Brooke, ard with the information she had gleaned from Kim, went about trying to get a way to et the rchandiser. She bribed his assistant to let her know about his movent and when she discovered that he was going out for dinner, she imdiately swung into action.
When she got to the restaurant, she approached the rchandiser, a suave and sophisticated man nad Jean Pierre. She knew that she had to tread carefully, to convince him without arousing too much suspicion. One wrong move and all her plans could fall to the ground.
"Mr Pierre," she began, her voice soft and seductive, "can I sit with you? There is sothing important I would like to tell you."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued at her bold appearance and before he could give her an answer, Brooke sat opposite him.
"And who might you be? What do you want..."
"Brooke, Brooke Maddox." Brooke said and held a hand out of a handshake.
"What do can I help you with?" He asked with narrowed eyes.
"I am a huge fan of your work and I feel so honored to be in your presence sir." Brooke gushed, easing Mr Pierre whose face brightened at the complints the pretty lady was bestowing on him.
He nodded and smiled. "How do you know ?" He asked.
"Your collaboration with the most reputable fashion houses points out your key sense of fashion and innovation. You have been instruntal in building the the fashion world to the state it is at." Brooke continued, stroking his ego.
"Do you work in fashion? Is that why you have sought out? You need a favor?" He asked, curious about what she wanted. "Listen, arrange a eting with my personal assistant. I don’t like to be bothered during my private ti.
"Oh it is not about ," Brooke said coquettishly. "I am here on behalf of my sister." She batted her eyelashes.
"Really?" Jean answered, "What can I do for this sister of yours, and who is she?"
"Her na is Lyse," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "She is... well, she is quite smitten with you."
Damien’s expression turned incredulous. "Your sister? In love with ? Why?"
Brooke nodded, her eyes wide with sincerity. "Yes, it is true. She has been talking about you nonstop. She admires your work, your style, everything about you."
Jean’s eyes narrowed skeptically and he stared at Brooke as he tried to place her face. "You are the creative director at Marlowe’s." He said at last and Brooke grinned widely and nodded.
"And that ans that your sister is Lyse Van Doren." He added.
He knew of Lyse, her marriage to the cold, calculating businessman Levi Van Doren had caused an uproar. It was hard to imagine her being smitten with anyone other than her husband. But sothing about Brooke’s earnestness made him pause.
"Why are you telling this?" he asked, his voice wary.
"Because I think that you two could be good together," Brooke replied. "You have a lot in common. You are both passionate, driven, and incredibly talented."
"And she is also married." He said blandly.
Brooke rolled her eyes impatiently at him. "Do you think that their marriage is real? Levi does not care, he only needs that marriage to appear professional." She whispered conspiratorially. "They both have affairs and Lyse wants you."
Jean considered her words. Perhaps there was sothing more to that marriage than t the eye. After all, Levi had cheated openly on Lyse just weeks after their marriage.
Jean was a promiscuous man who loved beautiful won and the fact that one as gorgeous as Lyse wanted him and even sent her sister to him was fanning passion in his loins.
"I will think about it," he said, his voice noncommittal. He did not want to sound eager but Brooke could see past his pretense.
Brooke smiled. "I know that you will. And when you do, it might be too late. I think you will realize that Lyse is the perfect woman one for you."
Leaning close, she spoke. "And she has planned a eting with you under the guise of selling her line, but i know my sister and she wants you to make a move on her."
With that, Brooke got up and smiled slyly at him before walking away. She could not help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She had played her part perfectly. Now, it was up to Damien to make the next move.
To ensure that nothing went wrong she was going to make Kim find out where the eting was to be held. She realized that this was the best plan she had co up with and with so success, it would see Lyse ruined and back at the bottom where she deserved to be.
With ti running out and the eting with Lyse and Mr Pierre drawing close, Brooke beca frustrated. Kim was a lost cause because he could not get her what she wanted. So instead, she waylaid Mr Pierre’s assistant and with the help of so money, she was able to find out where the eting was going to be held.
Brooke imdiately went to the restaurant, ard with an aphrodisiac and found a waiter who was ready to do her bidding for so money. She handed over the pills and instructed her on what to do when Lyse ca.
After showing her photos of Lyse and informing her on what ti she would be at the restaurant, Brooke headed ho. After pushing a few more pieces, she was content that she was going to be at the forefront when Lyse’s life crumbled all around her.
*
Lyse’s heart pounded as she adjusted her dress, a nervous energy coursing through her veins. The eting with Jean-Pierre was a big deal for her budding fashion label, and she could not afford to ss it up.
As she entered the sleek, modern café, her eyes scanned the room, searching for the renowned rchandiser.
Spotting him at a corner table, she approached with a confident stride. Jean-Pierre was everything she had imagined: tall, dark, fashionable and strikingly handso.
As they delved into the business of fashion, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Lyse felt a strange sense of ease in his company, a feeling she had not experienced in a long ti.
"So, you tell that you have sothing to show ." Jean smiled, the light flickering in his eyes.
"I do, I believe that you will be impressed with it. I have worked really hard on it and I’m very proud of it." Lyse said enthusiastically whil Jean smiled wolfishly as he imagined all that she had to show him, while Lyse continued to speak passionately about her work.
They order food and cocktails as they discussed and enjoyed the al and the company of each other. However, as the conversation progressed, Lyse began to feel a strange sensation.
Her heart raced, her breath quickened, and a warmth spread through her body. She tried to ignore the unusual feelings, attributing them to nerves and excitent at finally being able to convince the elusive rchandiser to look at her work and consider working with her.
As the eting drew to a close, Jean-Pierre noticed how flushed Lyse looked.
"Maybe we can go sowhere else, maybe a bar or a club?" He suggested.
Feeling a bit disoriented, refused. "I have had a hectic week, I think i should head ho instead."
Jean frowned, annoyed that Lyse was acting like she did not want to be with him when he already knew what her deal was.
"I thought that you wanted to show sothing." He said and placed a hand on Lyse’s.
"Tha.. that can wait till tomorrow." Lyse said.
"You know, Lyse," Jean-Pierre began, his voice smooth and seductive, "I have been thinking about your designs. They are truly innovative. I am sure that we can do sothing big together."
Lyse nodded, her voice barely a whisper. She could still not concentrate. The room seed to be spinning, and her body felt heavy. She realized, with a growing sense of panic, that she had been drugged. She had had a single cocktail and it had not been strong enough to make her feel this way.
She tried to stand up, but her legs felt weak. Jean-Pierre noticed her distress and smirked. "Don’t worry, my dear," he said, his voice laced with malice. "I know just what you need."
Before she could react, he grabbed her hand and led her out of the café. He helped her into his car, despite her futile attempts to resist him and he drove to a nearby hotel.
As they entered the room, Lyse struggled to break free from his grip. She was terrified, but her body felt numb, her mind clouded. She struggled against him, her strength waning with each passing mont. She cried out for help, but her voice was muffled. Jean-Pierre, ignoring her pleas, dragged her to the bed.
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