by Bella Forro
“It’s obvious this isn’t working for either one of us,” I said, taking another hurried step forward, turning my back as much as I could toward our unwanted audience. “We need to let this go.”
Her gasp was loud enough to draw renewed attention; to undo whatever I had been able to successfully achieve with creating some semblance of an intimate conversation.
“Mark Pierce! Are you breaking up with me? Here. Like this.”
Well, it hadn’t been my first choice, but she certainly wasn’t leaving me very many options in the whole matter.
“We don’t have to do this here,” I said instead, still thinking there would be some time for us to do a little bit of damage control, to be able to walk away from things.
“What, you think there’s a more appropriate time to call off our wedding?”
I did, in fact, but apparently that wasn’t the response she was looking for.
Then she was ripping off the engagement ring she’d spent hours deciding on in the back room of a jewelry store and winging it at me, where it thudded against my chest and tumbled to the ground.
Then, she turned on her heel and stalked away from me.
It was exactly how I’d imagined it would go.
Chapter 3
Mark
It had been a late night. Or an early morning. Or some unfortunate combination of the two.
I hadn’t even tried to go after Amy when she’d stormed off. I had let her have her moment, had let her return to the condo where I knew she would be huffing about my behavior, waiting for me to come home so she could yell some more, probably throw something I liked just to watch it shatter.
I couldn’t do it.
Instead, I hailed a cab and headed to a hotel close to the office.
I figured that by doing that I’d at least get a little bit of sleep.
It turned out to be very little.
I couldn’t stop the scene from replaying in my head.
I was sure there were a million ways I could have avoided it. But in the end, I hadn’t.
And I was relieved it was over, and disappointed it was going to be splashed across the front of every trashy magazine coming out this week.
At least I could hope that it might raise awareness for Belvedere House.
I certainly hoped it wouldn’t hurt their cause instead.
I was the first one in the office building. Not surprising. And I always kept an extra suit there, because you never knew what might lead you to needing one. Better to be over prepared. It was the motto I credited with giving me the success I had found.
With a fresh shirt and new pants, I was feeling ready to tackle the day.
And I had a lot of tackling to do, because it was only a matter of time before my father waltzed in to the office — Saturday or not, I knew I could expect him in after breakfast to sit behind his desk and read his morning paper — and demand that I explain myself and my “poor” behavior from the night before.
I could see exactly the way that conversation would happen. And I wasn’t in a hurry to have it.
I settled into my chair, spread my work out in front of me, and tried to distract myself in one of the only ways I knew how.
It was just after eight when I heard the chime of the elevator signaling an arrival.
I didn’t have to look to know it was my father. Like me, he was a creature of habit, and like me, there was seldom room in his life for surprises or disappointments.
He walked straight into my office, not bothering to knock. Not bothering to shut the door behind him.
“I expect to see you in my office in ten minutes,” he said, leaving no room for me to respond, having no interest in anything I might have to say to him in return.
Of course he wanted me to meet him in his office. It was one more way he could keep the control. One more way he could remind me of who he was, and what I was to him.
Which was little more than an underling meant to carry out his wishes only, to perform as he saw fit, and to put the corporation in the best light possible at every turn.
I gave him five minutes to settle in before I headed down the hall and toward his oversized office. If I couldn’t take anything else away from him, I was going to take that one thing, and disturb his expectation of his time table.
He was behind his ornate desk, the mahogany overly carved, hand-crafted, obscenely expensive, gleaming and empty except for the paper he had already spread across it.
“Would you care to explain yourself?” he snapped as I stepped in the office and took a seat across from him.
“What is there to explain?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure the whole thing is self-evident.”
He snorted, and I could hear the derisiveness in his voice when he said, “Self-evident? I expect you to make amends with Amy and to do it right. You owe her quite the apology for what happened last night.”
“Dad, that’s just not happening. Amy and I haven’t been right for a long time. We’re just not a good fit.”
I was struggling more than I wanted to, but it was hard to come up with the words to say what I really meant, which was that Amy’s pretty face wasn’t going to be enough to get me through a lifetime with her. Hell, it was barely enough to get me through a dinner with her.
He pursed his lips and frowned, and I couldn’t help but notice how much he had aged in the last few years. It was impossible not to notice.
Then he stood abruptly from his spot behind his desk and began to pace. “Mark,” he said, and I knew immediately he was going to launch into one of his conversations about what he’d learned in life. I could tell by the way he clasped his hands behind his back, by how his chin tipped up and he looked off into the far distance, like he was remembering every bit of his life that he’d already led and every bit that was yet to come.
But I wasn’t prepared for what he said next.
“I’m not going to sugar coat it for you. You’re a man, now, and I know you can handle whatever life gives you.” He stopped and looked at me, his eyes unflinching. “And what it’s given me.”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t have long in this world. The doctor has given me six months. If I’m lucky, or not lucky, depending on how you want to look at it, maybe a year. We’ve considered all the options and tried everything there it to try. That outcome will be unavoidable.
“When the end is close like that, Mark, you start thinking about all the things you did and didn’t do. You start wishing you’d made different choices, maybe. And here’s what I know: I will die alone. There will be no one there to wipe my brow or hold my hand. I will be sick and in a bed and have no one to remember how I used to be. That’s not the best way to think about going.
“If I could do it over again, I wouldn’t have thrown myself into work after your mother died. Or I would have, but not forever. Not for as long as I did. I should have taken some time off. I should have let myself get back out there, meet a woman, fall in love. Start over.”
He’d stopped his pacing, and was just standing there, watching me, waiting for my response. Only I didn’t have one to give him. I was still trying to process it all.
“Don’t be like me, Mark. Take the time to make something work with someone now. Nurture it. Know that it will get you through all the time you have left, and then some. Trust me, son. Amy can be that wife for you. You just have to put the effort in to make that happen.”
It was a lot to soak in. And I wasn’t ready to address that he was dying. I wasn’t ready to ask why or how or when he’d learned his diagnosis, but I was more than ready to tell him Amy and I were permanently done. There would, in no way, be any fixing of that relationship.
I shook my head adamantly. “No, Dad. She’s not the one. There may not be a one. Maybe there is. But it’s definitely not Amy.”
He was out and out scowling at me now. “I’ve suggested you do it nicely, Mark, and now I’m telling you — you’ll do it or you’ll lose your inheritance. You’ll lose all of this.” He gest
ured widely to encompass the room. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s not what I want. Of course it isn’t what I want. I’ve spent my career working here, working for the time you retire and I would take your position over. I know that’s been your dream.”
And I guess, to some extent it had been mine, too. It had literally been what I’d built my whole life around.
And now he was telling me it was jeopardized. Jeopardized by Amy.
“To be honest, though, I would rather start fresh somewhere else. It’s not like I don’t have the background to be hired somewhere else. You know I was top in my class, and I have a resume people would die to have on board with their team.” An undergrad degree from an Ivy and an M.B.A. from Wharton. Plus, the work experience I had. Head hunters were all but clamoring for an opportunity to place me somewhere.
My father narrowed his eyes at me. “Then that will be your choice. But this is mine. Patch things up and make a marriage work for Amy, or everything you’ve worked for so far will be taken from you.”
He turned back to his paper, and I knew I had been dismissed just as clearly as when he would send me up to my room as a child.
Chapter 4
Mark
I’d been able to avoid my father. For the most part.
Though I knew as well as anyone else that it didn’t mean I was off the hook. My father wasn’t the kind of man that cooled down with time, that rethought things and would come to a different conclusion.
I was pretty sure, whether I saw him or not, he was still expecting me to come to my senses and take Amy back.
It wasn’t happening. I’d told him then, and I still meant it now. That woman has done nothing but drag me down, and I was tired of it and all the drama she brought along with her.
I paused at the reception desk to check in. Another day, another set of rounds at different segments of the corporation. Today it was a projection forecast and analysis of the previous year’s work. Of course it was an important meeting, but I wasn’t above being happy that the timing would keep me off site and away from my father for a little while longer.
I read the name plate at the desk and tried for my best smile. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how convincing it actually was. “Hi, Sandra. I’m here for the board presentation. Mark Pierce.”
“Of course, Mr. Pierce,” the petite brunette replied. “Let me go ahead and take you back to the conference room. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee would be perfect. Just black.”
“Yes, sir.” She deposited me outside a room with an outstanding view, an oversized table, and thirteen large chairs.
If I was going to have to spend most of my day sitting in a chair, I suppose this was as good as anything I could hope for.
I picked my spot strategically. It was my preferred place to sit at the table, and it meant I wouldn’t get to partake in the view, but it did mean I wouldn’t be blinded by the light as the day wore on, or bake in the sun, and I’d get the best view of the presentation.
I suppose you could call it a power play, if you wanted, but that wasn’t how I saw it. I was just using all the tools I had at my disposal to their best advantage. And it always paid to be early and get the lay of the land.
I opened up a fresh notebook and pulled out my laptop, settling in for a long day.
I wasn’t there long before the others started to trickle in, two women bringing up the rear.
Which wasn’t unusual, in itself. I worked with women all the time. And usually they were the minority in the group.
But this particular woman, the one who stepped in last, was different. Because this time, I wasn’t thinking about just working with her.
I was thinking that she was the kind of woman I should be spending my time with. Not someone like Amy.
Her hair was pulled back into a conservative ponytail, but I could imagine what it would look like spilling down around her shoulders, demanding to be touched, how the blonde would bring out the blue in her eyes. Her face was nearly bare of makeup, her eyelids free of glittered shadow, her cheeks a dusty rose I couldn’t be sure wasn’t natural.
I wasn’t disappointed when she took the seat directly across from me.
She smoothed out the front of her shirt, adjusted a thin silver chain around her neck.
She was studying an agenda, her lashes dark against the pale skin of her cheeks.
And then she raised her eyes, and caught me studying her.
I offered her a genuine smile, dropping an elbow on the table and leaning in toward her.
“Mark Pierce,” I said.
“Victoria Watts,” she said in response. “Technical Assistant in the sales department.”
“Right,” I said. I’d seen her name on the list of expected attendees. It was my business to know the staff in and out, who was working and who wasn’t. “Nice to meet you, Victoria.”
I guess I just hadn’t anticipated she’d be so damn pretty.
I was thinking about what I might say next, when the meeting was called to order, and I realized everyone else had found their seats, that the room was full, and everyone had turned their attention to the front.
Everyone but me. I was still studying Victoria’s sharp profile, wondering if I’d found the solution to the problem my father had dumped in my lap.
Chapter 5
Victoria
Not that I didn’t love these meetings, but I was getting antsy. I couldn’t stop checking the clock. And I was trying to be discreet about it, but there were really only so many ways to disguise it.
I was happy to report on what we’d achieved, but the truth was I had a lot of ground to cover before heading home tonight, and this meeting was putting a real kink in my ability to damage control my boss’ attempts to lead the sales department.
I could think of three things I’d seen come across his desk this morning I would need to get a hold of before he did, or it would just be extra work for me later.
Our numbers were decent, though, so that was the silver lining in the meeting. No one ever wanted to have a conference with Mark Pierce where they were in the red. He had zero qualms about letting you go if you weren’t pulling your weight.
Not that his expectations were unreasonable. But he wasn’t one to give you more chances than you deserved. And you could only count on the one.
And I needed this job. Even if my boss was a total flake who couldn’t hold up his end of the bargain. Even if I had to scramble constantly to get my work done and to pick up the work he couldn’t do.
I’d watched him take notes. Not too hard since he was sitting directly across from me. And I tried not to study his face, his straight nose and generous mouth, or the way his suit pulled across his chest and shoulders.
He was just as good looking at I’d heard he was. His dark eyes sharp, his jaw strong.
Then the meeting was dismissed, and as I was standing, gathering my things, ready to dart out the door and get done what I could before I had to be out of the office and on my way back home.
“Victoria,” I heard him say, and I turned back to him, the others drifting out of the room, eager to get home, relieved to have made it out of the meeting unscathed. “Do you mind staying a moment?”
It was poised like a question, but I knew it wasn’t, and I sank back down into the chair I had just vacated, while he crossed the room and pulled the conference door closed.
I guess Mark Pierce didn’t need to ask permission to occupy it longer than the scheduled meeting time. I suspect he didn’t need to ask permission for much.
Now, I had no reason not to study him, no presentation to pretend to be focused on.
Not that I was hopelessly attracted to him. Granted, he was good looking. You’d have to be blind to not notice that about him. But there was something else about him that was undeniably appealing. Something about the way he moved, the way his eyes would settle on mine.
I flushed hot under his gaze, wondering what he was thinking a
bout. Wondering if it was anything like I was thinking.
And then I felt a little seize of panic. Because, if he wasn’t thinking what I was thinking, he had probably found something unsatisfactory in my performance, and this would be the time where he would let me know my job was in jeopardy. Or even worse, already lost.
With the door closed he took his seat back across from me, leaning forward on his elbows, folding his hands in front of him.
“Look, Victoria. I’m not going to beat around the bush with you. I think you’re doing an exceptional job here under less than ideal circumstances. I can tell that you’re a shrewd business person with her priorities aligned.”
He paused, and I could feel myself glowing under his praise. It was nice to be recognized for the work I’d been doing. Even though I knew everyone in the office knew it was me who was responsible for getting things done, I spent an incredible amount of time sweeping the need under the rug, trying to make the department look good, making Paul look good in the process.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“So, what I have for you is a business proposition. And I hope you’ll take the time to consider it. I don’t expect an answer right away. You can take as much time as you need.”
There was another heavy pause, and I couldn’t help but wonder where he was going with this whole thing.
“I’d like to hire you on…to act as my girlfriend.”
Indignation welled in me. “Excuse me?” Like I was nothing more than a pretty face he could expect to swoon at his feet, line up to be the next to be seen with him.
“Just temporarily. I have found myself in need of a girlfriend.”
I don’t routinely read the crap they put out in the checkout lines, but even I knew Mark Pierce was engaged to a lingerie model. Which had me asking myself two questions: Why was he in need of a girlfriend? And why in the hell would he ever be interested in having me be that girlfriend.
