Page 1 of Perfect Proposal
Prologue
Carys
The tall, distinguished man with silver at his temples stands before me, offering his hand. “I hope you’ll be happy here, Carys.”
“I suspect I will be, Kristoffer. I’ve admired your company for a while. I’ve kept my eye out for the right time to make my move to become a member of it.”
Kristoffer Wilde’s hand tightens briefly on mine. “Really?”
“Indeed.”
He tosses his head back and bellows out a laugh. “With the contract you just negotiated, I know two things about you already.”
“Oh? What’s that?” My head tips to the side.
“First, you’re going to be an incredible asset to our legal team. Even without your impressive resume.”
My lips curve upward. “Tell me the truth. Was it the intellectual property rights that caught your eye or the domestic and international distribution agreements? I know you just lost your director of business and legal affairs.”
His own lips twitch. “I’ll never tell. You might decide you want more money.”
We share a laugh as he releases my hand. “How about I escort you down to your new office and introduce you to a few members of your team? I’m certain they’ll be thrilled to stop having me breathing down their necks.”
“That would be lovely.”
Kristoffer comes around the desk. Just as he’s about to open the door to the small conference room that connects to his New York City office, I blurt out, “What was the second thing?” At his quizzical look, I remind him, “You said there were two things you knew about me already. What’s the second?”
The man standing next to me has plucked international music stars from obscurity and made them worldwide sensations. He’s traveled all over the world with an ear for voices the world was meant to hear. And he has a reputation for being as honest as summer days are long.
Which is why I’m amused instead of insulted when he says, “I just know you’re going to be a pain in my ass. Not only are you a lawyer, you’re sharper than the tractor fender I got this scratch on.” He points to a barely noticeable scar that runs near his sideburns as the door is flung open.
I slip past him murmuring, “It’s my job and my pleasure to be one.”
Kristoffer laughs. “Your mama and papa must be awfully proud of you.”
An ache that’s never quite disappeared flares around my heart. We exit the sanctum and pass Kristoffer’s two personal assistants before I’m able to say, “I’m certain they would be if they were still alive.”
He stops short. We’re in the vestibule before solid mahogany doors—doors no one can get through without a pass from the security team just beyond them. “I’m so sorry, Carys. Human Resources lets me know if there are any red flags. They wouldn’t tell me about something so personal.”
“It was a while ago—almost ten years,” I respond softly.
“That’s why you gave up clerking for Wiltshire.” He names the federal judge I’d landed an internship with when I graduated Harvard Law at the tender age of twenty-three.
“Yes. I had—have—” I correct myself. “—a younger brother. I needed to be at home with him to get him through his senior year of high school and into college.” I shrug as if it doesn’t matter when at the time it felt like one more piece of my identity being stripped away. In one night, I lost the two people who loved me most in the world and my identity.
Everything changed.
“I might bitch about you being a pain in the ass later, but you’re a good person, Carys,” Kristoffer says gruffly before he opens the outer door.
My mouth falls open slightly, but I follow him quickly. I exchange the security badge I’m wearing for the visitor one I was issued downstairs. Once the two of us are tucked safely in the elevator, I’ve recovered enough to ask, “Tell me about the team I’ll be working with.”
“Don’t know much about them as I try to avoid lawyers.” Kristoffer shoots me a good-natured wink.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to live down to the rest of our reputation,” I inform him pertly.
He throws his head back and roars with laughter as we step off the elevator. He guides me to the right, beyond a bank of offices that line the windows, past curious stares. Finally, we reach the corner office, and he twists the handle, extending his arm inward. “Here we are.”
I step past him into a dream. I move behind the enormous L-shape desk with an ergonomic office chair behind it. There’s a modern printer resting on top of it, wires dangling haphazardly. I lift a brow at Kristoffer.
