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

  Good thing she didn't have to.

  "One million going once. Going twice. And sold, to Mr. Lawson. Next, we have…" As the auctioneer carried on, Helene walked off the dais, joining Cassie, who was beaming from the side lines.

  Amy, a black beauty Helene had seen once or twice, advanced as she stepped out.

  "Good luck," Helene said, passing her by.

  Amy smiled back at her, and walked the platform with the confidence of a goddess. If anyone could be worth millions, it was her.

  "Oh my God!" Cassie squeezed Helene tight. "A million dollars, Helene!"

  She chuckled, hugging her sister back. "Same to you, I guess."

  "Yeah, but only because Carter and Liam had a pissing contest. That doesn't count."

  "I think Mr. Lawson was probably just joining the pissing contest." She rolled her eyes. "These people are crazy."

  And by these people, Helene realized she had to include her sister and her husband, as much as she loved them.

  "Tell me about it. At least, you won't end up with Craig Thwayn. That guy has never heard of deodorant. I don't know Cade Lawson well, but he's been charming whenever we've met. And he's more than a little easy on the eyes." Cassie wiggled an eyebrow suggestively.

  Helene twisted her neck, curious now. She hadn't even entertained the possibility that the guys bidding on her could have been hot. If they were, why wouldn't they just ask her to dance?

  Then again, both of Cassie's suitors had been attractive--although one was her husband and the other, a well-known married businessman.

  "Oh? Which one is he?" she asked, scanning the crowd.

  Almost immediately her eyes fell on him.

  Him.

  Helene's jaw fell open. The man from the elevator. The hot Viking, with his longish hair and deep, dark eyes. He was even more striking than she remembered.

  No, it couldn't be possible. That simply couldn't be the man who'd thrown out a million freaking dollars to dance with her. Life just didn't work that way. Not hers, in any case. But he kept walking. Toward her.

  Helene was vaguely conscious of Cassie prattling on about one thing or another, but her attention was entirely focused on the stranger still closing in, until he stopped, right in front of her.

  Of them. Cassie was there, too. In fact, he spoke to her first. "Mrs. Harris. Always a pleasure." He took her hand, and lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

  Who even did that?

  "Cade. Mrs. Harris is Carter's grandmother. Call me Cassie."

  Cade. As in Cade Lawson?

  "Helene, I take it?" His soft, kissable mouth stretched into a smile.

  Hell, she wasn't ready for this. No simple smile should have an effect like this.

  "Yep. That's me. Helene. And you're Cade." Shit, now he was going to think she was stupid. As was her way when feeling stupid, she chose to attack first. "The idiot who threw out a crap-ton of money to dance with me."

  "And here I thought I donated a crap-ton of money to the unfortunate souls laid off around the city." His smile only widened. He was a good sport. Charming.

  And she was way, way out of her depth.

  Cade

  Cade couldn't help but smile. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Good. He wasn't fond of people who licked his boots simply because he was fortunate enough to have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

  "You have to admit, it's a little bit stupid," she insisted. "Some people work their entire life and never see that much money. Spending it like it's spare change is weird."

  "It's entirely stupid." Cade wasn't delusional. "But it serves a purpose."

  She lifted a brow, wordlessly challenging him.

  "These events are about business. Making a point that I see millions as spare change ensures that the world knows everything is fine at Lawson and Montgomery. Word travels. By morning, everyone will know I was here, what I wore, who I spoke to." His smile broadened. "Who I danced with."

  Helene grimaced. "You truly are from another universe."

  He shrugged. "Tell me things don't work like that in your social circle. You've never seen a colleague pay for a round of drinks for an entire room, and gossiped about it the next day around the copy machine?"

  He was right, and she didn't like it, judging by the way her eyes narrowed. "I don't gossip. Or spend much time in the copy room."

  Ah, she hadn't liked assumptions about her job. Which was only fair. He didn't much like her assumptions about him, either. No matter how hard they were to refute.

  "Apologies. I don't know what you do." He paused. "I don't know anything about you at all, in fact. Tell me."

  He leaned in, genuinely interested.

  Her defensiveness clear in her stiff stance, she still replied. "I'm a sales associate for a boutique brand. Skin products. Derivative, I know. But I like it."

  He smiled encouragingly. "My sister and her friends are always complaining about skin issues. I should send them your way."

  "Sorry, I couldn't fit a business card in this dress."

  She looked down at her fitted outfit, and Cade couldn't help it. He wasn't a saint. His gaze immediately zeroed in on her generously filled neckline.

  "I suppose not."

  She snorted. "Enough about me. What do you do at…" A crease appeared between her two shapely brows. "Lawson and Montgomery, was it?"

  He was about to answer when Carter called for attention on the raised platform, clapping his hands. "Thank you for your generous contributions. Now, if you'd be so kind as to make some room, we'll start the first dance."

  The hall was vast enough to fit twice as many guests—the bulk of the crowd moved to leave a clear space at the center.

  While he was chatting with Helene, a band had set up close to the French windows leading to the gardens.

  "Shall we?" He held a hand up. Helene took it, and let him lead her to the center of the room. "I'm the CFO and majority holder. James, the CEO and founder, handles most of the face-to-face aspects of the business. I'm the one who calculates the risk and decides which way we want to expand. Our business specializes in innovative technology. It's interesting, challenging, and sometimes frustrating, but I, too, very much enjoy my job."

  No longer stiff or confrontational, Helene grinned. "I didn't expect that. I thought you'd sit on the board, play golf, and smoke cigars, or something."

  Of course, she did. "Well, I do sit on the board. But as for the rest, you're confusing me with the other Mr. Lawson, my grandfather. Cigars stink, and golf bores me to tears. Don't ask about the yacht, though. I'm enjoying proving your prejudice wrong."

  "You think me prejudiced?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

  One of Cade's hands rested on the small of Helene's back, touching the soft velvety fabric that covered her curves, while the other held on to hers, ever so lightly. He looked right into the depths of her eyes. They were peculiar eyes, overall green at first glance, but there were speckles of gold at the center and the rim seemed almost blue. It would have been easy to get lost in these eyes. "If the shoe fits."

  She sighed. "All right, so maybe I don't understand rich people. You're just so…extra."

  "We're people, just like you. Your sister is wealthy enough in her own right, if I'm not mistaken. Does that make her different?"

  "Yes." She bit her lip, and shook her head. "No. I mean, yes and no. She has this house, and a crazy closet, and spends a hundred bucks on brunch without blinking, but she's still Cassie. You know."

  "And I'm Cade. With or without the hundred-buck brunch." Mostly with. But Cade had nothing against the occasional five-buck hot dog in the park.

  The band started to play the intro to a familiar waltz.

  "I don't know how to do this kind of dancing," Helene whispered, eyes budging.

  Cade smiled. "Fortunately, I do. It's not rocket science. You just need to follow my lead."

  He advanced and sidestepped, gently directing her, but Helene hesitated, before stumbling back somew
hat awkwardly. His hand steadied her.

  "I'm not very good at following." She bit her enticing lower lip again, unaware of just how appealing she was in that moment.

  Cade stepped sideways and back, deliberate, slowly, adjusting his grip. "I can't blame you. Following isn't as easy as most people make it out to be. It requires a degree of trust." And in that moment, he very much wanted her to give in to him. He adjusted his hand in hers. "Let me lead, Helene."

  He felt the moment she gave in, the moment she stopped fighting to choose the direction or stay in place.

  "Good girl."

  "I'm not a little girl, Mr. Lawson."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "I should hope not." It wouldn't do to have the sort of thoughts he had about her otherwise.

  Cade couldn't even begin to guess at her age, but she certainly was all woman.

  "I don't get why most men insist on calling us girls."

  Proud and sure of her place in the world. He was starting to form a clear picture of Helene in his mind.

  And he liked it.

  "We say girls, because most women enjoy the endearment, and we aim to please."

  She snorted.

  "What would you like me to call you?"

  Her eyes widened. "You could always go with Helene."

  "The face that launched a thousand ships," he quoted. That certainly fit her.

  "A fan of the classics?" she asked. She was getting familiar with the waltz. She'd surrendered, letting him choose the pace, the direction of their steps. Emboldened, Cade crossed his arms, letting her twirl on her heels, and caught her after a spin.

  She chuckled, enjoying herself almost as much as he did.

  "Homer was a favorite of mine as a child. I enjoyed the battles, the tales of betrayal. Above all, I enjoyed what it said of humanity."

  "That we're all pawns to be moved across a chessboard by indifferent gods?" she shot back, not missing a beat.

  "Homer painted a picture of human nature based on our most common flaws. Hubris, misplaced trust, curiosity, pride. Their nature was their downfall, in the end. If the Trojans had been less arrogant, less certain of their victory, they would have burned that horse at the gate."

  "They could also just have listened to Cassandra to begin with. I think the biggest flaw was their dismissal of anyone with a vagina."

  Cade tried, but he couldn't remember having a conversation this stimulating with anyone other than his handful of friends. Even then, they weren't keen on discussing literature with him.

  "That certain would have saved them a hell of a lot of pain. But then again, there wouldn't be much of a story if they'd killed Paris early on."

  "There might have been a story. Just not a tragic one." Helene grinned, and asked, "So, what's your hamartia?"

  "You tell me. If it was that easy to pinpoint one's flaw, no one would have any."

  "You assume people want to change."

  "You don't?"

  Her new confidence allowed for him to lead them through a smooth waltz until the last note died. But he hadn't had enough of her. Not even nearly. Keeping her hand in his, he led her to the bar, and gestured at a bartender.

  "Whatever the lady would like."

  "Anything wet and white, please."

  Cade choked on his saliva, and coughed. Fuck. The last thing he needed was to think of her in relation to wet and white things, right here in the middle of a crowded room.

  But here he was, anyway.

  She didn't miss a beat. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Lawson."

  "You don't get to dictate that, after that order."

  The little witch dared wink at him. "It's not my fault you're a perv. I meant wine."

  The bartender said nothing, but by the smirk he had a hard time hiding, Cade guessed he agreed with him. "We have Chardonnay, Sauvignon, and champagne—a Veuve Clicquot."

  "I'll go for the bubbly."

  Cade ordered a scotch, before redirecting their chat. "Well?"

  She tilted her chin. "Sorry?"

  "You don't think people want to improve themselves, get rid of their flaws?"

  "Some people, sure." She shrugged. "Others, less so." She turned to look at the crowd. "Look at them. The people here earn more than the rest of New York City. Maybe their flaw is greed. If it is, do you think they'd want to change?"

  Cade turned her question in his mind. He wished he could put it down to bitterness, but she made a certain point, overall.

  "You assume that everyone wealthy became that way because of their greed. What about those born into it?"

  She frowned.

  "James and I got our trust when we finished college. Sure, we could have given it away, and struggled in the workforce like anyone less fortunate. Instead, we chose to build our company. One of our friends—who wasn't wealthy—had the brains. He was selling apps in his teens, and designed his first prototype freshman year. Other companies wanted to hire him and use his intellect to further their gain. We decided to finance it. With our contacts and our money, we became a billion-dollar corporation in ten years. None of that was born of greed. Now, we have thousands of employees whose livelihoods depend on us. What would you call that?"

  "An exception." Damn, she was ruthless. "Tell me most billionaires don't trade their money here and there and sit back on their investment."

  Cade sighed. "Fine. Capitalism is evil. We're all monsters."

  "Don't put words in my mouth, please. I don't think you're evil. I just think the world isn't fair. I'm luckier than most. I never was hungry; I never was discriminated against for my race or sexuality. But the way the system works only helps the one percent. Even this charity thing is a joke. Carter means well, but they'll give a bit of money to a few families, and then what? What about everyone else? What about these people when the money runs out? They'll still struggle to find a job that'll pay barely enough to survive. You guys are the only ones living."

  Cade downed what was left of his scotch. "I'm going to need another one of these."

  Helene

  Helene was shocked Cade stuck to her, taking insult after insults. She wasn't being fair, and she knew it. It was like all the frustration, all the fear and yes, anger she was feeling over her own situation, when confronted by this society, began pouring out of her mouth. She felt comfortable with him—and that translated into shoving into his face everything she thought about his kind.

  "So, tell me, what would you do to change the world, then?" he asked, after they both topped up their drinks.

  She shrugged. "I don't know. True change can only happen at a larger scale. But people like you can still have a real impact. You know, pay your employees enough for them to live comfortably. That translates into maybe an extra dollar per hour—pocket change that wouldn't impact your bottom line much, but would make the difference between a family eating pasta every day and being able to go to the movies once a week."

  Cade grinned. "We offer a competitive package—about twenty percent higher than our competitor."

  That sounded great, but… "Sure. For the executive and the head of your thinktanks, you're probably rolling out the red carpet. But they aren't those struggling to find a place to rent or pay for their kids' schools. How much do your secretaries make?"

  He stared at his glass for so long, Helene wondered if he’d finally had enough. "You know what? Not a fucking clue."

  She shrugged her shoulder. "That was my point."

  "But I will check that on Monday. I'll have a survey sent around, too, about living conditions and such."

  She could only stare.

  "I will," he insisted. "Just because I didn't think about an issue doesn't mean that I willfully ignore it once it's brought to my attention. If you ask me, the problem with the world is that there aren't enough Helene Franklins in it."

  Now, she laughed. "You couldn't handle two of me."

  "No, I couldn't." Laughter brightened his dark, intense gaze.

  Cade Lawson truly was one of a kind. Helene had no i
dea whether he would follow up on his word, but he'd certainly managed to make her feel special tonight. "I can't tell whether you're being honest, or you just want to get into my pants." Someone had to make her stop speaking, now.

  "Why can't it be both?" he replied seamlessly.

  Gosh, she hadn't expected him to take the bait. Heat flared around her face and neck. She was blushing like a damn schoolgirl thanks to him. "I'll believe it when I see it."

  He laughed, stuffing a hand in his pocket. "Fine. Give me your email. I'll forward you the survey on Monday."

  "There's a difference between conducting a survey and actually taking action if your employees tell you there's a problem."

  "You don't give an inch, do you?"

  She really didn't. "What do you want me to say, that a conversation with you has changed my entire life philosophy because you have really nice shoulders?" He did, at that. Cade chuckled slowly. She took his phone all the same, and entered her email address, though she knew he wouldn't contact her. "There."

  He took the phone back and pocketed it. "Do you judge Carter as harshly as me?" he wondered. "I can only image the conversations around the table at Thanksgiving."

  Helene laughed. "Carter overpays everyone. I remember Cassie wondering at her starting salary when she first worked for him. And he's a self-made man." She had nothing but respect for her brother-in-law. "Plus, he gives me awesome Christmas presents."

  "Does that mean you're susceptible to bribery? How very greedy of you, Ms. Franklin."

  She was enjoying the banter more than she would admit.

  "Oh, dear. Olivia Vincent is approaching." Cade grimaced, his attention fixed on a perfectly poised, beautiful woman in a black suit. She wore it without a shirt underneath—just a diamond in the latest stare of fashion at her throat, showcasing her incredible rack. Helene wanted to be her when she grew up.

  "Someone you know?"

  He sighed. "You could say that. Olivia is my godmother. She takes her job rather seriously. You can expect a thorough interrogation, given that we've chatted for more than ten minutes."