

  “A man does what he needs to do.” James grinned, unapologetic as ever, before cutting the call short.

  Cade laid back on his chair, and closed his eyes.

  If there was one thing he hated more than his sister’s girls’ night in, it was charity benefits.

  Helene

  Helene's life might be a complete and utter disaster, but it certainly didn't look like it right now. The full-length mirror in her sister's guest bedroom reflected the image of a poised brunette wrapped in an overpriced royal blue dress that pooled at her ankles. The slit on her left leg revealed a peek of the most expensive pair of shoes she'd ever been perched on. She was lucky to be Cassie's size. Her sister's makeup artist had cut an inch or two of Helene's hair, removing the singed bits and managing to give her hair a bit of bounce. She was homeless, and she'd never looked better.

  She fussed with the slit, attempting to hide her leg a little more.

  "This dress was made for you. You should keep it!" Cassie walked in with a neatly wrapped present. "This was for your birthday. You can have it a few weeks early."

  Helene tried not to groan, and failed. "I hate being a charity case."

  She'd had a shitty week, with all the stress that came with house hunting on a small budget in New York City on top of her usual workload. Finally, she'd come to the conclusion that accepting her sister's help for a little while longer was her only realistic option. If she stayed here for a month or two, she could save up enough cash for a decent deposit. She'd only relented because she could tell, after just a week, that she truly wasn't a bother. Her room was on a different side of the house than Cassie and Carter's. She didn't even hear them use the shower. Or, God forbid, do something a little more intimate.

  Cassie spent a fair amount of time at home, as she worked in her office on the upper floor, but most evenings, by the time Helene came back from work, the couple had social engagements. The only time they saw each other was at breakfast, after which Carter made a point of dropping Helene off on his way to work.

  She'd accepted the help. That didn't mean she liked it.

  "You're not a charity case. You're my sister. Now, open!"

  She tossed her the small box. Helene pouted, but she did as she was told. "Fine, but that means no present on my actual birthday," she insisted.

  Cassie made a noncommittal sound that clearly meant she'd ignore it.

  Inside the neatly wrapped package, there was a boxed perfume. Helene grinned at her sister.

  "I know you wear that other one—the one that often goes on sale—every day, but you prefer this one, right?" Could Cassie be any more pe
rfect?

  "Miss Dior is my favorite." Cassie was right: Helene used a cheaper brand every day, and saved this one for special occasions. She'd run out mouths ago. "Thank you."

  She would have felt strange wearing this gorgeous dress worth more than her yearly salary without smelling right. Helene unwrapped the pink and white box, and applied the perfume to her wrists and lower back. She inhaled deep, and found some of her nervousness dissipating. The sweet, floral scent had always managed to make her feel confident and sophisticated.

  "So, what's this party for again?"

  "It's a benefit," Cassie corrected. "A lot of people lost their jobs last year, and given the financial climate, Carter thinks things aren't going to get any better for them. Carter thought it was time to get some of his acquaintances to lighten their wallets. The money will be going directly to families who were affected by the layoffs in the city."

  That sounded like a worthy cause. "Well, my wallet doesn't have much in it. I should go to a friend's tonight, get out of your hair."

  "No way!" Cassie opened her big, bright blue puppy dog eyes wide. "Don't leave me alone with the vultures! There always are tons of older women who are downright nasty at these things. You can protect me."

  Helene didn't believe a word of it. "If anyone was nasty to you, Carter would kick their ass and ban them from setting foot in the city ever again."

  Cassie laughed. "Fair point. But it's a different kind of nasty. You know, backhanded compliments, that sort of thing. Normally, Lucy Johnson keeps them in line, but she can't come tonight. Please, stay."

  How could she refuse? "Fine." She was the big sister. Getting in the face of anyone who dared bully Cassie was her job.

  "And you could auction a dance. I bet the old geezers would spend a fortune to waltz with you." Cassie's eyes were bright with mischief.