by Ava McKnight
“I’ll keep an eye out for it when it hits the market.” I was still feeling older than my thirty years because Biel and her friends were so youthful and exuberant. But that was neither here nor there. I was stalling. “Well.” I had to dive in, despite the fact I felt compelled to drag my feet. This was the part that really sucked, because Olivia really did seem to be a very lovely woman. “Would you happen to have a few minutes to spare now? I have just a couple of questions.”
“Sure. Let’s go into my office.”
I followed her and she set her file folder on the edge of her desk before taking a seat. She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk and I sank into one.
She was a distinctive-looking woman, exactly the type I’d imagine Mav with. Olivia appeared close to his age and had a chic, blond bob and stylish glasses. She wore only mascara, a hint of blush and a neutral-colored lipstick. She didn’t need anything more to enhance her large, hazel eyes and refined features. Her lab coat concealed her attire, with the exception of a splash of pale pink above the first button of the jacket and below its hem, where an inch or two of her dress peeked out. She wore stockings and low heels.
Keeping the jewelry to a minimum, she only showed off a diamond tennis bracelet on her right wrist. I immediately wondered if Mav had given it to her as a gift. Perhaps a parting one?
I was too sensitive to breakups by far. In this particular situation, I hated to be the bad guy. Olivia seemed to be a very likeable woman. But she could have been more villainous with regard to the launch than I was about to be.
I said, “Can you tell me about the packaging of Biel McKinley’s makeup last Thursday?”
“We did it here,” she told me. “Cal Stoddard and one of his men escorted Biel to the lab. Cal brought the materials I needed to seal the containers. I tested three sets on Biel and then packaged them. Everyone watched me.”
“How’d you test the products?” I decided it’d be a good idea to start out slow. Work my up to the big bang theory I’d concocted.
She said, “I applied a bit of each product and then used a water bottle to spritz Biel’s face. I dabbed her skin with a white cloth and…no makeup transferred onto it. Not even the mascara.”
I studied her as she spoke. Though there was no hesitation in her voice, she fidgeted with a ballpoint pen on her desk, making it click as she depressed the button for the tip to come out and then retracted it. Several times.
Catching my gaze on the pen, she dropped it to the leather blotter on the desk and instead rested her hands on the desk, one on top of the wrist with the diamond bracelet. She absently fidgeted with that as well. This time, I wasn’t even sure she was aware how she toyed with the piece of jewelry.
“Were you at the product launch?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her in the hotel suite when the Elan execs had converged on Biel.
“No. I had a prior engagement that evening.” A hint of guilt flashed in her hazel eyes.
Curious.
I suddenly wondered if she’d thrown herself into the new wrinkle cream development to avoid any sort of interrogation. I’d tried to contact her numerous times, but had been told repeatedly she was working in a confined area, which I hadn’t been granted access to, since it was quarantined to prevent any kind of contamination. Or so I’d been told by her assistant.
And while it’d take some ginormo balls, as Biel might call them, to continue to come to the lab during this time of turmoil—if Olivia was, indeed, the product launch saboteur—it would have been more suspicious had she stayed out of the office.
I considered all of this before I took the big leap. I asked, “Do you have any idea how the makeup was switched?”
“No,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “Once it left the lab, it was out of my hands.”
“But never out of Biel’s. Cal escorted her to the hotel and can confirm she never put that bag down.”
“I don’t know how it happened, Miss Mansfield. It’s a travesty, but I can’t tell you what you need to know, because the swap didn’t happen in my lab.”
I had to go for the gold. “And you wouldn’t have any reason for wanting Elan—or Mav—to suffer, when you might have the potential to make that happen?”
She shot out of her chair. “What exactly are you implying?”
“I know about you and Mav.”
Her face fell. More guilt rimmed her eyes. I’d trapped her.
“Oh.” She sank back into her chair. “He told you.”
“It’s still hanging on the grapevine, apparently.”
Olivia seemed to digest this, then said, “I thought…” She shook her head again and stood. “I shouldn’t answer any more of your questions without my attorney present.”
This took me aback. She’d conceded so easily? “Does that mean you have something potentially incriminating to say?”
“It means,” she said as she scooped up her files and dumped them into her bag, along with her laptop, “If you’re on a witch hunt, I’m not saying a word without legal representation.”
“I’m not on a witch hunt,” I told her as I got to my feet as well. “I’m just trying to help Mav determine who would want to sabotage his campaign.”
“And you think I would?” she demanded. “Because he led me on? Because he made me believe there was more between us than there really was—more than there ever could be?”
With a sigh, I admitted, “I know what it’s like to be played. I’m not sure what happened in your case, but it might feel as though you were duped. It’s a soul-sucking feeling that leaves you empty and broken. I know.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I loved him. He didn’t love me back. That doesn’t mean I want him to suffer.”
I cringed. I was much too good at reading body language to see she was lying. The way she gripped her bag so fiercely and the way her lower lip trembled ever so slightly told me anger coursed through her at the reminder of Mav’s betrayal of her love and trust. I recognized all the signs. I was practically looking into a mirror, seeing myself the day Brandon had cheated on me.
“I understand this is upsetting,” I told her. “But if you would please just answer a few more questions—”
“Call my lawyer if you have additional questions.” She pushed past me and stormed out of the office and the lab.
I rubbed my temple, feeling a massive headache coming on. She’d completely taken the wrong approach to this—and it didn’t bode for Olivia Benedict. Her defensiveness and the fact she refused to say another word without a lawyer present echoed her guilt. What did she have to hide that she needed her attorney with her before she’d hold a discussion with me?
“Shit.”
I should have been thrilled to have this break in the case. But the truth was, I could empathize with Olivia. That didn’t excuse her behavior, but hadn’t I admitted to Mike that I’d wanted to take a baseball bat to Brandon’s Jaguar? Anger and betrayal could make you do crazy, irrational things.
That was why they were called crimes of passion.
* * * * *
I was home by midafternoon. I’d relayed to Mav the entire conversation I’d had with Olivia and his face had turned ghostly white as I’d told him she’d run out on me and wouldn’t speak without an attorney present. This did not inspire confidence in him that she was as innocent as he wanted her to be. I could read the signs.
Leaving him to make the necessary legal arrangements so we could further question Olivia without it being misconstrued as harassment, I came home and ordered Indian takeout.
As I settled in my living room and nibbled on the tandoori chicken, I flipped through TV channels, but nothing appealed to me. In the back of my head, a number of thoughts swirled around, taunting me, until I turned off the tube and let them run rampant.
Love was a bitch, no matter who you were, was the first thing I decided. Latching on to another thought, I gave credence to the fact that the vast majority of the world’s population had probably had its heart trampled at least on
ce. Some poor souls had been used and abused more than that.
Leaving my container of chicken on the coffee table, I crossed to the media center and searched the alphabetized CDs, selecting one in particular. I pulled the disc from the case and popped it into the player. Using the remote, I skipped to the song I wanted. Garth Brooks’ “Standing Outside the Fire”.
I hit the play button and returned to the sofa and my food. But I was only into the first verse when the tears started to pool in my eyes. The song was about having two choices—jumping into love with both feet or lingering on the outskirts of it. In one scenario, you might get burned. In the other, you might keep your heart intact. But is the latter and safer approach really living? Is that really experiencing all of the human emotions and all of the possibilities that exist during our lifetime? Sure, we might get kicked around if we take a chance on someone. Then again, we might end up with something beautiful and lasting. Something we never would have been blessed with if we hadn’t given it a try.
I listened to the song at least a dozen times as I wept. For the first time in three years, I didn’t think of Chase or Brandon. I thought only of Mike and how close we were to having it all. The problem was, we were both amateurs when it came to romance and love. Neither one of us knew dick about it. Yet we’d been willing to give it a go. And then everything had gone haywire the night before he’d left for Dallas.
Now we were left with two choices. Jump into the fire or stand outside it.
I knew where I wanted to be. With him.
Leaping off the sofa, I went into the foyer to retrieve my laptop. There were still some photos I’d downloaded from Biel’s camera that I hadn’t yet printed out or sent to Mike.
Then I dug around in the drawers of the entryway table, looking for stationery. I could have sworn I’d brought some home from a fancy hotel in Paris, but I must’ve eventually tossed it during a cleaning fit, since I never bothered with handwritten notes these days.
I had to settle on computer printer paper, but at least the letter would be in my own penmanship. After locating a pen, I returned to the living room, wiped the water from my cheeks and went straight to work.
First, I downloaded the rest of the photos. Then I selected the one Biel had taken when she’d asked how I’d feel if Mike never kissed me again. There’d been a tear in my eye. A perfect round drop that had sat on the rim of my eye when she’d snapped the picture.
I attached it to an email message for him and typed, “This would be me, without you.” I hit the send button without a second thought.
Then I put pen to paper and told him precisely how I felt about him. When I’d conveyed all the emotions I’d shared with Biel, and then some, I printed out the rest of the pictures and, with a black Sharpie, created brief captions for each one. The last one I signed was of me smiling brilliantly. I remembered what had brought that smile to my face. Telling Biel about my first kiss with Mike.
I wrote, “You are everything to me. Thank you for loving me. Love, Lace.”
Staring at the sign-off, I amended it, adding an “I” before the word “Love” and squeezing in “You” after it.
Ah. That was amazingly cleansing. No matter the outcome, I couldn’t be blamed for not giving him my heart and soul. It was what I wanted to do, regardless of how our relationship panned out. He deserved the truth from me and I believed it was time I gave romantic bliss another shot, now knowing so much more about relationships and affairs of the heart than I did the first two times around.
I packaged the letter and the photos in a white, nine-inch-by-thirteen-inch envelope and took it next door. I slipped it between the crack above the two deadbolts and heard it hit the hardwood floor on the other side.
Satisfied, I went back to my apartment and ordered a ridiculously huge bouquet of flowers online for Biel’s birthday—and her friendship—all in white.
I didn’t hear back from Mike and tried not to sweat it. He was two hours behind me and likely up to his ears in FBI work. A small part of me stressed a little, naturally. But I went to bed early to keep it from chipping away at me.
Chapter Thirteen
A Birthday Bash That Will Live In Infamy.
(AKA, Be Careful What You Wish For.)
Of course, the first thing I did the next morning was check my email. Relief washed over me when I saw a message had arrived from Mike. But I didn’t immediately open it, as the too little too late adage skipped through my mind. He didn’t yet know about my love letter. What if his note turned out to be of the “Dear Jane” variety?
“Oh why couldn’t you have handled all of this better?” I muttered to myself.
I was about to click on the message when the phone rang. It was Biel.
“Hey,” I said as I pressed the cell to my ear. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh. My. God!” She sounded thrilled to the core of her being. “Those flowers you sent are insane.”
“They arrived already?” It was only half past eight.
“Just came. And holy cow, Lacey. They’re breathtaking!”
I smiled. I guess when you sent a delivery to a supermodel, it was handled as top priority. “I’m glad you like them. Send me a photo.”
“As soon as I hang up.” She was her usual chipper self, her emotional turmoil be damned. “Tell me you’ll be at the Montlimiere tonight,” she said in an insistent tone, as if I’d pass it up.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“And the super-hunk?”
I gnawed my lip, then said, “He’s in Dallas on a case with the FBI. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“Can’t he fly in for the night? I’d love to meet him.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh right. I’d so like to introduce the two of you and then feel like a third wheel as you fawn all over each other.”
She was Biel McKinley, for Christ’s sake. Not at all a woman I could compete with. Though, at this point, maybe I didn’t have any say in the matter. I had no idea what was going through Mike’s mind right now and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know. Hence, the reason I was reticent to open his email message.
“Oh please,” she said with a half-snort. “I’m sure he has eyes only for you.”
“Anyway,” I continued, not wanting to dwell on what might or might not be going on between Mike and me. “I will be at your party, but I have to go into the office first to check in with Mav.”
A pause on her end, then she asked, “Did you talk to him about Olivia?”
“Yes. I also spoke with her. She freaked out big-time.”
Biel groaned. “I can’t believe she’d do anything so underhanded, Lacey. It’s just not in her character.”
I hated that I couldn’t take Biel’s word on this. “I’m sorry this is so difficult for everyone. But I swear that woman has one hellaciously guilty conscious. It radiates from her. I could see how much she would love to even the score with Mav.”
“Ugh. What is wrong with the world?”
One of my brows jerked up. “Piper still hasn’t come around?”
“No. I mean, I understand there’s a time zone difference, but she could have called me last night to wish me happy birthday.”
“I’m sorry, Biel.” I didn’t know what else to say to her, except, “Maybe it’s time to face the inevitable—and move on.”
With a dramatic sigh, she said, “I know you’re right. I just can’t seem to bring myself to sever the ties. I keep hoping she’ll call and say she’s coming tonight.”
“Sometimes the ties get severed regardless of whether or not you want them to.” I didn’t like leaving her on a bad note—it was her birthday, after all. So I added, “Hey, it’s still early. You have no idea how this day is going to shape up.”
“So true,” she said. “And this party and re-launch will be fantastic tonight, I have no doubt.”
“Atta girl. I’ll see you there.”
“Thanks, Lacey.” Her tone was filled with delight again, despite her per
sonal woes. “You’re a terrific friend.”
She choked me up, that fearless supermodel. “So are you. Enjoy your day, and I’ll see you tonight.”
I disconnected the call and immediately received another one. Mav wanted me in his office ASAP. I closed my laptop and jumped off the sofa. I ducked into the shower, then dressed and headed out.
I was dying of curiosity all the way to the Elan building. Entering Mav’s office, I was surprised to find Cal there.
“What’s going on?” I inquired as Christine closed the door behind me to give us privacy.
“We’ve spoken with Anne Dunley, for starters,” Mav said. He sat behind his desk and I took the chair next to Cal. “She was easy to reach. Seems she’s been at home all this time. According to Marcy in HR, Anne has three children in school, so we suspected she hadn’t gone out of town on her two-week vacation.”
“What’d she say?” I asked.
“Broke down immediately,” Mav told me. “I asked her to come in this morning to meet with my general counsel. We have a non-disclosure agreement on file, which Anne signed when we started the new campaign.”
I winced. “You’re going to sue her?”
“I don’t know. She leaked confidential and proprietary information.” He looked miserable over the whole thing. I could imagine having an employee try to ruin your megamillion-dollar campaign wouldn’t sit right on a variety of levels. The money and resources involved for one thing. The failure of the line. The loyalty you’d thought you had from someone who worked for you.
Continuing, he said, “She’s a single mother. And you were right, Lacey. She accepted cash in exchange for campaign secrets.”
“Must’ve needed the money badly to take that big a risk.”
With a nod, Mav said, “That’s what worries me. Any sort of recourse on Elan’s part will only make her suffer more…and her children.”
The guy had a big heart, I had to hand it to him. It made it very difficult for me to believe he’d treated Olivia shabbily. But there were three sides to every story and I didn’t know the unbiased version.
