Her Younger Millionaire

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. The waiter smiled and nodded, picked up her drink and put it back on his tray and led her to the guy’s table.

Rick was okay looking, an interesting conversationalist and he didn’t try to put his hand anywhere it wasn’t wanted. So when he invited her to a New Year’s Day party she agreed to go with him. It definitely couldn’t hurt.

As he left her at her door at 4am the next morning, she figured they might have something.

“I seriously need to find a dress ASAP,” she said aloud to herself.

*****

The boutique was some hole in the wall place which seemed to need a secret password for entry. There was no one in the shop when she finally entered and she wondered if she was in the right place. There were clothes though, everywhere. Arranged as if they were in someone’s closet. She picked up a few items, relishing the quality of material used to make them. Every item was unique and beautiful and there were no price tags on anything.

“Hello! Anyone here?”

“Quiet. No need to shout. This isn’t some football game,” an irritable voice said from behind a counter. She walked slowly up to it, wondering if someone was hiding behind it.

“Are you….hiding?” she asked the voice looking around for its owner.

“No I’m not hiding! I’m looking for my contacts,” the man said irritably, standing up from behind the counter. He was tall; really tall. And young. Probably not more than twenty eight if he was a day and fit. He made her feel suddenly fat, dowdy and old.

“How can I help you?” he practically growled at her.

“I’m er…looking for a dress. For a party.”

“Oh. Okay. Party dresses I think are over there near the window. Knock yourself out.”

“Uh…” she hesitated to ask him to help her seeing as he seemed to consider her a nuisance.

“There! Right there!” he said pointing irritably at one corner where there were indeed dresses hanging.

“Okay. Calm down,” she said moving toward the rack he was indicating. She fingered the dresses, pulling out one and then another. She turned to the irritable man, reluctant to talk to him again but not seeing that she had a choice since there was no one else about.

“Um, where’s your changing room?” she asked.

His fingers fluttered toward one corner of the room as his eyes were still cast down, probably looking for those contacts.

She walked slowly toward that corner and saw it was curved, there were some very comfortable looking benches covered in plush leather in front of some tables. The alcove was surrounded on three sides, by mirrors and the fourth side by a discreet curtain that separated the alcove from the rest of the shop. She dropped her clothes on the bench, drew the curtain so there was absolutely no space for anyone to peek in and tried on some clothes. Some fit okay, others didn’t. There was nothing that stood out so she went out again, returned the clothes and chose some others.

“Did you not find anything that fit?” the rude guy asked.

“I did, but nothing that stood out for me.”

“Oh yeah? What was wrong with your choices?”

Tina shrugged, not really sure she wanted to get into it with him, “They just weren’t…right,” she said. The man sighed in annoyance.

“Tell you what. How about you take that whole entire rack? I’m sure one of those will fit your exacting standards,” rude man said. Tina frowned.

“I’m not sure I can afford the entire rack. Besides aren’t you a bit rude for a shop assistant? Is this how they train you here?”

“Newsflash, I’m not a shop assistant and take the rack, totally free of charge. I’m late for something and I can’t wait for you to make up your little mind about what will suit your big ass.”

“Excuse me!?” Tina said in utter shock. She didn’t think anyone had ever spoken to her so rudely.

“I’m sorry, I meant that as a compliment now please, take the clothes.”

“No.”

“Okay then, what’s your address?”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

“I need an address to send the clothes to.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Are you giving me your address or not?”

“Not,” Tina said before stalking out. She was going to kill Jen for sending her into that nuthouse.

*****

Aiden O’Brien scowled as he made his ~polite~ way around the room for what felt like the 100th time. It was O’Brien Corporation’s New Year’s function and there was no way he could leave early lest he cause some kind of offense to his business allies, but boy did it drag on.

He wandered over to the window and looked out upon the frosty landscape of New York City, wondering how the ‘friendship posse’ were getting along. He supposed they were having a lot of fun, living it up and enjoying the holiday cheer whilst he was stuck here with all the fuddy-duddys who were so much older than him and were only interested in drinking the outrageously expensive wines and spirits, eating the hideously expensive food and sucking up to each other.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that the other CEO his own age, Phillip Seymour, had not attended and he did not blame him in the slightest. He would not attend this function or some of the others he was forced to suffer through if he thought he could get away with it, but as he was the host, it would be considered the height of rudeness if he were to try and leave early.

At least the older businessmen had stopped throwing their younger single female relatives at him after the debacle last year where he had gone up to each offender and quietly threatened to drive them out of business if they did not stop. Just because he was young and in charge of a multi-billion dollar corporation did not mean he was pining for female companionship or engagements of any kind and especially the kind that would give a perceived advantage to any of these leeches.

But what he wouldn’t give to be out of here and doing his own thing. Despite what a lot of people might think, being the head of O’Brien Corporation was not all fun and games.

His attention was brought back to the room as there was a sudden silence followed by muted whispers and gasps. He struggled not to face palm as one Bruce Banner swayed into the room, clearly very drunk. What the hell was he doing here and, more importantly, how in heaven’s name had he got past security?

He decided he had best make a stand before some idiot got the idea to call the police. No matter what Bruce might think, he would not wish for him to spend the night in a police cell due to what was probably some idiotic prank or dare. Contrary to popular belief, even he wasn’t that harsh.

He strode into the center of the room, where a space had opened up around the clearly inebriated Bruce.

“What do you think you are doing here?” he demanded.

“Oh *hic*, hey O’Brien, I got something I wanna say to you.” Bruce wobbled a bit and stepped towards him. “I…”

“And it was so important you had to crash this function to do so?” O’Brien demanded, as he cut Bruce off and crossed his arms. He looked down at Bruce with clear annoyance on his features, even though he knew that would not work on Bruce, stubborn mutt that he was.

“I just really need to tell you that…” Bruce started, but once again he did not get to finish.

“Mr. O’Brien, would you like me to call security?” one of O’Brien’s more sycophantic associates sidled up to him, clearly hoping to curry some favor. O’Brien rolled his eyes, but silently thanked the man as he had stopped what would probably have been some stupid rant about how horrible a person he was from Bruce. O’Brien knew he had to move quickly as Bruce was giving the sycophant the stink-eye.

“Oi, I was speakin’ here,” Bruce spat. “Now as I was about to say, I…”

“No, it’s fine, I can deal with him,” O’Brien said stepping forward and grabbing Bruce ‘s arm, cutting him off before he could say something potentially embarrassing. “I will be back shortly.” He ignored Bruce ‘s protests and marched the unsteady man out of the room before he could say anything that could possibly ruin his reputation or worse. He waited until they were definitely away from prying eyes and in a private room before he finally turned on Bruce.