Double-Cross My Heart (38 page)

***

On Monday afternoon, Eden finally got time to check her personal email. The meeting with marketing had taken all morning and then there had been a production problem with the Passions Pink Pastel lip gloss. She’d hardly had time to think about the board meeting coming up on Wednesday.

Her computer screen jumped obediently to life when she jiggled the mouse. Clicking the internet icon, Eden connected with the Hotmail site and waited for her account to pop up. All of her inter-office mail went through the Michele server, but she needed to check her personal account in case her mother or Jessica had sent her an email.

Insomniac1.

The message indicator seemed to jump off the screen.

Eden swallowed before taking a deep breath. How could she have forgotten that he emailed her to this account?

Alex had put nothing in the Subject line of the message, but she didn’t need any clues. All he could have to say to her would be threats. Smoothly worded, thinly veiled threats.

He hadn’t talked with Michele apparently, which meant that he thought he still had a chance to get Eden back into line before Wednesday. Just like that, she was supposed to drop her plans and scuttle back to his side of the war. The man had confidence, she had to give him that.

With her heart beating fast and the taste of regret in her mouth, she forced a sneer onto her face and deleted the message. She probably ought to read the message if only to try and guess his next move, but she found she couldn’t make herself read his threats.

There was no reason for the agitation that suddenly crawled along under her skin. She had her plans for the board meeting all lined up. She’d prepared for every eventuality. Even if the board found out about her withholding the Bergere information, they’d most likely agree with her that neither Wendi or Michele could be trusted to act in the good of the company. And Eden had confidence that the board members who knew her would never believe she’d given damaging information the
Wall Street Weekly
reporter.

But her chest still felt tight and her muscles rigid from the effort to hold herself together. Never again would Alex smile at her, hold her…talk to her in that sexy, husky tone that told her he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Still, she wanted him. Ached—despite fiercely chastising herself—she longed to be with him.

Not that any of those feelings mattered. The real and true facts were clear. They were enemies, divided by their own separate determination to take control of the company.

The situation was shit, but giving into her urge to break down and sob all over her desk blotter wouldn’t change anything, she told herself again.

It was all done. No going back, no changing things. No point in cursing the gods for sending her a devious, lying man to fall in love with.

Automatically withdrawing a Payday from the box in her drawer, Eden paused in the act of tearing open the slippery paper wrapper. Her stomach felt twisted and burning.

She pulled the drawer open again and tossed the candy bar back inside. Some sorrows had no solace.

Maybe she should take up hard liquor. A lot of it.

***

“This is Alex Holt,” he said into the telephone. “I’d like to speak to Eden Merritt.”

“Please hold, sir, I’ll connect you to her office.”

“Thank you.”

He’d sent her three emails today. To the last two, he’d attached a request for a confirmation that they’d been received. She’d gotten the first one, but he had no way of knowing if she’d read his carefully worded request for her to talk with him. When he checked just now, he’d had no indication that she’d even opened the last email.

She wasn’t answering his calls to her cell phone, either.

He’d never before called her on the office line, due to the delicate nature of their connection. In the corporate world, telephone calls and messages had a tendency to filter through to the very people you least wanted to know about them.

However, if she wouldn’t respond to his emails, he’d get her attention another way. He didn’t want to cause her trouble at work, but she wasn’t giving him much option.

His jaw tight, Alex waited while her extension rang.

“Eden Merritt’s office, Cheryl Masters speaking.”

“Cheryl,” he said. “This is Alex Holt. I need to speak to Eden, immediately, if possible. Is she available?”

There was a slight pause before the woman replied, “Let me check, sir.”

Tapping his pen against his desk, he waited, impatient for the sound of her voice on the other end of the line. She’d be angry, he knew, but he hoped to change that.

He needed to tell her that she didn’t have to fight him…it was really all about her choices. Did she want to continue her transformation into a Wendi Williams-like corporate player or—

“I’m sorry,” the secretary came back on the line, her voice wooden, “Ms. Merritt is not available.”

“Well, when can I speak with her? Is she in a meeting? If you can tell me when she’s available, I’ll call back.”

There was a significant pause before the secretary said, “There won’t be any time you can catch her today. I’m sorry.”

Alex’s brows snapped together as an ominous conviction settled into his gut. Eden was refusing to take his call. “Tomorrow then?”

Another pause. “You can try back, of course, but I don’t think she’ll be available tomorrow, either.”

“Well,” he said, his anger and frustration making his voice silky, “when do you suggest I get hold of her?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Thank you,” he told the woman, his mouth thinned into a straight line. His love had one hard head, but he was damned if he was going to let her do this to herself without at least hearing what he had to say. “Thank you for your time.”

One way or the other, she was going to hear what he had to say.

***

Later that afternoon, Eden sat at her desk, working methodically through the stack of ad proofs.
It’ll all be over soon,
she told herself. Alex would stop sending her emails that she deleted. Stop calling her office.

Sometime in the next day or so, he’d get the message and then he’d go to Michele with the truth. All hell would break loose.

She paused, her pencil poised in mid-air.
Alex would go to Michele with the truth?
Did Alex even know the truth? Still, just the sight of his email addy on her screen, sent her stupid, bruised heart into orbit. That made her madder than hell. Why couldn’t she just stop caring?

Ring!
The phone of the desk next to her jangled.

“Hello,” she said, a nervous pulse jumping in her throat.

“Eden!” Sarah Brigg’s voice came over the connection. “Listen, I hated having to cancel our game last week. Holiday stuff came up. Let’s get together next week sometime. I know this week is crazy with you getting ready for the board meeting.”

“Yes, it is crazy. And next week sounds good for racquetball.” Eden swallowed against the dryness in her mouth, a sick relief flooding over her. Every time the phone rang, she jumped with guilt. Not Michele calling this time. Not Wendi. Not Alex, either. Cheryl would have screened him out, of course.

She took a breath and pinned a smile on her tight face hoping some semblance of normalcy would leak through the phone line. “Next week will be great, Sarah.”

“Terrific,” the older woman said crisply. “Listen, that’s not the only reason I’m calling. I have something I need to tell you. I want you to be prepared for some fireworks at the board meeting on Wednesday.”

Eden frowned immediately. Had Sarah heard something? Surely Alex didn’t go directly to Sol or the other board members. “What kind of fireworks?”

“Well,” Sarah laughed, “nothing bad, really. I’ve been talking to Sol Klineman and Dave Sanders, and we’re seeing the need to make some changes in the company.”

Feeling lightheaded with fear and having difficulty focusing, Eden said, “Changes?”

“Yes,” the older businesswoman said, “I know there are a few board members who routinely back all of Michele’s recommendations, so there’s nothing for certain, but I think you should be running this company.”

Eden swallowed and tried furiously to think. This was it. The CEO position being offered to her. She needed to say something, anything.

She struggled to find an appropriate response. Her brain didn’t seem present in the conversation. They were giving her the company to run. Making her CEO! What the hell did she say? Did she demur for appearances sake? Say something about loyalty to Michele just so she didn’t look grasping?

Did she thank Sarah or did that sound too wimpy? Or did some form of “about damn time” seem too offensive?

“Did you hear what I said?” Sarah Briggs demanded.

“Yes,” Eden replied, deciding to go with her genuine reaction. “I’m just trying to decide how to express my thankfulness that we’re all in agreement on who should run the company. At least, you, Dave Sanders, Sol Klineman and me.”

Sarah laughed. “I think a few others will get on board. Listen, start getting together your ideas on what needs to be changed at Michele Cosmetics, other than the CEO. You want to sound smart on Wednesday.”

“Yes, I do,” Eden agreed, her head buzzing and dizzy. “I’ll definitely have a few things to say.”

She put the phone down in the cradle, a strange dull feeling enveloping her.

She’d won. They were giving her the job. With the two most powerful board members backing her, the job was as good as hers.

Everything she’d worked for all these years…sacrificed for these past few months. All the hard work. All the scheming.

She couldn’t seem to absorb it. Exhaustion, probably. And a certain amount of shock.

There was dancing to be done and celebrating…but she just didn’t have the energy.

Instead, she broke down and cried.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Thunk!
The blue racquetball slammed against the court wall bouncing immediately back at Eden. Raising her racquet just in time, she deflected the ball and shifted into position to meet it again as it ricocheted off the far wall.

Whump.
The ball came back at her and she swung again, sending it off in another direction. Any direction. It didn’t matter.

Alone in the white cube that was the racquetball court, she met and slammed the ball back, over and over. Giving each swing every ounce of her power, she drove the springy blue ball away again and then again. But it always came back, as tireless and merciless as all the crap in her life.

Her arm ached. She’d have bruises, she knew, from the misses when the ball
thonged
against her body, not to mention from her own wavering swing that had brought the racquet up against her calf twice already.

The two other courts lined up next to this one were empty and silent, the high bright lights illuminating the early morning hours when most members of the twenty-four hour fitness club were wisely asleep in their beds.

They had easy lives, Eden decided, swinging the racquet viciously.
Thunk!
Lives where others didn’t depend on them to keep large companies running and paychecks coming in. Perhaps they had clear consciences or none at all. Either would be easier than the struggle that kept her sleepless and oppressed.

After spending another nerve-wracking day dodging Alex’s calls and cringing from the sound of Michele’s voice in the hall, she’d finally had to leave the office early. She knew Alex’s response to her challenge would be staged at the board meeting, not ten hours away.

There seemed little question that he’d decided to conduct their showdown at the meeting since she’d evaded his attempts to contact her. Eden knew that tomorrow she’d be vilified and accused of every wrong-doing he could even partially substantiate. Maybe a few he couldn’t.

She’d seen the anger blazing in his eyes the other night in his office.

Whump.
Her racquet met the blue ball with decreasing force. She ached all over, her lungs burning, her legs like rubber. But she stood meeting the ball with every ounce of her strength. Perhaps complete physical exhaustion would bring rest and the blessing of unconsciousness.

Thunk!

What choice did she have? She had to keep moving. It did no good to think about Alex or what she could have—should have—done. Her mind was a wheel in a gerbil’s cage, all circular squeaky repetition. She’d been over and over it. There was no path but the one she was on. No choices but the ones she’d already made.

Put a knife in Michele’s back—
squeak, squeak went the wheel in her
head —she knifed you first. Lie and lie again to Alex—
squeak, squeak
—she didn’t owe him anything—squeak
, squeak
—regardless of how her heart ached. She had no choice.
How many times had she been round and round it?

Eden slashed at the ball
, whump
,
slamming it hard against the wall.

Thunk!