Who Wants to Marry A Billionaire?(5)
Nina expelled a breath. And that was before the IRS notice. She was rather puzzled about why Daniel DeVere cared about her finances if he wasn’t going to give her a raise. Since he seemed to know everything, anyway, there didn’t seem to be much point in trying to hide the truth.
“Yes, that’s right.” Nina picked her words carefully; she didn’t want to sound like a victim asking for pity, but she wanted to be truthful. “My salary has to cover not only my own living expenses and mortgage and student loans, but the tuition and living for my brother, and I help my sister out some, and sometimes, I have to supplement my mother’s income.”
Daniel tried to look sympathetic, but Nina had the sense that Daniel DeVere had no idea what any of that really meant; the stress of it all, or the fact that her salary–while not bad for a relatively young, single, person—was totally inadequate to cover all these other things, especially given the high cost of living in Boston.
“It’s been difficult, then?”
“Yes, very difficult, and frankly, things have gotten even worse since I asked for the raise. The IRS is under the impression that I owe them ten thousand dollars, and if something doesn’t happen soon, I’m in danger of losing my home. They’re going to put a lien on it in thirty days.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that, I know that must be upsetting.” Daniel looked as if he meant that, and it made Nina feel a tiny bit better for divulging her intimate problems to a virtual stranger. “If it were up to me Nina, I’d give you a raise, a huge raise, and a bonus for all the good work that you’re doing for the Foundation, but the fact is, there’s a hierarchy for those things, and an approval process, and all that, and I’m not in that chain.”
Daniel stood up and wandered over to the bookcases, idly picking up items and fidgeting with them. Knowing the value of most of the things on that wall, it made Nina a little nervous. He always seemed on the verge of breaking something. He turned back to Nina. “I suppose you saw the item in the news about me.”
Suppressing a laugh, Nina couldn’t help but recall the expression on the faces of that Bulgarian model and some ambassador in the photos of Daniel from Cannes. It had been a stupid thing to do, but it was kind of hilarious. She cleared her throat, “You mean…the thing with the donkeys and the clowns?”
Exasperated, Daniel whacked a piece of genuine moon rock back on the shelves so hard that it nearly toppled the Ming vase. “No, not the thing with the damn donkeys and clowns.” He rubbed his head, wondering if the “incident” in Cannes was going to be the only thing people ever remembered about him. “I mean the thing in Panama.”
Before she could stop herself, Nina let out an audible “Ohhhhh.” She caught herself and tried to be professional. “Um, yes, yes I did see the Panamanian news item.” How could she forget the image of Daniel’s face peering out from between the ample—and fake—breasts of a stripper? She paused in her mind; she didn’t think it was politically correct to call them strippers, the correct term was, she supposed, exotic dancer. Although she wasn’t sure what was exotic about taking off your clothes.
“It was a set-up. The paparazzi were just trying to capitalize off of the whole donk…off the incident in Cannes. I was out looking for a restaurant for dinner, and these guys jumped me and dragged me in there.”
Nina stifled an incredulous, “Uh huh.”
Daniel pressed something, and a hidden panel popped open to reveal a mini-bar with crystal decanters and glasses. “Anyway, I think there’s a way for me to help you with your financial problem, and you’ll be able to help me out too.”
Now Nina was completely confused. What did her problems have to do with Daniel being set up by the tabloid press?
Daniel took out two crystal highball glasses from the mini-bar. “Have you ever heard of a company called Eco-Resort Calderon? It was founded by a man named Arturo Calderon.”
Somewhere in Nina’s head, a bell was going off. “I don’t know the company, but the name sounds familiar.” Then it hit her, the giant report on her desk about the Foundation projects in Central America. “Wait, I think he’s one of the Foundation partners in Central America—we have several projects in the mountain villages of Panama, one for putting computers in classrooms, one for improving rural health care—that Arturo Calderon?”
As Daniel splashed something amber and expensive looking into each glass, his hand shook, and he spilled a little. It was even worse than he knew, Daniel thought, the man was not only a business genius, he was a saint—and a little too much like Wilson DeVere. “Well, I’m not acquainted with Calderon’s relationship to the Foundation, but DeVere Industries has been trying to work out an acquisition deal with him. I…We want to bring Eco-Resort Calderon into the DeVere portfolio. It’s a perfect 21st century business: green, sustainable…it provides jobs to the local community. And it’s a great alternative to slash and burn agri-business in the rain forests. He’s even worked out a way to cultivate indigenous food crops as part of the resort’s holdings. It’s brilliant—and beautiful.”
That was all very nice, Nina thought, but she still didn’t have a clue why Daniel DeVere had called a program coordinator up to the thirtieth floor to tell her about DeVere Industries’ acquisition plans. “Mr. De…Daniel, this is all really fascinating, but I’m a little confused about why you’re telling me this.”