Sweeter Than Revenge (8 page)

The bang of a door and swish of approaching nylon alerted them to someone’s presence, and they looked up in time to see Kwasi’s aspiring girlfriend appear around the corner in her yellow blouse. Surveying the situation in Maria’s office, the woman’s eyes narrowed into feline slits. What was her name? Now was Maria’s chance to make nice—wouldn’t Daddy be glad to hear that?—and put together a little pub party.

Maria tacked a wide smile onto her face. “Hi,” she said, ignoring the woman’s growing frown. “Kwasi and I were just talking about getting some people together for a drink after work and—”

The woman’s return smile was every bit as fake as Maria’s. “Gre-eeat,” she said, then turned her still-frigid gaze on Kwasi, who gulped audibly.

“I’m so sorry,” Maria told the woman, “but I don’t know your name.”

“Shelley,”the woman said through a one-millimeter slit between her tight lips.

Squatting down in an obvious attempt to get out of Shelley’s line of fire, Kwasi fumbled with the cords. “Uh-oh, Maria. Looks like you need a longer cable here, if you want to move the computer to the other side of the desk when your battery’s low. I’ve got an extra one. Be right back.”

He left, but Shelley transferred her glare to Maria and showed no signs of leaving. The silence grew awkward. Remembering her father’s advice about trying to make friends, Maria decided to give it a shot.

“So…Shelley…would you like to get a drink with us or—”

“Let’s get something straight.” Shelley’s tight warning smile negated her pleasant, conversational tone, and she stepped closer until she stood deep inside Maria’s personal space.

Maria blinked and wondered if she was about to get her ass kicked.

“I know you’re the boss’s daughter, okay, and you don’t have to do any work, and that’s all fine and good—” Shelley began.

Maria started to splutter, outraged at this inaccurate appraisal of her fledgling career.

“—but you stay away from Kwasi, or else we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

Maria gaped, momentarily too flabbergasted to speak. She tried not to laugh, wondering how Kwasi, who was surely the biggest computer geek within a five-mile radius, had wound up at the center of Shelley’s fantasy love triangle.

“Don’t worry,” she said.

“So don’t go shaking your tail feathers at him.”

Maria’s good humor evaporated. “Excuse me?”

“Just so we’re clear.”

Thoroughly irritated now, Maria gave up the whole pipe dream about befriending this yellow-wearing woman and pointed a finger in Shelley’s face. “I was notshaking any tail feathers at Kwasi—”

“Don’t even try it.” Snarling, Shelley opened her mouth for what was sure to be a huge rant.

Before she could give it to Maria with both barrels, though, they heard the heavy hall door bang again and then Kwasi reappeared in the doorway.

“Got it,” he said, waving a cable.

Oblivious to his role in the unfolding drama, he took his seat again and went to work on the computer while the women glared at each other in silence. Then the hall door banged again.

David materialized with a two-foot stack of files under his arm, further crowding the tiny office and bringing with him a front of cold, negative energy, as if a thundercloud and a couple bolts of lightning had just walked into the room. Maria forgot all about poor Shelley and her heartbreak as his hostile, assessing gaze slid around the office.

When David saw her laptop, his jaw tightened infinitesimally. His gaze, frigid now, flickered to Kwasi. “Can I see you in my office?” he asked, his voice pleasant, low and unmistakably dangerous. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Kwasi glanced up, looking bewildered and vaguely alarmed. “Sure.” He started off, and then glanced back over his shoulder at Maria. “So…drink, then, or—”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Maria said quickly, wishing Kwasi would tune in to a few environmental cues around him and keep his big mouth shut.

Kwasi left. Shelley turned to follow him.

“Hang on a minute, Shelley,” David said, and Shelley stopped, hovering in the doorway.

He seemed reluctant to look Maria in the face, but finally did. “Maria.”

Maria braced herself for the coming storm. Whatever happened, though, she was determined not to react, to give him any more of her energy or to care.

“Is there something you need?” she asked pleasantly.

“Well,” he said, eyeing the thick stack of unfiled files on the edge of her desk, “it’s a good thing I didn’t need these filed right away, huh?”

Wincing, she tried to remain professional and to ignore Shelley’s wide-eyed interest. Maybe she should have done the filing and thencleaned her office, Maria thought, but really, those files weren’t going anywhere. Why bother getting all worked up about them? “I’m going to get to those as soon as I straighten up my office a little.”

His cool, bland mask of a face revealed nothing. “Of course,” he said in a scathing tone that, when translated, probably meant bullshit.

“Unless you need it done sooner…?”

A feral smile twisted his mouth and he waved a hand, dismissing her offer. “Oh, no. Don’t strain yourself. I’m just glad to hear you doplan to do somework sometimethis pay period.”

Her face heated up, and now she was all too aware of Shelley’s smug, satisfied grin. “Well, the filing system here takes a little getting used to,” she began, a total lie considering she’d been used to putting things in alphabetical order since kindergarten, “and I—”

“Oh, don’t bother,” he said, leaning against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankle. “I know how busy—”

His jeering emphasis on the word made her cheeks burn with irritation, but she said nothing.

“—you’ve been, what with…What, exactly, have you done since Anastasia left, Maria?”

Not much, really, but of course she’d never admit it to him.She drew herself up and prepared a defense, but he didn’t seem to want to hear it.

“Never mind.” His eyes glinted, throwing off shocking sparks of frigid light, like the sun shining on a glacier. “We both know you haven’t done anything since then, so let’s pretend you’ve already given me some lame excuse and just skip ahead to the next part, okay? Oh, and by the way—” he placed his stack of files on top of the existing stack on Maria’s desk “—here’s some more files for you. I need them done by the end of the day, okay?”

Maria gaped, first at the files, then at him.

“I knew I could count on you,” he said. “After you’re done with the filing, I have one more thing for you to do.”

“What do you want?” she snarled, wondering what other misery he had in store for her, her voice rising several octaves despite all her best efforts not to lose her temper.

The room’s energy shifted suddenly, and David smiled, brightening a little until he looked almost happy—as though the sight of her coming unglued was what he’d needed to turn his mood around.

“This is your lucky day, Maria.” David pushed off from the wall, sauntered over, leaned a hip on the edge of her desk and beamed at her like a benevolent king granting her a title. “I’ve reconsidered. Even though it’s your first day and you’re woefully unqualified, you arethe boss’s daughter, so you deserve special consideration around here.”

Maria froze, wondering what new punishment he had planned for her; Shelley’s mouth dropped open in outrage.

“So I’m going to go ahead and make it official. Congratulations. You’re the firm’s newest account executive. You start tomorrow, with Anastasia’s interview with USA Every Day.”

While Maria tried to think what, exactly, was the luckypart about that pronouncement, Shelley cleared her throat and stepped forward.

“Excuse me, David,” she said sweetly, bearing no resemblance to the woman who’d gladly have knocked out several of Maria’s front teeth not five minutes ago, “but I’mthe most senior account assistant. I’ve been here for twenty-two months. Ishould be next in line to move up to account executive.”

David turned to her, looking apologetic and sincere. “I know,” he said gently. “You’re one of our best and brightest, and you have a very promising future here. But it’s Maria’s turn right now. Your turn will come soon. Okay?”

Maria could tell by Shelley’s flaring nostrils and pursed lips that this turn of events was definitely notokay, but Shelley took it like a woman. “Okay,” she said.

“Great,” David said. “Thanks.”

With this dismissal, Shelley left, but not before shooting one last virulent glare at Maria, and Maria suddenly understood David’s brilliant strategy. In one fell swoop, he’d given her a client from hell, a project for which she didn’t have the slightest qualifications and made Maria the most hated woman in the office.

He really was brilliant. Ruthless and brilliant.

If Maria knew anything at all about office politics, Shelley was now complaining to all the other little account assistants, and by the end of the day, Maria would no doubt be getting death threats. In this undeclared war between them, David had just stepped up the conflict and brought out the equivalent of a biological weapon.

Their gazes locked, and the glittering, unrelenting look on David’s face said it all.

Gotcha.

“See you at home,” David told her.

“Wonderful.”

As he strode out, she heard his low, wicked laugh.

Chapter 8

Passing the kitchen on his way back to his office, David saw Kwasi standing near the coffeemaker, reaching for a mug. He didn’t much care for Kwasi—irritation prickled the back of his throat whenever he saw the brother—and he couldn’t quite figure out why. Kwasi had certainly bent over backward and done everything but backflips since David took over the office, he was a good account assistant and his work ethic and product were outstanding. Yeah, Kwasi had made eyes at Maria, but that had nothing to do with it. Anyway, blaming Kwasi for being attracted to Maria would be like blaming a moth for being attracted to a flame.

Still, he wouldn’t have the man coddling her and making her job easier. Knowing Maria, she’d pull a Tom Sawyer and have him handling all her paperwork and chores and, hell, fetching coffee for her, too. Yes, he and Kwasi needed to get a couple things straight. Immediately.

He strode into the kitchen and up to the counter, grabbed his own mug and clapped Kwasi on the back with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

“Kwasi.”

Startled, Kwasi sloshed coffee onto his fingers and yelped. “David!” He slammed the pot back down and it hissed on the burner. He reached for a paper towel to wipe up the mess. “I was just on my way to your office, man.”

“Oh.”

David sized him up and decided he wasn’t much competition, not, of course, that they were competing for anything. Kwasi was very bright and had a few letters after his name, but he was scrawny and more than a little nerdy. And as far as David could tell, he didn’t have two cents to rub together. Not that money was important.

“We don’t need to go to my office,” David said, pouring his own cup. “We just have one small thing to clear up.”

“Oh, okay.” Kwasi threw the paper towel away and added sugar to his coffee. “What’s up?” he asked, ever the bright-eyed busy beaver.

Annoyed again, David strove for nonchalance. “It’s about Maria.” He added a generous dollop of cream to his coffee and held the tiny pitcher out to Kwasi. “Cream?”

“No, thanks, I don’t—”

David ignored him and poured so much cream into Kwasi’s mug that the dark rich Columbian brew wound up the color of peanut butter. Kwasi made a dismayed noise, but didn’t complain. Feeling slightly better, David thunked the cream back on the serving tray.

“You see,” he said, stirring his coffee and not bothering to look at Kwasi, “I like to think of Maria as my own personal project. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I, uh…” Kwasi stammered.

David laid a heavy hand on Kwasi’s thin shoulder and propelled him through the kitchen door and down the hallway. “That means I’llhandle Maria.”

“Handle?”

“I’llbe her point person. I’llget her anything she needs. So if Maria has computer trouble, I’llhelp her. Maria needs help with paperwork, I’m the man. Maria drops a paperclip on yourfoot, youcall meto come pick it up. Call me at night, call me on my cell phone, call me in Kathmandu. In fact, maybe the best thing for you to do would be to pretend Maria Johnson doesn’t even exist. You feel me?”

That exasperating, enthusiastic light finally went out of Kwasi’s eyes as understanding set in. His face fell, but to his credit he recovered right away and managed a weak smile. “You’re the boss.”

Damn straight, he was the boss. Well. Maybe Kwasi wasn’t so terrible after all. Grinning, his mood lighter than it’d been in what seemed like a thousand years, David thumped Kwasi on the back again and sent him on his way.

By the time Maria pulled into the driveway at six-thirty that evening, the longest, most stressful day of her life, exhaustion had set in. Thank goodness the whole post-work drink plan had fallen through, leaving her free to come home and think. Not that she didn’t need a drink of some kind—a double shot of something potent, like strychnine, would be good right about now. But she’d settle for some chardonnay.

Driving home with the top down had been a good idea; the fresh air had cleared some of the fog from her brain, but she still felt like she’d been hit with a freight train. She rotated her shoulders in tiny circles, trying to work some of the tension out of her back and neck. As for the invisible vise grip that’d tightened around her temples hours ago, she’d need about eight Tylenol tablets to get rid of it.

In her twenty-seven-plus years on the planet, she’d probably had worse days than this one, but she couldn’t remember any of them at the moment.

Working, it turned out, was infinitely harder than lounging by the pool, even if the work was mindless drudgery, like filing and fetching coffee. A few laps in the pool, a shower, and some of Miss Beverly’s home cooking would go a long way toward making her feel better, assuming, of course, that she didn’t run into David again tonight.

Some strange flatbed truck sat right in front of the house, occupying a big chunk of the circular driveway. Luckily, there was space to navigate around it, so Maria parked her car in between her father’s Range Rover and Mercedes sedan. She’d just grabbed her purse and climbed out, arching her back this way and that to work out some of the kinks, when she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye.

Her father stood next to one of the enormous white pillars on the porch, talking to some gray-haired, grizzled guy wearing a blue jumpsuit and holding a clipboard. Their wary expressions as she walked up the drive toward them gave her a funny feeling.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, stepping onto the porch. “What’s going on?”

“Oh…not much, Sugar.” Ellis didn’t quite meet her gaze.

“Car trouble?” Maria asked.

The strange man snorted back a laugh. Ellis nodded. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“This it?” the man said, waving at Maria’s car.

“Uh…yeah,” Ellis said, dropping a set of keys into the man’s outstretched hand.

Grunting, the man strode off toward the truck, started the engine and, with his elbow and head hanging out the window as he looked over his shoulder, began to back it toward Maria’s car.

Maria’s funny feeling exploded into full-blown alarm. She rounded on Ellis, her pulse thundering in her throat. “What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice loud and shrill.

Ellis cleared his throat. “Well, now, Sugar, you remember yesterday when I told you I wanted you to get a job and I wanted you to work hard.”

“Yeah? So?”

Distracted, Maria watched as the man flipped a switch or two and some sort of platform lowered, with a low rumble, from the end of the truck bed to the ground.

“Well,” Ellis said, “I don’t really think showing up an hour late for your first day of work qualifies as working hard. Didn’t I tell you there’d be consequences?”

The man got out of the truck and walked back to Maria’s car, unlocking her doors with the remote.

“What’s that got to do with my car?” Maria shrieked.

Ellis took a deep breath. “I sold it.”

Aghast, Maria stared at her father, and he met her gaze sadly. Her thoughts swirled and tumbled through her head, socks in the dryer of her mind. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Daddy, the man who’d raised her, loved her and granted her every whim for her entire life would not just up and sell her precious car—the car he’d given her for her twenty-fifth birthday—just because she’d been a couple minutes late for work today.

“Noooo,” she moaned, feeling faint.

But then the car purred to life, snapping her out of her shock, and she ran to it, wanting to haul that awful, awfulman out of her driver’s seat by the arm.

Not the Jag.

“You stop that! Don’t you dare take this car!”

She threw her hands onto the indigo hood, which was still warm from the drive home, protecting it and stopping the man from driving it onto the platform.

“Hey!” the man shouted, but she didn’t care.

Glorious memories of the life they’d shared together, she and the Jag, ran through her mind. The day Daddy gave the beautiful Jaguar XK to her. The first time she sat on the buttery-soft leather seats that clung to her butt like a lover. The first time the touch screen with GPS navigated her out of an awful neighborhood when she got lost, the Dolby surround sound speakers, the endless drives in the country with the top down and the wind whipping through her hair and not a care in her mind. A girl and her car. Oh, the memories…the beautiful mem—

“Hey!” the man shouted again. “You gonna get off the car?”

Galvanized, Maria shoved away from the car and raced back to her father, who shrank back a little and watched her nervously. “Don’t do this, Daddy.”

“It’s for your own good, Sugar,” he said. “You need a little tough love.”

“It’s my car! You gave it to me!”

“The title’s in my name.”

“What’ll I drive?”

He shrugged and she wanted to slug him. “I don’t know. What can you afford on your salary at the firm?”

Maria roared with rage and wheeled away from Ellis, the instrument of all this torture. Apoplectic, she watched as the man drove the car onto the platform, got out and went back to the truck. Slowly the platform lifted, until her precious Jag was sitting on the truck bed like a seized drug dealer’s car on its way to auction.

She drew a deep breath, getting ready to shriek and yell, to throw a tantrum the likes of which her father had never seen, but before she could open her mouth, she became aware of a new sound—another car. Turning, she saw David pull up the driveway in his dark Audi sedan. He got out and surveyed the scene with a tight, dark expression. When his pitying gaze swung around to Maria, her humiliation was complete.

Divine grace, or something like it, descended upon her and suddenly she was in complete control. She would not throw a tantrum. She would not further embarrass herself in front of anyone—not her father, the stranger and especially not David. It was only a car. A car was not worth her dignity. She was bigger than this. She would figure something out.

Straightening, she squared her shoulders, held her head high, said a silent, heartfelt goodbye to her car and turned her back on it. Walking to the front door, she shot her father a final glare as she passed, and he winced. Then the knob was turning in her hand, and she was nearly home free.

There,she thought. That wasn’t so bad.

But then she heard the roar of the truck’s engine as it started back down the driveway, and horror lanced through her because she’d forgotten something critical. She spun around and tore after it on her four-inch heels, frantically waving her arms at the stupid driver, who either didn’t see or ignored her.

“Wait!” she screeched, willing to chase the truck to St. Louis if she needed to. “My iPod’s in there! It’s got all my Princeon it! Give me my iPod!”

David watched Maria rescue her iPod and then, without another word to anyone, raise her head high and march into the house with the dignity of Halle Berry sweeping across the stage to accept an Academy Award. When she’d quietly shut the door, he and Ellis exchanged glances. Ellis muttered something unintelligible, shook his head and opened the door after her. David climbed the few steps to the porch and followed him inside, too ambivalent to speak. Maria had already escaped upstairs to her room, and they heard the distant, gentle click of her door shutting. David felt a sickening lurch of disappointment to know she was gone.

Even worse, he felt sick at heart and he couldn’t figure out why.

Hadn’t he just witnessed a Kodak moment he’d waited years to see—Maria brought low, suffering and humiliated? Shouldn’t he be dancing with glee to see his plan fall so neatly into place? Less than forty-eight hours on the revenge job and already he’d played a major role in the loss of Maria’s luxury car. Now the pampered princess might well have to take the bus. What could be better? Why wasn’t he laughing his ass off?

Because nothing had changed, that’s why. All these years later and he still couldn’t stand to see Maria upset.

David trailed Ellis through the shadowy foyer and into the living room, where wonderful scents—meat loaf, maybe, and some sort of dessert with cinnamon in it—greeted them. On the other side of the swinging kitchen door, Miss Beverly sang absently and clanked pans as she finished getting dinner ready. They’d have a delicious meal soon, if he could work up an appetite. Lapsing into his thoughts, David tried to figure out exactly where and when his whole revenge plan had gone so horribly awry.

He’d come back to town as planned. Check. He’d confronted Maria, more or less kept his cool and hadn’t revealed how devastated he’d been when she’d married Harper. Check. He’d assigned her grunt work and tattled on her for being late, resulting in the loss of her car. Check and check. True, she’d outmaneuvered him on the whole Anastasia thing, but he’d recovered quickly and delivered a swift punishment when he gave her that godawful office and promoted her in front of Shelley. All in all, he’d had a pretty successful day on the revenge-o-meter.

So why hadn’t the yawning emptiness in the center of his chest gotten any better? Why did he now feel worse than he had when he’d first gotten back? Why couldn’t he get hold of his feelings for Maria?

David collapsed on the sofa and loosened his tie while Ellis went straight to the drink cart in the corner. In a minute he was back and, without a word, passed a tumbler of whiskey to David. David raised his glass in a silent salute, took a generous swallow and waited for the liquor to take the edge off his tension.