Page 3 of The Rancher's Second-Choice Wife

Debbie knew how important it was to keep their VIP clients happy, and in exchange for an insanely high hourly rate, the woman had also been more than happy to sign a contract that obliged her to be at their client's beck and call.

So why was that idiot bailing on them now?

The door to her office suddenly flew open as her assistant manager Giovanni came barreling in. "Bad news, Joy. I heard it straight from the horse's bestie's mouth—-" Giovanni, seeing his employer's confusion, hurriedly explained, "I'm talking about Carrie—-"

"Our receptionist?"

"She's also best friends with Debbie, and she didn't want to say anything at first," Giovanni reported with a sniff, "but when I told her that Mr. Rossfield could ruin us with just one word..."

Joy could only listen with growing horror as Giovanni relayed Debbie's failed attempt to seduce their client in their last session, and how this was the idiot's way of getting back at the billionaire for turning her down.

"I always knew she was stupid," Joy groaned, "but I didn't know she could be that stupid!"

Giovanni started biting his nails when he realized they only had less than an hour left to assign a stylist for their billionaire client. "What do we do now?"

Joy resumed pacing as she went through their current roster of stylists. Kevin was still working on Mrs. Vanderbilt's perm. Alicia was on an assignment to do the hair for a celebrity at an undisclosed location. Melanie was on maternity leave, but even if the woman were willing to come in, she would never make it in time.

"Please tell me you've got a plan," Giovanni said nervously.

"I think I do..." It was Joy's turn to start biting her nails. "But I need to make a choice." Did she risk asking the billionaire if she could reschedule...or should she take a gamble on her most promising junior stylist?

****

HEATHER WENT STRAIGHT to business as soon as Valerian answered her video call.

"Your schedule today is as follows: 5:00 AM, skydiving. 6:30 AM, breakfast at the Catskills with Ezio Marchetti. 8AM, a meeting with your bank manager aboard your private jet en route to San Antonio. 1PM, a video call with your girlfriend. 2PM, golf meeting with your lawyer. 3PM, a haircut while aboard the Black Eagle en route to Austin. 4PM, drifting session, and we've reserved the stadium for your exclusive use. 6PM, dinner at the Spring Harvest Ball, where you'll also be their keynote speaker."

"And that's it? You've got nothing after 6PM?"

Heather crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Valerian in the eye before saying firmly, "Yes, that's it." Most would have rightfully assumed the billionaire was being sarcastic. But he wasn't. Since Valerian was a workaholic with an insatiable appetite for adrenaline-pumping activities, Heather's biggest challenge was keeping the younger man from killing himself.

"How about—-"

"I thought you should also know that Salon Joyeux is sending another stylist for your 3PM session—-"

"Fuck."

"—-just as I predicted."

"Fuck."

"No need to worry about taking time out on my account," Heather said airily. "I've already taken the liberty of treating myself using the company card."

"How wonderfully efficient of you."

Heather clucked her tongue at the billionaire's less-than-gracious response. "I told you from the start you'd lose this bet. You're always too harsh—-"

"I was being truthful. Surely that would be better than lying to her?"

"So many other things are better than you telling Debbie you wouldn't date her even if she were the last woman on earth," Heather shot back.

"Isn't that the only proper thing to say, considering I'm in a relationship?"

"But the poor girl didn't know that, did she?"

"Oh, come off it, Heather," Valerian said irritably. "It's not my job to inform every damn woman I meet I'm off the market, is it?"

It was true Valerian didn't owe anyone an explanation, but neither was he stupid enough not to notice his spellbinding effect on women.

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