Why Hooking Up with My Rich Older Boss Could Be the Best Decision I Ever Made: Part 2

Jared Harris Is Engaged to Younger Woman

The night flew by with din­ner, drinks, and some busi­ness talk. We were back at the hotel by eleven and I was in my own bed by midnight—alone. Mr. Brown was tired from talk­ing up the clients, and before part­ing ways that night he had told me not to worry about tonight and that tomor­row would be thrilling enough. I was expect­ing a kiss or a hug, but I got noth­ing. It was OK though, because I needed a good night’s sleep any­way, and the king-size bed would pro­vide me with all I needed that night.

I was woken up at 8 a.m. sharp by room ser­vice pound­ing loudly at the door, scar­ing me straight out of bed. I put on a robe and answered the door, where I was greeted by three door­men bear­ing lots of bags and boxes. The first one ush­ered in a sil­ver cart with fresh fruit, orange juice, cof­fee, and a card. The card read, “Busy day ahead. Please make sure my suit, shirt, and tie are ready. Be ready promptly at 8 p.m. Enjoy your dress!” It was signed at the bot­tom by Mr. Brown with a smi­ley face.

One of the other door­men laid down a dress bag and three boxes, after which he instructed me not to open them until 6 o’clock. I was then informed that a limo dri­ver would be down­stairs in an hour to take me to get my nails and hair done. I rushed to fin­ish my break­fast, threw on jeans and a T-shirt, and caught the dri­ver. It was a quick ride down­town to one of the best salons in Chicago. I walked in and spent the next three hours get­ting a man­i­cure, pedi­cure, hair, and makeup done. I set­tled on a low, side pony­tail for my hair and 1950s pin-up makeup: big red lips, heavy eye­liner, and rosy cheeks. My face def­i­nitely said sex kitten.

I returned to the hotel with a lit­tle bit of time left before I was sup­posed to open my boxes, but I couldn’t wait any longer and unzipped the dress bag. I already had the red Herve Leger dress that I had picked out from the bou­tique the day before, but I couldn’t wait to see what this one looked like. It was a gor­geous, black lace dress by another high-fashion designer. I remem­bered see­ing a sim­i­lar design on Hollywood’s red carpets—I could not believe I got to wear some­thing so extrav­a­gant. And then adding black Louboutin shoes and dia­monds to my ensem­ble, I was def­i­nitely going to look like the belle of Chicago.

As I headed to the lobby, for a bit of flair I decided to take the stairs down the last flight, which led directly into the lobby area. Mr. Brown was stand­ing at the foot of the stairs with his mouth agape—I got the reac­tion I was look­ing for. When I greeted him by say­ing, “Hello, Boss,” he appeared to be strug­gling with try­ing to keep him­self from rip­ping off my clothes right then and there. I told him how appre­cia­tive I was of every­thing he had given me, and we headed out toward the limo. We would be arriv­ing at the Gala soon, and I knew it was def­i­nitely going to be a night to remember.