Rose of Betrayal (13 page)

Detesting the lack of professionalism
in anyone, Somers attitude sparked Brad's temper. “Bring the proposals to
me.
 
Have Ms. Thorpe get Mr. Somers on
the phone immediately.”

Wearing a satisfied smile, Stacy
croaked, “Yes Sir.” Somewhat abated, she quickly returned to Ted's office
feeling confident that Brad would handle the situation.

           
Noticing
Maggie waiting at his office door with a cup of hot coffee brought relief to
Brad’s face.
 
How she knew just when he
would arrive each day, was puzzling.
 
Smiling reassuringly, she handed him his favorite cup then quietly
closed the door.
 
As she waited
patiently, the large winged chair facing Brad’s desk swallowed her short chunky
frame.
  

           
Sipping
his steaming brew, Brad approached a wall of glass to survey Central Park.
 
The day was almost over and he had just
arrived.
 
While others wallowed in the
pleasures of their families and settled down to make love, he would be in his
office muddling through the day's catastrophes, a nocturnal habit that for some
sick reason kept his sanity.
 
The stacks
of proposals scattered on his massive desk required total concentration,
impossible while trying to resolve complaints from office staff and returning
incessant phone calls.
 

           
He
could not remember the last time he had a woman, he reflected, why, on earth,
such a thought came to mind, baffled him.
   
Lung’s sucking in spoiled oxygen closed his eyes briefly.
 
Upon reopening them, for the first time he
noticed the leaves on the tree's boasting a kaleidoscope of color's, the sunset
adding to their radiance against the cloudless blue sky, the color of Sam's
eyes.
 
 

           
Pinching
his lids with his forefinger and thumb, endeavoring to dismiss Sam's vision allowed
concentrating on the scene before him.
 
Horses hitched to carriages along the curb-awaited lovers.
 
The park was alive with its usual occupants,
joggers, roller bladder’s, and bench potatoes either feeding pigeons or simply
soaking up the autumn air.
  
There were
people walking dogs, moms, and dads with children in hand.
 
Between the tree's, a patrol car waiting for
a possible assailant, a sight making him
 
question why he continued to reside in such a
 
hell hole of a city.
  

           
Gnawing
at him, reminding him of the stiffness in the back of his neck was the yearning
to leave the stuffy office to take a walk with Sam.
 
His right hand stretched up to massage the
tight muscles in an attempt to rub out the soreness from previous days of
leaning over the desk, and wandering thoughts of a half-pint cowgirl.

           
Fret
and concern creased Maggie's forehead.
 
Brad looked fatigued.
 
He had lost
weight and had misplaced his typical full-of-hell disposition.
 
In ten years working as his secretary, she
never saw him look so exhausted.
 
Knowing
he was too proud to lean on anyone, she stifled attempts to pry.
 
Besides, she knew who the culprit was.
 
How she would like to take a switch to Ted's
behind she thought, as she had done to her four children.

           
Maggie
loved Brad.
 
He had a magical way of
boring his way into everyone's heart.
 
Memories came flooding of his concern during her major surgery, his
influence in getting her son into college and financial support when she
divorced an abusive husband.
  
Joining
her family for many a meal, he spent hours playing with her children, and
whenever she was depressed, he was there with a kiss and reassuring hug.
  

           
Now
having watched him work diligently, tirelessly to build his empire, she
wondered if he would allow success to destroy him.
 
Concerns she kept to herself.
 
Instead, positioning herself next to him,
clasping his hand in hers she gave it a loving squeeze.

           
Turning,
Brad admired the woman of indeterminate age, her short pristine salt, and
pepper hair.
 
Maggie was a sweet,
sensible, attractive woman, to whom tact and discretion were second
nature.
 
Her tailored suits never saw a
wrinkle or showed her cleavage.
 
She
never reeked of perfume or wore a dab of makeup.
 
A head full of sense accented her wholesome
beauty.
 
His right arm, she was his
survival, and an everyday reminder of the mom he loved dearly and had not
visited in three years.
 
Silently he
questioned why he did not just go home.

Placing a finger beneath Maggie's
double chin, inching her face toward him, he asked, “Ready to get to work,
tiger?”

“Whenever you are boss.”

With a heart- melting wink, “Then
let's knock
em
dead.”
 

Brad no sooner sat than the phone
rang.
 
“Yes, Ms. Thorpe.”

“I have Mr. Somers on the phone sir.”

“Thanks put him through.
  
Excuse me a minute Maggie, will you,
Maggie’s cue to leave.
 

           
Whenever
Brad was about to blow, he never wanted her tender ears within hearing
distance.
 
Obviously, he was unaware that
his voice echoed throughout the office.
   
When
the door latched, Brad began calmly, “Mr. Somers, Mr. Johnson here.
  
I understand you have been trying to contact
Mr. Peterson.”

Extremely irritated, Somers retorted,
“What, in hell kind of company are the two of you running?
 
I've been trying to reach Ted for days.”

“I believe Ms. Phillips informed you
Mr. Peterson has been out of the office.
 
Is there something I can do?”

           
“You,
I have been his client for five years.
 
He is fucking up a multimillion-dollar deal.
 
If that bitch in heat got off his lap long
enough to take regular dictation, maybe he would get some work done.”

           
Summer’s
vulgar insinuation scorched Brad.
 
“I'd
appreciate it, Mr. Somers, if you would mind your manners whenever referring to
an employee of my company.”

“Don't tell me you're screwing her
too?”

In a desperate attempt
to remain civil, breathing deeply Brad raised his voice a notch.
 
“Ms. Phillips is a secretary and that is
all.
 
I am the one who prepares the
proposals.
 
If you have any questions, I
am well aware of every minute detail.
 
If
you'd like to come to my office we can settle this matter with no further
delay.”

Laughing robustly, Somers continued,
“Pray tell you don’t know Ted's been pumping his secretary.”

           
Apprised of exactly what went on in Ted's
office, Brad was embarrassed that someone else knew, the very idea brought
color to his face and erupted his temper.
 
“Apparently Ms. Phillips is more prudent than the multimillion dollar
Keller deal you have mentioned.
 
What did
she do, Mr. Somers, refuse to go down on you?
 
Or, could it be that you are accustomed to screwing everyone and assume
they lower themselves to your level.”
 

Brad’s comments hit a
nerve, like a dentist with a drill.

Somers blustered,
“You know damn well your partner nails everything in skirts.
 
You've got balls speaking to me that way.”

“Big ones, Mr.
Somers.”

“Do you have any idea
who you're fucking with, Mr. Johnson?"

“A vulgar piece of
shit in a business suit, I presume.
 
No
wonder your business is crumbling.”

           
Seething, Somers lurched forward in
his chair gulping the remaining whiskey in his glass.
 
“You will regret this conversation, Mr.
Johnson.
 
If you and your partner know
what's good for you you'll have him call me, pronto.”

           
Punctuating each word, Brad's vocal
chords strained to the max, “You of all people will not intimidate me or my
partner with threats or vulgarities.
 
What affects him affects me.
 
When
you wish to discuss the Keller matter as a man, you may call my secretary for
an appointment.
 

           
“Allow me to make myself
emphatically clear, Mr. Somers.
 
If you
dare to raise your voice or utter another vulgarity to any of my employee’s, I
will personally take great pleasure in shoving the Keller deal up your ass.
 
You see Mr. Keller is a friend.
 
A master of persuasion, it would take me
diminutive effort to influence him to invest elsewhere.
 

           
“Unless you discuss this matter with
me, there is no deal and if I understand correctly, Mr. Somers, unless I use my
expertise to persuade Mr. Keller, there is no Somers Construction Company.
 
Have we come to a conclusion, sir?”

“You bastard!”

“Yes, sir, I am.
 
Good day, sir.”

Feeling somewhat
rejuvenated, Brad slammed the phone into its cradle thinking same shit,
different day.

           
Brad’s words reached every crevice
in the office.
 
Employees froze were they
were, others sat motionless at their desks?
 
Eyes twinkling, snickering from extreme pleasure, their glance found
Maggie’s, her reprimanding look circling the office jerked them from their
moment of glory.
 

           
Maggie waited what she deemed an
appropriate length of time before reentering Brad's office.
 
He was leaning back in his chair, hands
behind his head, feet propped on his desk, a smirk tilting the corner of his
mouth.
 
Having not seen that devilish
grin in sometime, it squeezed her heart.
 
If anyone could knock a stool from under someone’s feet, her Brad could,
she mused with a smile.
 
Somers had been
a scapegoat for his frustrations and the sparring obviously did wonders for his
constitution.
  

CHAPTER 12

“Susan!
 
Get your ass in here.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Somers right away, sir.”

Perpetually feeling anxious due to Mr. Somers high
expectations, leaping to her feet, Susan fumbled for her notebook managing to
spill a can of soda in the process.
 
Turning quickly caught her stockings on the edge of her chair causing a
run to creep up a long, svelte leg. “Dammit!
 
What a klutz,” she exclaimed.
 
Palms busy pressing the creases out of a black leather mini skirt, moved
to fluff long platinum hair.
 
A lanky
hourglass figure held erect sauntered into Somers office on three-inch
heels.
 

           
Out of secretarial
school for six months, Susan was jubilant when offered the executive
secretarial position at the Somers Construction Company.
 
Jobs were impossible to find in Manhattan let
alone keep, therefore, she would cope with anything, in particular Mr.
Somers.
 
The employment agency warned her
Mr. Somers went through secretaries like water, none lasting longer than six
weeks.
 
For the past three months, though
it had been a nightmare dealing with Somers foul mouth and roaming hands, there
was no alternative.
 
Choices were few for
a single mom trying to maintain a livelihood for herself and young daughter.

           
Sitting at his desk,
eyes fixed on the phone, in an odious mood Howard bellowed, “Who, in hell, does
that prick think he is.
 
I will make him
regret speaking to me that way.
 
Obviously the prick doesn't know who he's dealing with or the mess his
partner is in.”