Duping Cupid (A Valentine's Day Short Story) Read online

  Other Books by Gina Ardito

  The Bonds of Matri-money

  A Little Slice of Heaven

  A Run for the Money

  Nobody’s Darling (Book I of the Nobody Series)

  Nobody’s Business (Book II of the Nobody Series)

  Nobody’s Perfect (Book III of the Nobody Series)

  Eternally Yours

  Chasing Adonis

  The Gift of the Magic (Short Story in Mistletoe and Magic, a holiday anthology)

  Books by Gina Ardito writing as Katherine Brandon

  Kismet’s Angel (Book I of the Kismet Series)

  Kismet’s Revenge (Book II of the Kismet Series)

  Kismet’s Salvation (Book III of the Kismet Series)

  Echoes of Love

  Duping Cupid

  (A Valentine’s Day Short Story)

  By

  Gina Ardito

  The following is a work of fiction. All characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Victoria Ardito

  All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the electronic sharing of any part of this book without the express permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of intellectual property.

  Dedication

  For Leslie and Brandon Dennis, a couple who know the beauty and joy of true love. Thank you for including me among your friends. I am honored and grateful to know you both.

  Chapter 1

  “I need a man. Now.”

  Vivi Maxwell glanced up from her computer to casually observe the woman standing at her receptionist’s desk. The speaker was probably in her mid-forties, well put-together, in a sleek cream-colored blouse and charcoal gray slacks. Vivi had seen a similar ensemble in the Michael Kors outlet store retailing for about six hundred bucks. This one wasn’t the cheap knock-off for the masses, though. This was the real deal, tailored to fit her rail-thin body with enhanced boobs. Golden highlights in the woman’s platinum blond hair gleamed to her shoulders in a sleek updated pageboy. She’d tossed her silver fox wrap—real—over her folded arm with a carelessness that only the truly wealthy could pull off with aplomb.

  As the founder and boss of Cupid To Go, Vivi had become an expert at reading people. From the tapping of her Kate Spades to the way she twisted the sapphire and diamond cocktail ring on her perfectly manicured finger, every gesture from the newcomer screamed desperation. Expensive desperation. Recognition tickled Vivi’s memory. She’d seen this woman somewhere before. Then again, since she scoured the society pages of New York’s newspapers, most of these spoiled, wealthy, walking cadavers looked familiar. She never knew when one might wind up needing her services. Like today.

  Jumping to her feet, she headed for the doorway between her office and the lobby. This potential goldmine required the utmost in personal attention. “Why don’t you step into my office where we can talk privately?”

  The woman, slender as a celery stalk and looking just as snappable, scanned Vivi up and down with a jaundiced eye. “Are you Cupid?”

  “I guess you could say that.” Vivi smiled. She’d been nervous about appearing in the television spots for her unusual dating service, but the ad company thought putting a face to “Cupid” would resonate with potential customers. Now, everyone—from the other tenants in her apartment building to the owner of the bodega down the street—referred to her as Cupid. Her face became a walking advertisement—the best investment she’d made in the company so far. She offered her hand to the woman. “Otherwise known as Vivi Maxwell. And you are...?”

  The woman ignored the outstretched hand. “Expecting one hundred percent discretion from you and every member of your staff.” Shooting a sharp look at Sarah, she glided past the receptionist’s desk and sailed straight into Vivi’s office.

  “Of course,” she replied. “Sarah, why don’t you take your lunch break?”

  Sarah peered at her over the black frames of her square eyeglasses, doubt in her furrowed brow. “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.” The potential client wanted confidentiality, and she would do everything in her power to put her at ease. While Sarah grabbed her purse from her desk drawer, Vivi returned to her office. Once inside, she closed the door and took a good, long breath before gaining her leather seat behind her walnut partner’s desk. She indicated the padded wooden chair across from her. “Have a seat.”

  The woman assessed the chair with a glare of disgust before replying, “No, thank you. I’ll stand.”

  Fine. If the furnishings didn’t suit the ice princess, she could stay on her sky-high heels ‘til her calves cramped. “All right then. Tell me what brought you to Cupid To Go.”

  “My ex-husband.” The caustic bitterness in those words scalded the walls around them. “Twenty years of marriage and he comes home two weeks ago to tell me he’s leaving me for his executive assistant.” Sneering, she curled her fingers around the last two words in air quotes. “She can have him. For the last five years, he couldn’t get romantic without help from his other executive assistant, Viagra.”

  If Vivi had a dime for every time she’d heard this story, she’d be the one with the genuine tailored Michael Kors slacks and Kate Spade shoes. Still, she reacted with appropriate wide-eyed shock and a sympathetic nod, which victims of infidelity always required. Clasping her hands on the desktop, she went into business mode. “Am I right in assuming you are now forced to attend some holiday soiree where he’ll also be in attendance and you need a drop-dead gorgeous guy on your arm for the event?”

  “No.”

  Vivi blinked. She didn’t usually read her clients wrong. “No?”

  “I need someone for the entire winter season. From now until the end of March. I have a full calendar of holiday events and social engagements where I can’t be seen unescorted. And I have a very specific type of man in mind.”

  “I’m sure you do, but a four-and-a-half-month stint is highly unusual in our business.” In fact, that extended period of time was pretty impossible. Oh, she’d find someone, but the pool from which she’d choose prospective dates narrowed considerably due to time constraints, prior engagements, and other obligations.

  “I’m sure it is unusual,” the socialite shot back, “but if you can provide me with the right man and promise me one hundred percent confidentiality, I’m willing to pay extremely well for your services.”

  “I can assure you, Mrs...?”

  “Bannerman. Or, to be more precise, the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Bannerman.”

  Vivi nearly swallowed her tongue. Ava Featherstone Bannerman. Holy cow. Back in the early nineties, Ava Featherstone had been poised on the precipice of super model status when she met Cecil Bannerman, New York financier and a descendant of one of the country’s oldest banking families. Since “no Bannerman wife had ever worked outside the home in the last three centuries,” Cecil had insisted Ava quit the runway and decline the lucrative cosmetics contracts to become a Junior Leaguer and social climber. To the dismay of the Women’s Movement, Ava had given up her career independence for love, drifting into obscurity in no time.

  Apparently, Ava now rued her choice. Go figya.

  When Vivi didn’t speak, the woman’ s expression grew frosty. “I assume your silence indicates you recognize my name.”

  She cleared the block in her throat with a sip of tepid coffee from the mug on her desk. “Yes,” she said at last and indicated the cup. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Water?” Cyanide?

  “No, thank you. I’d rather not dally here too long, if you don’t mind. If someone should see me...” She punctuated
the sentence with a delicate shiver. “This is a public relations nightmare for me. I gave up my career for a man and now, when it’s too late for me to return to that career, he’s going to ditch me.” She paced ruts in the floor in front of the desk. “I need to save face before Cecil and his bimbo go public. A handsome man will help convince the media that I’ve found someone younger and more virile. I’d rather look like a fickle cheater than an ignorant victim.”

  Understanding dawned, and Vivi nodded. “So you want someone to provide fodder for the paparazzi—someone they’ll think you left Cecil for, rather than Cecil leaving you.”

  “Yes. And I hope you’re up to the challenge because he can’t just be arm candy. He has to be credible, meaning he should be intelligent, witty, successful in his own right, and of course appear totally devoted to me.”

  As well as available for nearly five months. While her mind scrambled to think of possibilities, her mouth went into her usual spiel. “I think we can accommodate you. Do you have a physical description in mind? Height? Hair color? Eye color? General build?”

  Perching her bony butt on the edge of the chair, Ava nodded. “Definitely over six feet. Anything shorter would look ridiculous when I’m wearing heels. Blond hair would be a nice change from Cecil. Light eyes: blue or green. Good physique, but not too muscular.”

  While she listened with half an ear, Vivi dove into the bookcase behind her desk and ran her fingers through the white loose-leaf binders lined up on the shelves. She found the volume she needed, pulled it out, and flipped open the cover. “As a former model, you’re familiar with portfolios, right?” At the woman’s nod, she pushed the notebook across the desk. “These are all men with light colored hair and eyes, over six feet tall. A red circle sticker on the page indicates someone who’s already reserved for the holidays. You’ll have to bypass them, I’m afraid. If no one in this book fits your criteria, we’ll widen our search a little at a time: darker hair, dark eyes, and so on. I’m sure, with a little compromising, we’ll find the perfect independent agent to fit your needs.”

  She cocked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Independent agent? That’s a fancy term for ‘gigolo,’ don’t you think?”

  “Hardly.” Fury ignited in Vivi’s nerve network, but she tamped down her temper with a series of quick deep breaths. “Our dating service is actually nothing more than another acting job for our employees. Most of our agents are actors, actresses, or models in between paying gigs. We also have several university students who work here to help pay tuition. Cupid To Go provides dates for women—and men—to steer them through an awkward social situation or to save face when backed into a corner by well-meaning matchmakers. Can’t bear the idea of going to your high school reunion because your wife’s just left you? Call Cupid To Go and arrive with a gorgeous blonde on your arm. Trying to avoid the social Siberia of the ‘singles’ table at your cousin’s wedding? Cupid To Go can provide a charming escort that will gain you the envy of all your relatives. Don’t want to celebrate your birthday alone? For a fee, Cupid To Go will create a memorable package that includes flowers sent to your job, a date who appears totally devoted to your happiness for the entire day, reservations at your favorite restaurant—”

  “Yes, yes.” Ava waved her ringed hand. “I’ve seen your ads.”

  “Then you understand, no matter how many months you’re hiring one of our agents to serve as your escort, sex is not part of the deal. We are not in the prostitution business, so if that’s what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the wrong place, Mrs. Bannerman.”

  “Of course not. You’re what I’m looking for.” She glanced up from the glossy photos on the pages, her expression bland. “How exactly did you get started in this line of work?”

  Vivi shrugged. “Same way you wound up here, seeking my help. Some unfeeling jackass stomped on my heart.” Julian Bruno, dirtbag extraordinaire.

  In her pre-Cupid life, Vivi had been a paralegal, and her boyfriend, Julian, was about to be named a partner in the law firm where she worked. After three years of dating and two of actually living together, Julian got his partnership. The supportive girlfriend, she’d waited, hopeful, for her Christmas present that year, expecting a huge diamond and a chance to plan her dream wedding. Instead, he gave her a gym membership. When she confessed her disappointment, he said to think of the gym as an incentive. If she dropped thirty pounds, she’d get her engagement ring. After all, he told her, a partner’s wife had to look a certain way, had to show she maintained self-control.

  Inspired by his offer, she lost two hundred pounds by moving out of their shared apartment. She also lost her deposit and the remainder of her half of the rent, but gained perspective. No man would ever use her heart and discard her again. And no one—man or woman—would ever make her feel inferior because she didn’t fit into the media’s bizarre standard of beauty. She had a huge heart and an appetite for life that a skinny figure couldn’t contain. Given the choice between munching on a carrot stick or spending time with friends over wine and cheese, she’d take the fun option every time. No regrets.

  After the holidays that year, the entire office was expected to attend a celebration at the Water Club, honoring the new partner. Pride warred with self-preservation. If she didn’t go, her boss would assume she wasn’t interested in advancing in her own position. But how could she go and face Julian—especially since, before the ball dropped on New Year’s Eve, he’d begun dating some skinny blonde with an IQ lower than her dress size? It was one thing to tell herself she didn’t need to be a size two to be happy; it was another to face Julian’s new bombshell girlfriend for the first time in front of all her coworkers. No one had that much self-confidence.

  “Knock, knock!”

  Vivi’s reverie exploded at the sound of Sebastian Lawrence opening the door to her office.

  Correction. Only one person had that much self-confidence. Her hero from that promotion party, her best friend and silent business partner since that one memorable evening, strode inside and did a double-take. “Oops. Sorry. I didn’t know you were with someone. I came to take you to lunch.” He leaned a hip on the windowsill to her right, his profile perfectly lit up by afternoon sunshine.

  Despite the fact Sebastian would turn thirty-nine this coming spring, he still exhibited the stellar looks and musculature that had made him a heartthrob on a hit television series back in the nineties. Tall, broad-shouldered and blond, with blue eyes that rivaled the waters of Lake Tahoe, he had turned his back on acting years ago, but never lost his star quality.

  “Ohmigod, he’s perfect,” Ava exclaimed. “I’ll take him.”

  Vivi turned her attention from Sebastian to the notebook on her desk. “Which one?”

  Ava jabbed a finger at Sebastian. “Him.”

  He and Vivi exchanged confused looks. Sebastian wasn’t a date, hadn’t been anyone’s date since that partners’ celebration eight years ago. “I’m sorry. There must be some mistake. This is Sebastian Lawrence. He’s not one of our agents. He’s a friend of mine.”

  “I don’t care who he is.” She tapped a finger at the glossy photo of sexy med student, Dylan Ashcroft, on page eleven. “These are...boys. I need a man. And I want him.”

  “But—”

  “It’s okay, Vivi,” Sebastian said with a knee-weakening smile aimed straight at Mrs. Bannerman. “If the lady wants me, the lady can have me.”

  He was kidding. Whenever he showed up when she had a potential female client, he turned on the charm to flood levels as a way of soothing the victim’s bruised ego. Soothed clients tended to view their Cupid experience with a better attitude. But a woman like Ava Bannerman wouldn’t allow harmless flirtation to remain a simple innocent dance.

  “Bass,” Vivi murmured. “She’s looking for someone long term. All winter, in fact.”

  He shrugged, but never turned his gaze to her. “No problem. I’m available all winter.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Ava cut her off. “If you wan
t my business, you’ll agree. “ She jerked her platinum head in Bass’s direction. “If he’s willing, what possible argument could you offer?”

  “For one thing,” Vivi retorted, “he’s not an employee.”

  “Make him one.”

  This woman had a set of brass ones. Ava Featherstone Bannerman probably never heard the word, no. Until now.

  “No,” Vivi said, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair. “I’m afraid it isn’t that easy.”

  “Vivi, it’ll be fine. Maybe even fun.” Sebastian pierced her anger armor with a barb of humor and a wink.

  “But, Bass—” This time, she cut off her own argument.

  A happy Ava Bannerman would pay well for her Cupid experience, but an unhappy Ava could destroy everything she had worked so hard for so long to establish. If Bass wanted to help her out, why argue?

  Maybe because she wondered why all of a sudden he had an interest in becoming some rich socialite’s boy toy. Not that she had any claims on him. She and Bass weren’t married—or even dating. They both had suffered third degree burns in love and had sworn off all romance that wasn’t profit-related.

  “You know what?” she said at last. “You’re right. Sebastian is witty, intelligent and successful in his own right. If you think he’s perfect, I can’t argue with you. In fact…” She rose from her chair and swept a hand toward her best friend. “Bass, have a seat. You two can hash out the details of your relationship between you.”

  Her legs shook as she strode past him, but not quite as much as her trembling hands. What on earth was wrong with her? Maybe she’d come in contact with some virus on the subway this morning. How unlucky could she get?

  At least, Ava Bannerman was no longer her problem. Bass could handle her. Vivi’s stomach pitched, but she strolled into the lobby as if everything was perfect in her world. “I’m hitting the ladies room,” she managed to say through her dry throat. “Back in five.”