Blackmailed Into Her Boss's Bed

by Sandra Marton

  ‘Logan.’ Talia swallowed. ‘I wonder—would you mind if I lay down for a while? I—I’ve had a rough day and I’m a little tired.’

  ‘Of course. Forgive me for going on for so long.’ He looked at her and, for an instant, she thought she saw pain in his eyes. But then he smiled and turned away, and she could see only his taut body and tensed shoulders. ‘Why don’t you nap upstairs,’ he said casually, ‘in your old room? That way, I won’t disturb you while I unpack.’

  It took all the strength she had not to cry out in pain. Everything was beginning to add up: his odd behaviour the past weeks, his coming to bed later and later, his rising before her in the mornings.

  And now she understood why he’d told her all this about himself. Once a thing is over, it’s over. That was what he’d said and that was his message. He had finished with her, and he was trying to tell her that as kindly as he could.

  Somehow, Talia managed to nod her head. Somehow, she managed to climb the stairs. She felt as fragile as crystal as she opened the door and stepped inside. Carefully, she walked into the bedroom—and then, with a suddenness that almost tore her apart, her stomach rose into her throat.

  She clapped her hands to her mouth and flew into the bathroom. Doubled over in pain, she retched again and again, until there was nothing left. She rinsed her mouth, washed her face, then walked slowly through to the bedroom and sank down on the bed.

  Maybe she had a virus. Maybe she had food poisoning. Maybe…

  Her eyes went to the little calendar she’d left, forgotten, on the bedside table. She stared at it a moment, then snatched it up. Quickly, she thumbed back a month, then two… A moan broke from her lips and the calendar slipped from her hand to the floor.

  She was her mother’s daughter, all right, but she was a far greater fool than her mother had ever been. At least her mother had had some kind of excuse for what had happened to her. She’d been only seventeen—what could she have known of life? Talia was almost thirty. She was a woman—an intelligent, cosmopolitan, well-educated woman.

  None of which, she thought as she bowed her head and buried her face in her hands, none of which had kept her from becoming pregnant.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TALIA cried until there were no more tears to shed, and then she dried her eyes and walked slowly to the window. There were no choices, she thought, as she stared blindly into the night. That simplified things, it made what had to be done easier.

  She had to leave Brazil, leave Logan, and never look back. It was something she’d always known would happen, ever since he’d set the rules for their affair and she, by her silence, had agreed to abide by them. That she’d fallen in love with him wasn’t his responsibility. Nor was her pregnancy.

  ‘I assume you’re using protection,’ he’d said bluntly, some time during the first few days of their passion.

  Talia wasn’t. There’d been no reason to worry about birth control, not since those long-ago times with Keith, and he’d taken care of those things, not she. But there was something too revealing about admitting that she wasn’t taking the pill, that she had no device of any kind.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she’d said, looking away from him.

  That morning, she’d called the American Embassy and asked for the names of English-speaking doctors in Sao Paulo. But she’d waited days for an appointment—and now it was obvious that by the time she’d seen the doctor, it had already been too late.

  Now she was pregnant. Just like her mother. And she was carrying the child of a man who wanted no part of her—again, just like her mother.

  Tears rose in her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. That was where the resemblance ended, though. She wasn’t the childish fool her mother had been, she wasn’t some silly young thing from Hicksville who couldn’t think straight.

  Quickly, she pulled her clothing from the wardrobe, then from the bureau drawers. She wasn’t about to have a child out of wedlock. She wasn’t about to have a child at all. It was one thing to be a fool for love. But it took an imbecile to bring an unwanted baby into the world.

  When she was packed, she shut off the bedroom light, locked the door, and sat on the bed, in the dark, waiting. Hours passed, and then she heard Logan’s footsteps on the stairs. She held her breath while he knocked at the sitting-room door.

  ‘Talia?’

  She said nothing when she heard the door open, heard him walk slowly across the room to the bedroom door.

  ‘Talia?’ he called softly.

  Her heart pounded when the doorknob turned. There was a moment’s silence, and then the sound of his retreating footsteps. Talia rose, hurried to the door, and pressed her ear to it. Yes, she could hear the hiss of the lift doors, the hum of the lift as it descended…

  Her lip trembled. She’d been right, then. Logan would be out tonight, he’d be picking up his life where it had been left off—probably with Vitoria Branco. A sudden vision of Vitoria and Logan assaulted her senses. She saw the woman leaning over him, her dark hair falling on either side of his rapt face.

  Like a silken tent, Talia. Like…

  A sob burst from her throat. Quickly, she unlocked the door, opened it, then picked up her suitcase.

  She never paused to look back.

  * * *

  It was late the next night when she rang the bell at John Diamond’s apartment in San Francisco. The look of astonishment on his face when he saw her brought a smile to her lips for the first time since she’d left Brazil.

  ‘Talia?’ he said, staring as if she were a ghost. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Hello, John,’ she said wearily. ‘Do you think you could ask me in before we get to the question and answer period?’

  Her boss shook his head. ‘Sorry. Yeah, come on in. Would you like something? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?’

  She sighed as she sank into a chair. ‘Nothing, thanks.’ She smiled again as she looked into his puzzled face. ‘You might want something, though. Something stronger.’

  Diamond blinked. ‘OK, let’s have it. What are you doing in San Francisco?’

  Talia’s smile faded. ‘He hasn’t—Logan hasn’t called, then?’

  John had stared at her. ‘No. Should he have?’

  She sighed again and put her head back against the chair. It was foolish to imagine that he might have, she thought, closing her eyes. Logan must have breathed a sigh of relief when he had found her gone the next morning. It was easier this way. Cleaner. He was a man with no heart, but he’d tried to end their affair with some kindness, first with subtle hints, then more directly when she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—catch on.

  ‘Talia?’

  She blinked. ‘Sorry,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘I—I haven’t had much sleep. I feel as if I’ve been flying for days and days and…’ Talia drew a breath. ‘I’m not going back to Sao Paulo, John. I’d have given you warning if I could, but…’

  John sat down opposite her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? You have a job down there, or have you forgotten? Miller won’t let you just—’

  Her eyes met his. ‘Yes, he will,’ she said softly.

  Diamond stared at her. ‘I don’t suppose it would do me any good to ask you to explain that.’

  ‘No. It won’t.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, that’s direct enough.’ He rose, scratched his head, then blew out a breath. ‘OK. Can that girl you trained—what’s her name?’

  ‘Bianca.’

  ‘Right. Bianca. Can she handle things for a while?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. In fact, I don’t think you need to replace her. She’s very capable. Let her hire an assistant, and—’

  He held up his hand. ‘I’ll call her right away.’ He waited, then looked at Talia. ‘Listen, kid, I’m not asking for details. But you look kinda—I mean, is there anything I can do?’

  The unexpected offer, and the sudden gentleness of his voice, startled her. She looked at him and started to speak, when all at on
ce tears filled her eyes. John muttered something as she shook her head and turned away in embarrassment.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said with an awkward laugh. ‘It—it must be jet lag.’

  ‘Listen, maybe you should take a break for a few days. Go up the coast, relax…’

  Take a few days… The thought of the ordeal that lay ahead was enough to send a pain knifing through her heart. ‘Yes,’ she murmured, ‘that’s a good idea. I—I’ll take a week, John. Is that all right?’

  Her boss sighed. ‘Sure,’ he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘No sweat. You just go somewhere nice and have a good time.’

  She thought of those words the next day as she sat in her apartment, telephone in hand, working up the courage to call her gynaecologist and—and arrange what had to be done. Have a good time, John had said, have a…

  That afternoon, she sat facing her doctor. Yes, she was pregnant. There was no question about it. And, if she wanted an abortion, it had to be done soon.

  Talia nodded. ‘All right,’ she said in a whisper. ‘How about—how about the end of next week?’

  Why had she said that? It had to be done soon—the sooner the better. There was no point in… She blinked. The doctor was shaking his head, telling her he would rather make the arrangements for tomorrow.

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. He looked at her, and she drew her breath. ‘I mean I—I have to decide. I can’t just…’

  He smiled gently. ‘There’s another option, Miss Roberts. Have you considered carrying the child to term and then giving it up for adoption?’

  Talia stared at him. ‘Give it up? My baby?’ She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t give it away and never know…’

  Her words tumbled to a halt. What was she saying? She didn’t want this baby. Then what did it matter if she never knew what happened to it? It would be well cared for and loved—wasn’t that all that mattered?

  Her eyes filled with tears. Oh, God, why was she telling herself all these lies? Of course she wanted her baby. It was already a part of her. And it was Logan’s child; it had been conceived in love, even if it had only been her love. She wasn’t her mother, she was a grown woman, responsible and capable. She had some savings, she had a way to earn her own living. There would have to be some changes in her life, yes, but she was ready for change. She was more than ready. The past months had taught her that.

  ‘Miss Roberts?’

  She looked at her doctor. ‘When is my baby due?’ she asked, and then she laughed through her tears. ‘And what special things should I do to make sure it’s healthy?’

  Talia went home happy, truly happy, for the first time in weeks. Her head was filled with plans for the future. John would have to agree to giving her a year’s sabbatical. After that, she’d work part-time. Her baby would come first, it would give her life the meaning it had for so long lacked. She would give it all the love that had been locked in her heart for so many years.

  She had no way of knowing that, in the end, her planning would come to nothing. Only days later, she awoke to a sudden, agonising pain and the sticky warmth of blood on her thighs. Somehow she managed to telephone for help before she collapsed. When she awoke, in a stark white hospital room, she knew what had happened even before she saw the doctor’s sympathetic face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Talia,’ he said softly.

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Was it—was it because I didn’t think I wanted the baby?’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘No, of course not. It just happened, that’s all. That’s how nature is. Sometimes things just happen, and it’s past our understanding.’

  He said more—that she was still young, that she was healthy, that she could look forward to having lots of babies. But Talia wasn’t listening. There would be no babies, not for her. She would never love again. She knew that instinctively, just as she knew she would never get over Logan. In some terrible way, losing his child was almost like losing him all over again.

  * * *

  Set against the rugged slopes of Mount Mansfield, the town of Stowe, Vermont looked like an artist’s sketch of a New England village. And on this winter Sunday, with its white-steepled church and clapboard and brick houses cloaked in a fresh fall of snow, the town was a Currier and Ives print come to life.

  Standing at the square-paned window of the house she’d bought, looking out at the quiet scene, Talia shivered, then drew her wool shawl more closely around her shoulders.

  The temperature was dropping outside. She knew that because the house was getting colder. The heating system was antiquated—she’d known it when she’d bought the place—and the worsening weather put an almost unbearable strain on the old burner’s ability to keep up. The snow was picking up, too. Even the laconic Yankee natives were beginning to say that this was the harshest winter to hit the region in years.

  Sighing, Talia crossed the wide-planked floor to the far side of the room, where a fire glowed on a stone hearth. The logs were burning well, filling the room with the scents of apple and oak. But she would need more wood soon—the basket beside the hearth was almost empty—and if she was going to go outside and bring some in, the time to do it was now, while there was still some daylight.

  A gust of wind rocked the house, moaning like a wild thing as it skimmed through the eaves. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she pulled on her boots, slipped into a mackinaw and gloves, and opened the back door.

  She shuddered, averting her face as wind-whipped crystals of snow raked her cheeks. She’d always loved snow—it was what she’d missed most, years ago when she’d moved from her native New York State to California. But she’d been younger then, or perhaps simply more filled with hope and expectation. Now, the thick white fall seemed more threatening than beautiful.

  She bent carefully, from the knees, trying not to put too much strain on her back. But it twinged anyway and she gritted her teeth as she scooped up an armful of logs. Straightening slowly, she looked into the overcast sky, then marched back to the house, shouldered open the door, and deposited the wood beside the fireplace. She made two more trips outside before her aching back and arms told her that it was time to stop. With a groan, she peeled off her outer clothing, kicked off her boots, and sank to the rug before the hearth.

  She wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed her to move to Vermont. It had seemed such a clever idea, a couple of months ago. She had checked out of the hospital knowing that she could never go back to her old life. Her career, her steady climb to the top, had no meaning any more. She needed time to reassess her values, to reorganise her life. She needed a new beginning.

  Vermont had been as far from her old job and her old life as night was from day. It had seemed the right place to start over. Choosing Stowe had been simple. The town had a well-to-do population that swelled its ranks on weekends and holidays. They were people who came to ski and party, weary after the rat-race in the cities. Talia had gambled that they’d be happy to pay the price for her ready-made ragouts, soups, and crusty French breads.

  John Diamond had tried to talk her out of it. He’d looked at her as if she were crazy when she’d told him she was leaving the West Coast and striking out on her own. And he’d yelled and cursed a lot—which was no less than she’d expected. Still, in the end John had hugged her, given her a quick kiss, and wished her well.

  ‘Break a leg, kid,’ he’d said, and for a moment it had been like the old days.

  But only for a moment. Her smile had faded as quickly as it had come, and John had put his arm around her shoulders.

  ‘What is it, Talia? I know there’s something wrong. If you want to talk about it…’

  But she’d shaken her head, not trusting herself to answer. She’d lost everything, Logan and her baby, but she hadn’t been about to tell John Diamond that. As far as he knew, she’d simply grown weary of the city and decided to try her own wings.

  A piece of wet wood hissed as the flames caught it and a t
iny geyser of steam rose towards the flue. Talia sat up, took the poker, and shifted the logs carefully. Her back twinged again and she bit down on her lower lip. All her muscles were beginning to ache.

  She’d have to take things a little easier. Turn the heat up, perhaps, even if it meant feeding more oil to the voracious appetite of the burner. Well, there was some money left in her account. Not much—the down payment on the house had taken almost all her savings, and her living expenses had just about depleted what little remained. But things would pick up soon. It took time to get a new business started, she knew that.

  Sighing, Talia closed her eyes and lay her head back against the couch. John had called her the other evening. ‘Don’t you get lonely up there,’ he’d demanded, ‘with nothing but cows to keep you company?’

  And she’d laughed and said that there were plenty of people in town and, besides, she had her work to keep her busy. But the truth was that she was lonely all the time. Once, she’d thought she heard a baby crying. It was only the wind sighing through the trees, but her eyes had filled with tears at the sound.

  She dreamed a lot, too. She dreamed of Logan. But it wasn’t the way it had been months before, when they’d first met. Then, she’d dreamed of the magic of being in his arms. Now, she dreamed of a different kind of magic—of the times she’d awakened in his arms with the morning sunlight warm on her face, of the way they’d talked at the little caf;aae the night of the blackout, of how they’d laughed together in Rio.

  Her hand went to her throat and her fingers closed lightly around the amulet he’d bought her that afternoon. She knew she should have taken the figa off long ago and thrown it away, but she could never bring herself to do it.