by Jenn Hughes
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you can say after barging into my office and accusing me of being a homewrecker?” Lillian huffed. “I think something slightly more appropriate might have been, ‘Hi, Lillian. So nice to see you. Let’s put the past behind us, and thank you for being Richard’s friend since he and I are fundamentally incapable of working out our issues like normal adults.’”
Emily’s lips pursed so tightly she looked like the first stage of a shrunken head. Lillian waited for the bitchy comeback. The insult. Or another one of the weapons in Emily’s arsenal—her sister used ice water, but Lillian had to believe Emily preferred acid dripping from her claws.
But instead of launching into an attack, Emily flopped back into her chair and laughed. Normal laughter. Like an actual human being.
Strange. Has it developed normal human emotions? Or does it simply mimic them?
“God, Lillian,” she chuckled. “That is such a relief to hear. I’ve spent so many weeks worrying over this. Even planned my next moves to destroy you—”
“Wait. What?”
“—since I was most certainly not going to let you have him without a fight. And now to hear it was all a misunderstanding! How amusing!”
“No, Emily. Misunderstandings are when you order two deluxe burgers and three fries and the person taking your order argues that, since you’re alone, you can’t use the date-night combo coupon . . . Never mind. Bad example.”
Lillian took a deep breath and searched for the simplest, most rational response a dragon could understand. “Talk to Richard. Stop with the plans and schemes and ulterior motives and talk to him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants and find common ground . . . ”
Ouch. That arrow hit home.
Before Lillian could give much thought to plating the advice she dished out and serving it to herself, Emily rose from her chair. “I hate to admit it, but I think . . . No. I really do hate to admit it. So I won’t.” She turned and walked toward the door, but stopped short of opening it. “I assume you’re going to take Sam up on his offer?”
“What?”
Emily turned and pointed at the black invitation Lillian had dropped onto the desk. “That’s an invitation for the Christmas party. I approved the design. Sam doesn’t invite anyone other than employees or his dates, so which are you?”
“Um . . . Neither.”
“Are you sure?” Emily pointed at the flowers. “Gorgeous. French Lace roses are carried by one shop in town, and that shop also happens to be supplying all the floral arrangements for the party. Another approval of mine. So I don’t have to guess who those are from.”
“I hadn’t looked at the card, so I’m not—”
“Don’t play dumb. We both know they’re from Sam. I’m in charge of financial planning. Half our budget is spent on Sam’s apology flowers. So I’ll see you at the party, then?”
Lillian stared at the card nestled in the flowers. “I don’t think it would be a very good idea for—”
“You’re keeping a tall, dark, absolutely loaded drink of water like Sam Owens dangling? I underestimated you. We have more in common than I thought when it comes to making men suffer for love.”
Emily opened the door and slipped out of the office without a sound. It left Lillian in a strange vacuum, like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
It had been. That was Emily’s superpower. Lillian gasped when the air came rushing back in.
She reached over and plucked the little envelope from the bouquet. With a trembling hand and misty eyes, she read his beautiful, unexpected, and absolutely perfect note.
“Oh, Sam . . . ”
Lillian didn’t want to have anything in common with Emily. She didn’t want to be the type of woman to keep a good man on the line, making them both miserable in the process.
Almost nothing stood in their way now. Jacinda Shields was apparently out of the picture. Preston couldn’t threaten Lillian with firing her from a job she didn’t have or want. The only thing barring a path to potential happiness was . . .
Me.
Chapter 26
Farewell Finland
Lillian slammed the silverware drawer shut.
Right. On. Her. Finger.
The sharp, searing pain forced out a squeal. She jerked her finger away and inspected the damage. Pain. Redness. But probably no bruise. A broken nail, though. The corner had been bent and torn, leaving a gap in the otherwise perfect nail.
A gap, right in the middle.
Sort of like an unbuttoned shirt.
Unbuttoned, skin exposed, and Sam’s lips on her—
“Damn it!”
At home and officially unemployed, Lillian had spent several hours debating over what to do. She’d gotten nowhere fast. Sam Owens occupied all her thoughts. He is so selfish.
She knew she should forget about him. Give in to the logic of probability. Sam would probably break her heart before Valentine’s. He would probably have a line of women waiting to take her place. And she would probably end up devastated.
The smallest probability for getting hurt involved forgetting Sam and his invitation. The least amount of risk. Definitely the way to go.
She shook her head and swirled her wine at a furious pace, sloshing a bit over the side and finally deciding all she needed was a little mind-numbing TV to forget about her problems. In the living room, she dropped onto the sofa, turned on the TV, and then selected a new channel with no chance of bringing up thoughts of Sam Owens—the dog channel.
It was one of those channels people left on throughout the day to entertain their dogs, and it worked perfectly for about fifteen minutes. Lillian watched a man throwing a tennis ball, and then the view from a car window. But when a group of pups came bounding onto the screen, a fluff-ball of a Siberian husky had the brightest blue eyes . . .
TV off.
Sam’s invitation stared back at her from the coffee table. At least it didn’t have blue eyes. She picked it up and rubbed the linen paper between her fingers. The gold lettering, specifically the RSVP request at the bottom, beckoned.
“Honestly,” Lillian said, setting her wine on the table. “Why do I even have to make up my mind right now?”
She didn’t have to trust Sam to attend the Origin Christmas party. He had only, basically, asked for a chance at proving himself to her and if she blew him off, she knew she’d regret it for the rest of her life. Maybe he had changed. Maybe they both had. Lillian smiled.
Maybe I need to have a little bit of fun for once and let whatever happens, happen.
An exclusive, black-tie party sounded fun. The once or twice Lillian had put forth the effort to look sensational, it had made her feel fantastic. And not because of who stood next to her. Or who looked at her. She felt good because she liked what she saw in the mirror.
Too bad the number of ball gowns in her wardrobe currently numbered at zero. If she wanted to go to the Christmas party, she had to look like Cinderella—and that required an expert fairy god-sister.
“I’m painting my nails this gorgeous black—Midnight Raven—so you’re on speaker, but I’m alone so no big deal, say whatever,” Tessa informed her, answering in two rings and a slightly distracted voice.
Lillian let out her held breath, then dove in. “I’m going to ask you for something, and I don’t want you to scream or get all dramatic.”
Tessa groaned. “Okay . . . Fine. Yes. I’ll admit it. The last time I was there, I borrowed your diamond tennis bracelet. It just looks soooo good on me—”
“That has nothing to do with . . . You stole my bracelet?”
“To say I stole it is harsh, Lil. I borrowed. I’ll give it back the next time I see you. Along with your cashmere sweater. I thought it would fit when I took it, but it’s two si
zes too large and it hangs—”
It was Lillian’s turn to groan. “Ugh, Tessa. Stop. Let me spit this out.” Silence filled the line. “I need a makeover.”
Tessa didn’t have to say a word. Lillian could practically hear her sister’s internal joyful screaming. Pure, happy energy humming on the line. But when Tessa finally spoke, her voice was unusually calm and professional.
“And when would you be in need of said makeover?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll fly down and stay a couple of days—”
And then it hit. The squealing nearly shattered Lillian’s eardrum, but still made her smile.
“Oh, Lil! I’m soooo happy! So, what are we going for here? Total makeover? Makeup, hair, nails, clothes—the works?”
“Yes, but within reason. I’m going to a black-tie office party, so I need an evening gown . . . You know that white dress Empress Leah wore in Quasar—”
“Yes. And no. Leah pulled off that look, but no one else can. The white will wash you out. You need cleavage. And color. Gorgeous vivid color to make you sparkle like that planet that exploded in the beginning. What was it called?”
“Elderan. And that was really sad, there were millions of people—”
“Okay, sure, whatever. You were always into those movies way more than me. So, now that it’s settled you’re not covering up in a white robe, what else?”
“I suppose you can work on my hair color and nails tomorrow, but I need you to come here on the eighteenth for styling and makeup. Will that work?”
“Totally. I’ll rearrange a couple of things and . . . Yes. For you, anything. You’re going to look ah-mazing. Sam will drool.”
“I’m not exactly going with Sam. It’s complicated, so we’ll see what happens.” A massive huff made Lillian pull back the phone. “I thought I was on speaker. What are you doing, leaning over the phone and blowing into it to make your point?”
“Actually, yeah. But . . . I’m not even, Lil. Not. Even. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”
“No. Deal’s off if I have to talk about anything other than what I want to wear and how I want to look. Please trust me. I know what I’m doing. I don’t have to go to a party with anyone to have a good time. Maybe I’m going for me, and if something great comes out of it . . . Well, that would be nice.”
“Nice?” Tessa sighed. “I’ll shut up about it, if only to get you here. This is going to be so much fun. I promise you’ll love it, and it will only hurt a little. Unless you need waxing and then it will hurt a lot.”
Lillian talked with Tessa for a few more minutes. She agreed to try a base hair color called Cashmere Cub. It sounded more like a child’s toy than hair color. Then Tessa chattered on about blush and nail polish and foundation for twenty minutes. It was like listening to a surgeon describe a procedure to a patient.
The more Lillian thought about the party, the more the thought of seeing Sam again put a knot at the base of her throat. He was perfect until he wasn’t, and she had no clue which version she’d meet. Hopefully perfect. At least long enough for Lillian to let herself fall. And trust. And overcome the past.
~ ~ ~
“You swore on your life you’d be here by noon. Now you have to die, sis.” Tessa deadpanned as she stood in the doorway of her apartment wearing black tights and Lillian’s white cashmere sweater.
A full-on drama queen at nine in the morning. But the drama comforted Lillian, and she certainly needed some comfort after the bumpy flight from Port Bristol to NYC.
“I smell hot wax. I know I’m going to die,” Lillian said with a grin.
Tessa squealed. She threw her arms around Lillian, and then pulled her into the tiny loft apartment like a sea creature reeling in its prey. “I’m so happy you’re finally here!”
Lillian gave her a big squeeze back, and then pried herself out of Tessa’s grasp. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her sister’s latest choice of color. “You’ve gone blond again? I thought I was having the makeover.”
Tessa reached up and curled a strand of platinum blond hair around her finger. “You are. I got bored with brown. See, this is what happens when you make me wait so long to give you a makeover. Do you like it?”
“On you, yes. You’re gorgeous. On me, no way in hell.”
Tessa laughed. “Of course not on you. You don’t have the complexion to go Marilyn. Cashmere Cub would suit you best, at least as the base color.” She ran her fingers through Lillian’s hair. “But now I think we might go darker with red toning.”
“Whatever you say, but I need to set some ground rules,” Lillian said in her best big sister voice. “First, I want to find my dress. We’ll build from there. Second, I quit my job, so I have a limited amount of money to—”
“What! You quit? But I thought Mythos was supposed to be a big step up for you.”
Lillian took off her coat to buy a few precious seconds, keeping her back to Tessa to prevent her sister from catching sight of any uncertainty. If she did, she’d go after it like a shark after blood.
“I quit because I can’t work for Preston Lavery. It’s a long story but, basically, he stole something from Sam and then built his entire company around it. I won’t work for a criminal. I never fit in there anyway. It’s for the best. And I’m going to be fine, so don’t worry.”
“Okay, taking the moral high road, I get it. Power to the people and stick it to the Man. But what will you do now?”
That was the million dollar question—and a million dollars would have helped because Lillian didn’t have an answer to it. “I don’t know, but I can get another job. Maybe back in Boston. Maybe not even as an attorney. We’ll see.”
“And what about Sam?”
Lillian turned and plastered a smile on her face. “We’ll see. Anyway, I want to have some fun. Today, with you, and then at the party. I want my Cinderella moment before I turn into a homeless pumpkin.”
“Why would you be the pumpkin?”
“I don’t know. I’m hungry and that’s what came to mind. Stop being analytical. Let me pretend I’m a pumpkin preparing to be transformed into a princess.”
Tessa frowned. “Okay. But what about money? You’ve come to the most expensive city in the world to shop, and you’ve quit your job . . . I have some extra cash from that last photo shoot—”
“I’m not destitute—I have savings. And I had money set aside for something special, so that will cover my dress and whatever torture devices I’ll need. Body-shaping underwear? Please say no.”
Tessa grinned, her head tilting to the side. “Something special, hmmm? What is it? Jewelry?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Tell me. I love stupid.”
Lillian rolled her eyes. “I wanted to visit Finland in the winter and do some skiing, so this is probably a good thing. I’d most likely end up breaking my legs anyway. If I want to go somewhere cold, I’ll stop by Neptune’s and ask to stand in the freezer.”
Tessa shook her head and sighed. Then she walked over and put her hands on Lillian’s shoulders. “I love you, and I think you’re brave as hell and I’m super proud of you.”
“You know, that’s what I think of you. You moved to New York on your own and followed your dreams. I’m proud of you, and I love you, too. Now let’s get to work.”
Chapter 27
No More Herding Nerdy Cats
Sam leaned back in his desk chair, his fingers digging into the padded leather arms to keep from grabbing Ravi Ganesh’s neck.
He’d managed to lure Ravi from his office with the lie that the entire cast of Galaxy Trek had stopped by for a tour of the company. It was harsh. And yes, Ravi’s lower lip trembled a little when Sam admitted the lie. But it was necessary.
Sam had thought getting Ravi out of his comfort zone might make him more pliable. Maybe more ope
n to suggestion, since his default answer when gaming was silence. But, after thirty minutes of arguing in circles, Sam had gotten nowhere.
Ravi sullenly stared back at him from one of the chairs in front of Sam’s desk. His worn jeans were smeared with a streak of what looked like dried pizza sauce, and his black-and-white plaid hoodie barely hid his I went outside once and the lag was terrible T-shirt. It was the most professional attire he’d seen Ravi wear in several years.
“Ravi, you have to wear a tux. The party is black tie. This is not a surprise.”
“I didn’t wear one last year, and I’m not wearing one this year.”
“You didn’t wear one last year because you lied to me and said you would and then showed up looking like someone in an eighties cop show set in Miami. It was passable, so I let it slide. Not this time.”
Ravi clenched his jaw. “You. Can’t. Make. Me.”
Sam folded his arms across his chest. “Three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year, you and everyone else wear whatever the hell you want. I saw Jamie Myers wearing swim trunks in his office one day this summer. When I asked him why, he said it was because he’d forgotten to do laundry. I get that you’re all children, but this is the one night everyone needs to play dress up and pretend to be adults. It’s good publicity. Do it for the company.”
Ravi gnawed on his chewing gum and sulked, his dark eyes twinkling in the white light from the windows behind Sam. “This is how dystopian fiction starts. Rules about what to wear and when. Anyway, black tie is lame.”
Sam rolled his head in a circle. Joints popped and ligaments stretched to release tension. At least that was the idea. But tension continued weighing on him like a ton of bricks.
He glared at Ravi. Even though he loved the guy like a brother, Ravi irritated him to no end sometimes. All the time, lately. Sam had started feeling the strain of shouldering the work and dealing with business details so Ravi could work his creative magic. And it was exhausting.
