by Julia Harlow
“So how was your weekend, Ells?”
Ellen’s shoulders slumped, and she hesitated a moment before finally grumbling. “Willard called this morning. Again. He keeps threatening . . . I mean ‘suggesting’ that he wants to come out to visit me. Honestly, Bells, I don’t really want to see him. But he’s not well, and I get the impression he wants to make things right between us. And you.”
That last part made Isabel freeze. “What do you mean? Does he know I’m here?”
“Well, yeah, I guess I mentioned at some point that you were working in San Francisco and had helped me when I moved out here. I told him this morning that you’d moved in with me. He seemed really interested in coming out here to see us both before he gets any worse.”
At the mere thought of ever having to see Willard again, Isabel’s skin began to crawl and her stomach clenched. She managed to ask, “What do you mean ‘gets any worse’? What’s wrong with him?”
“You know he’s already had one heart attack, right? Well, he’s ignored all of his cardiologist’s orders to curb his horrible habits. I bet he’s still smoking, still eating a fatty diet, and still doesn’t exercise at all. To be perfectly honest, I think he has a death wish. Anyway, he really wants to visit us, and I couldn’t find it in me to say no.”
Isabel stomach started to churn. “So what did you tell him?”
“You know, Bells, I feel so guilty about not wanting to see him or my sisters. By the way, both of them are an epic mess. Susan is bi-polar and won’t stay on her meds. Bitsy joined some cult in Colorado and is basically lost to us all. So I caved and said he should look at some dates and let me know.”
~~~
It wasn’t until she was in her room, unpacked, and changed into a camisole and sleep shorts that she remembered the envelope. She’d been about to select an outfit for work tomorrow and review the assignments she was working on when she caught sight of it on her dresser. With a quick flick of her letter opener under the seal, she opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of printer paper and read the typewritten words:
Do you really think you got the position at Soter.com on your own merit? Well, think again. Just ask Ty Griffin how you got the job if you really want to know the truth.
Chapter 21
The words blurred before Isabel’s eyes. Ellen’s spinach lasagna churned in her stomach, making her feel as if she might throw up at any moment. Could she deny that somewhere deep in her subconscious mind she had feared that she hadn’t come by the job at Soter.com on her own, but that someone had pulled strings to secure the position for her?
The memory of the way Gloria Parnell had hesitated when she’d asked her about it suddenly came back to her. Her forehead felt clammy as nausea gripped her. She rushed into the bathroom, flipped up the toilet lid, and pulling her hair back, prepared to lose her dinner. Dry heaves racked her body, and the pressure caused tears to pool in her eyes, but when nothing came up, she slumped back against the bathtub.
It couldn’t be true, could it? Ty had hardly known her when Gloria told her she’d gotten the job at Soter. Why would he have intervened on behalf of someone he barely knew?
She tried to calm herself by logically examining who might have sent her this letter and what the motive might have been. Could it have been Madison Taylor? Who else would want to come between her and Ty Griffin more than Madison? And that woman was just a cruel enough witch to do something like this.
Saliva pooled in her mouth and clamminess overcame her again. She dropped the letter, gripped the sides of the toilet, and this time promptly threw up. After rinsing her mouth out with water at the sink, she sagged once again against the cool edge of the bathtub, cradling her head in her hands. The back of her neck and forehead were damp with perspiration and she was shaking. Even though her stomach still felt like a vise grip was wrenching it, she didn’t think she was going to throw up again. What could possibly be left in her stomach?
Wetting a washcloth with cold water from the tap, she headed back to the bedroom, stretched out on the bed, and placed the chilled cloth over her forehead. Should she simply ignore the letter? Could she?
She knew she couldn’t.
~*~
Ty was poring over a start-up company’s balance sheet at his desk at The Admiralty when his cell buzzed. Checking the display, he immediately grinned and answered it. “Hello, sweet thing. Miss me already?”
“I need you to answer a question.” Isabel’s voice sounded tight, as if she were forcing the words out between clenched teeth.
“Everything okay, Isabel? You sound strange.”
“Just answer this one question, Ty. Did you use your influence to get me the position at Soter.com? Yes or no?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck! He vaulted from the desk chair and started pacing from one end of his home office to the other. “It’s not what you think, Isabel.” The hand gripping the phone began to sweat as his neck muscles tightened into hard knots.
“Yes or no, Ty? It’s a simple question. Did you have anything to do with my landing the position at Soter?”
“Look. We need to talk about this. I’m coming over.” Panic welled up in him at the possibility of losing this woman. His heart began to pound faster than a rock drummer’s solo.
“Don’t bother. I won’t be here.” He heard the steeliness in her voice just before he heard the dial tone.
He was down the elevator and in the garage in less than two minutes. Of all his cars, the Mercedes had the most powerful engine, so he threw himself behind the wheel and roared out of the garage far faster than was safe. He was pissed off that he hadn’t bought that Lamborghini he’d test-driven two weeks ago. He struggled to strap on the seatbelt as he flew down California Avenue. It was well past eleven, and fortunately, there were only a few cars on the road.
How had Isabel found out that he might have had something to do with her job at Soter? No one involved would have told her, certainly not Kevin or Gloria Parnell. Who else knew about it? As he headed toward the Mission District, he decided to focus on what to say to her because it wasn’t important how she’d found out. What was important was doing everything he could to keep her. He barely noticed the red light ahead and slammed on the brakes. Christ!
His heart was thudding so hard in his chest he thought it might burst by the time he raced up in front of the loft. As he vaulted out of the car, he swiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
The first thing he heard after banging the flat of his hand against the door was Queenie’s high-pitched yips. When the door opened, he decided he would much rather have been face to face with Queenie than with Ellen, who stood there with an expression of sheer fury on her face.
“What did you do to her, you insufferable ass? How in the hell could you hurt a woman like Isabel? She’s one in a freaking million!” She shook her head at him in complete disgust, blond blades of hair flying across her cheekbones, her pale brows slammed together.
“Where is she, Ellen?” He adopted his most authoritative stance, pulling himself up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest.
“I don’t know. She left in a big rush.”
“Did she take Pilot with her?” He couldn’t help his voice cracking as he asked.
“Yes. And if you’ve done something to upset her, you’ll have to deal with me, and I can guarantee you it won’t be pleasant.”
Ty eyed the petite blonde in the doorway and didn’t doubt her for a minute. Whatever had gone on between her and Isabel in the past, he didn’t question that Ellen loved her now even more than she loved her biological sisters and would protect her at any cost.
“Did she happen to tell you I asked her to marry me today?”
That caused the little blond waif to shrink back. “Uh, no, she didn’t.”
“So you don’t know what’s going on?”
With an offhand shrug, she admitted, “Well, maybe not completely. But you’ve certainly effed up somehow.”
“I love I
sabel with all my heart. There’s been a misunderstanding. Help me clear it up. Please, tell me where she’s gone.”
Ellen’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. And that’s the truth.”
“Well, let me know if you find out where she’s gone. Please.”
~*~
If Isabel hadn’t been so rattled by the anonymous letter and in such a rush to leave before Ty arrived at the loft, she might have been able to think of someplace nearby to go other than Logan Chou’s—Logan had mentioned it to her often enough that he lived close to the loft. She might also have wondered why he hadn’t sounded the least bit surprised when she’d called him.
Logan said she and Pilot were welcome to stay with him for as long as she wanted. That was all that was important to her at that moment as she headed to the other end of the Mission District to Logan’s house. All she needed was someplace where Ty would never think to look for her.
Even though it was late and the foggy deserted streets with their eerie shadows gave her the creeps, she wasn’t too worried because she had Pilot to protect her. She’d thrown together a change of clothes, her laptop, a few toiletries, and Pilot’s food before rushing out of the loft. She needed to deal with Ty’s betrayal alone and in peace. There was absolutely no way she could handle seeing him right now.
Logan waited for her at the front door of his butter-yellow Italianate row house. She mounted the steps, saying, “Sorry if I kept you up too late, Logan. I really appreciate you letting me and Pilot stay here tonight.”
He grinned at her. “No problem, Isabel. This must be Pilot.” He held out his hand for the dog to sniff, but when Pilot bared his teeth and growled, he jerked his hand away.
Isabel gave her dog a hand signal. “He’s very protective of me. Just give him a little time to get used to you.”
Logan stepped back, allowing her to pass inside. The pungent cologne he’d apparently just drenched himself in filled her nostrils, and she had to force herself not to duck her head and cover her nose with her hand.
She swerved to avoid the bike parked in the entry. A Ping-Pong table occupied the center of the room straight ahead; she assumed it had once been a dining room. Logan moved next to her, standing so close that Isabel took a step back.
“How about a drink? I have a bottle of Chardonnay chilling in the refrigerator that I think you’ll like.”
“Thank you, Logan, but I’m exhausted. I really just need to sleep.”
Logan’s eyes meandered up and down her far longer than was comfortable for her. When his gaze finally made it back up to her face, she could tell by his sour expression that he was clearly disappointed.
She made an effort to smile. “I’ll take a rain check on the drink, Logan.” She unclipped Pilot’s leash and stared down the hall, indicating that she wanted him to show her to the guest room.
Thankfully, he took the hint. “Your room’s this way. Sorry it’s kind of bare, but I don’t have a lot of furniture at this point. My roommate took half of what was here when he moved out.” She followed him down a hall to the right of the entry. He gestured to the first doorway.
The small room with white painted walls held only a twin bed, a rickety nightstand with a lamp, and an antique oak dresser with water rings scattered over the top. But it was all Isabel needed for the night.
“This is perfect, Logan. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Stay as long as you like.” He tucked a long strand of his black hair behind one ear and propped an arm along the doorframe, watching every move she made.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Isabel asked.
“Oh, sorry. I should’ve shown you that and the kitchen. Set your things down and I’ll give you a quick tour.”
After he’d taken her around the first floor and bid her goodnight, Isabel found a bowl in the kitchen for Pilot’s water. She brushed her teeth and washed her face in the hall bathroom then collapsed on the bed, too tired to undress. She fell into a restless sleep, never noticing the tiny camera mounted in the wicker bedside lamp.
~~~
“Hey, Isabel? You awake? It’s time to leave for work. Coffee’s ready.” Isabel awoke to a light rapping on the wood-paneled door and the sound of a man’s voice. It only took a moment for her to register where she was. Oh, crap!
She rolled onto her back and threw an arm over her eyes, the inevitable pain crashing over her like a violent wave with the return to full consciousness. How could Ty have deceived her like this? And worse than that, how would she ever get over him? But she had to, because he’d lied to her about manipulating whatever or whomever he had to so she would have the job at Soter. A job she believed she’d acquired on her own merit. It was an unforgivable breach of their trust.
She stumbled from the bed to the door, Pilot at her heels. Opening it a crack, she mumbled, “I’m not feeling well, Logan. I’ll call Mr. Travers to tell him I’m sick today. Thanks for making coffee. Maybe I’ll feel like having some later.” She closed the door and crumpled back on the bed in a pathetic heap. Pilot would just have to hold his pee awhile longer.
As she lay there curled in the fetal position, trying to find a tiny bit of respite from the pain of Ty’s deception, she knew she couldn’t stay with Logan any longer. She figured after they’d cleared the air and he realized they could only ever be friends, that things would be okay between them.
But last night she’d felt more uncomfortable around him than ever, and now she had to figure out what to do next. How could she go back to Soter.com if she didn’t really belong there? Wouldn’t she always feel like she was just a pitiful charity case? It only took a few minutes for her to realize she couldn’t stay in bed, wallowing in her despair.
“C’mon, Pilot. Let’s go for a walk.” The dog’s tail thumped on the hardwood floor in ecstasy.
Several coffee houses dotted the street where Logan lived, but even the mere thought of a cappuccino made Isabel’s stomach roil. Pilot seemed to sense her turmoil because he kept staring up at her. She patted his head.
Before the end of the day, she needed to have a plan as to what she was doing. Maybe she should move back to Cincinnati with Clarissa. Or was that too drastic a move? Would that be throwing away her career? Maybe she should look for another job before giving up on San Francisco.
Bicyclists whizzed past her. Too lost in thought, she didn’t notice the wet droplets of a steady drizzle beginning to drench her clothes.
Using the key Logan had left on the kitchen table for her, she let herself back inside his house. After she fed Pilot and refilled his water bowl, she decided to take a shower.
Just as she entered the bedroom, the cell phone she’d left on the nightstand buzzed. When she checked the display, she recognized Ty’s number. She also noticed there were a dozen messages from him. It must have been the anguish in her heart that made her listen to the most recent message. The very sound of his voice tore her to shreds, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself.
“Isabel, my love, please give me a few moments to explain what happened with the job at Soter. It’s not what you think. Not at all. We have a future together. I want to marry you and have babies with you. Please. Just give me two minutes before throwing our future away.”
She could have sworn his voice broke more than once during the message. Had he been on the verge of crying? Her valiant warrior brought so low? Maybe she should hear what he had to say. Well, first she’d take a shower and mull it over.
Pilot stood guard at the bedroom door as she stripped off her wet clothes. Rummaging in her bag, she found fresh underwear, jeans, and a T-shirt. She’d never liked the way she looked in jeans but at this point didn’t give a hoot. She scooped up her clothes and headed to the bathroom. Unfortunately for her, a hidden video camera had been hastily installed in the bathroom, as well as the bedroom, before her arrival last evening.
Warm water sluicing over her body in the shower seemed to bring her back to her senses. She should go straight
back to the loft, call Ty, and hear him out. After all, didn’t she owe him that? If she didn’t believe what he had to say, she could always formulate another plan. Maybe she could move back home and try to make a fresh start without agonizingly painful reminders of Ty Griffin everywhere around her.
Chapter 22
Isabel’s fingers trembled as she tried to dial Ty’s number. It took her three attempts before she got it right. He picked up on the first ring, startling her before she was ready to speak.
“Isabel?” His voice sounded raspy.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve decided to hear what you have to say.”
“Where are you? Not at Soter because I already checked. Are you at the loft? I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Let’s meet somewhere. It’s not private here.”
“Okay. Is Ellen there?”
“She’ll be back any minute.”
“Why don’t I pick you up and then we can go to The Admiralty, or if you’d rather, we can go for a drink at Jean-Paul’s?”
She thought it over. The Admiralty wasn’t an option—way too many memories.
“Isabel? Are you still there?” Something seemed to catch in his throat. He sounded alarmed.
“Yes, I’m here. I’ll be out front in twenty minutes and I’ll decide then.”
No doubt Ty had back-to-back meetings, countless calls to return, pressing texts and emails needing replies, documents awaiting his signature, staff requiring his approval on projects before they could proceed, and companies on tenterhooks, anxious to hear if he was interested in them—that was the way his days always were. Yet he was leaving work in the middle of a Monday, his busiest day of the week, to meet her.
She decided to change from her jeans and T-shirt into something more suitable for Jean-Paul’s, one of San Francisco’s more upscale bistros. Nothing too colorful or flirty would work today. Depending on what Ty had to say, maybe she should be draped in black.
