Page 129 of Naughty Nelle

“Hello,” I said, my voice quivering.

“Sarah.”

I recognized the shrill voice immediately. A sigh of relief was followed by a huff of disgust. It was my demanding boss—Catherine Sinclair. Why the hell was she calling me on a Sunday night, let alone a three-day weekend? I scrunched up my face as she continued.

“I’m just checking in to make sure you booked my trip to Nuremberg for the International Toy Fair.”

“All done,” I lied through clenched teeth. The damn Toy Fair was over a year away.

“And I can assume you got me first-class tickets and a suite at The Four Seasons?”

“Yes.” Sheesh!

“I want to extend the trip. After the convention ends, I want to go to Milan to do a little shopping. So be sure to add that to your ‘To Do’ list.”

“I assume you’ll want to stay at The Four Seasons?”

“Seriously, do you really have to ask? I don’t like it when you waste my time.”

And I don’t like it when you waste mine,I seethed silently.

“I will email you a list of the designers with whom I want you to book appointments. And while I’m there, I want to visit my hairdresser, Adolpho, so squeeze that in too. I expect everything to be taken care of by the time I walk into the office on Tuesday.”

“Of course.” Seriously?

“That’ll give you plenty to do over the rest of the weekend.”

My blood curdled. I already had plenty to do over the rest of the weekend and it had nothing to do with work. Or her.

“Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“Good.” Once again without thanking me, she ended the call.

God, I hated working for this skanky bitch. She was a total slave driver—and an incompetent one—with no appreciation for all I did for her. There was only one saving grace. A least it was a job taking me one step closer to my dream of creating toys that would give joy to boys and girls. If only that could happen sooner than later.

Seething mad, I set my cell phone back on the nightstand and inhaled a deep breath to let go of the rage that was spiraling inside me. As I got dressed, my head spun at the prospect of going to a party in the Hamptons with my Trainman and the night ahead.

It was only a five-minute drive to the gated oceanfront house where the party was taking place. Unlike Ari’s New England-style cottage, this one was a spectacular Downton Abbey-like brick manor house surrounded by formal gardens, greenhouses, and stables. After valeting the Bentley, we were led to the vast backyard. About two hundred people sipping cocktails milled about. They were all perfectly tanned and chicly dressed, the women mostly wearing sophisticated sleeveless dresses and the men in jackets. Everyone oozed sex and money, and I felt out of place in my jeans and T-shirt.

As we ambled through the crowd, Ari turned heads. He was wearing white linen drawstring pants and a V-neck T-shirt that showed off his bronzed skin and biceps. I swear every woman was looking at him although Ari seemed oblivious to their stares. Holding his hand did not alleviate my anxiousness. Who knew better than me the effect this heart-stopping sex god could have.

“There’s my client,” said Ari, glancing to the right. “I need to spend some time with him.”

Breaking loose of my hand, he strutted in the direction of a debonair, silver-haired man clad in khakis and a navy blue blazer.

Please don’t leave me.I felt intimidated, surrounded by all these beautiful people I didn’t know and who were definitely way out of my league.

Ari needs a woman who is mature and independent.Ari’s sister’s words whirled around in my head. Okay, Sarah, plain and tall, be a big girl and mingle.

I snagged an hors d’oeuvre from one of the white-gloved waiters who were passing them around and strolled over to the bar. Maybe a glass of wine would loosen me up.

“I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay over ice,” I told the bartender.

“Sarah!”

My eyes popped. The raspy voice behind me was familiar. So familiar. Holding my wine, I spun around. Standing in my face was my best friend Lauren, dressed to the nines in a tight strapless dress that hugged her curves and matched her six-inch-high strappy stilettos.

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