Armed with a badge, Brad drew himself up to his full six-foot one inch height and moved with purpose. If only he knew where he was going. He had done a thorough job scouring the building directory for clues. He didn’t know what he was hoping to find: “Stunning woman with emerald eyes” was not an actual job title, much to Brad’s dismay.

Both parties to Collision Number Two needed a few moments to take it all in and collect themselves. And to breathe.

As he took a breath, the wonderful fragrance again wafted his way; it was less powerful that what he’d experienced earlier. And as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

A flustered Brad spoke first. “It’s you!”

“Well, yes, quite,” Emerald smiled good-naturedly, “Is this how you spend your days?”

“Yes, but only when I spot a beautiful girl.” Oh gawd, did I really say that? Could I have been any cheesier? What’s a really good opening line when you’re stalking a woman at her office?

“You must excuse me now, I have work to do.”

“No, no, wait!” Brad realized that he was sounding crazier by the moment but he couldn’t stop himself. “I owe you for dry cleaning!”

“Really, it’s fine.”

Brad tilted his head slightly. “Oh, you changed your blouse.”

“Yes. If there is one thing we have plenty of around here, it’s clothes. I wish I could keep it.”

It probably helps that you would be beautiful in anything. Emerald’s comment about returning the blouse impressed Brad. Integrity was in short supply.

The multibillionare’s mind was close to blank.

Bradford van Arsdale, now also known as Jared Winslow, could scarcely understand what was happening to him, but he knew it was big and, apparently accompanied by the most glorious fragrance; so soft and so familiar. He inhaled a bit more deeply.

#

Emerald’s POV.

Emerald found it a bit easier to act unphased. Though tall, lanky, gorgeous dark haired men with blue eyes didn’t wander into her office every day.

He seems pretty harmless, mused Emerald. But, a little goofy.

“Look,” he glanced at her desk, searching for her name plate, “Emerald, I can’t explain it. I just had to see you again.’

“Emerald.” How delicious. How perfect for her. How beautiful.

“To pay for my dry cleaning. I understand.”

“No, it’s not the dry cleaning. Can I take you to dinner?”

It was terribly difficult sometimes, to be sensible. But, this is New York and the man technically had violated the stalker statute, Emerald wished he wasn’t quite so beautiful. And didn’t smell so good. He was clearly interested but did she want to open that door again? Five years of devotion to Tony had left her shattered. But, this man, Emerald couldn’t explain it but he made her feel safe.

“I don’t think so,” under the rules of engagement, the beauty had to decline the handsome stranger’s first offer. Emerald was not without experience fending off suitors. Did she really want to shoo this one away?

“I understand,” Brad sensed that she was willing to consider a less intrusive option. “Coffee? Right here. Downstairs, in your own building. There’s all kinds of security down there; a SEAL Team, rooftop snipers, you name it.”

He had a point.

“I just need a chance to know you. Even just a little.”

#

Though “Jared” would likely be a pleasant enough distraction, Emily could not stop thinking about Gema’s fabrics. She was not alone in her curiosity about the bumper crop of silk. Accounting was a bit perturbed as well. We spent how much on fabric this quarter?

Don’t we lose enough money every year on our clothing line?

#

Those Brows Need Some Taming

Jennifer’s POV

Junior Accountant, Jennifer Welles, became concerned enough to bring the matter to her supervisor, Julia Hunt. At forty-five, Julia was pretty sure that she had seen just about every crazy thing that could happen in haute couture. She had five years working for Chanel in Paris under her belt. A believer in the power of intuition, Julia told her staff that if it feels off, it probably is off. She never wanted anyone to fear coming to her with numbers that could be concerning.

Mistakes would be expensive. Nothing about the Charme operation represented “affordability” for all but a tiny collection of very wealthy women. I wonder if they all know each other, Julia once wondered. If the celebrities were factored out, the Old Money customers surely knew of each other. Old Money was easy to recognize; they were the least flashy patrons in the place.

“This definitely requires further investigation, Jennifer. First, and most importantly, we verify that their numbers are correct. Lots of problems are just math errors. That’s what we hope for anyway. “Next, we will need more procurement documentation. I’m glad you brought this to my attention, Jennifer, good catch.”

It is entirely possible that someone in the chain made a simple arithmetic error. Julia was fond of Occam’s Razor: the simplest explanation is probably the correct one. Yet Julia, too, could not escape the feeling that something was not right.