After I showered, I wrapped myself into a robe. As I walked in our sunny kitchen, Mom was just getting ready for work, dressed in a lovely pale pink summer dress, one that made her look young and flirty, rather than her fifty hard-earned years.
“Morning, baby,” she said, putting a fresh mug of coffee on the square table, which stood in the center of the kitchen surrounded by six chairs. “Sit down.”
“Morning, Mommy.”
I flopped down in a chair and stuck my nose above the coffee mug, inhaling deeply the scented steam. That woke me up, as it did every morning. I sneezed and felt better.
Mom laughed, ruffling my hair.
“God, that never gets old! You should see yourself, my little zombie.”
I mumbled something as I wolfed down a syrup-dripping pancake. Mom bent and kissed the top of my head.
“I’m off to work. I’ll talk to you later.”
When she was in the doorway she stopped and I turned my head to look at her.
“Angie, good luck with Blade.”
I swallowed hard, feeling my heart flutter.
“Thanks, Mom. Take care.”
After she left, I demolished two more pancakes and washed them down with coffee. Then I hauled myself back into my bedroom and stopped in front of the closet. What to wear on such a special day? I had to look good for Blade. I wanted him to think I was the most beautiful woman on Earth.
At long last I decided on a red, fluttery summer dress, tight at the waist, with a knee-length wavy skirt and short sleeves. I felt great in that dress and, more to the point, I looked great. I did my makeup carefully, applying some black eyeliner, mascara, blusher and lip gloss. When I looked in the mirror for one last time, I was seized by a narcissistic pride. Blade had to be dead to resist me!
I grabbed my handbag and keys, deciding I’d ditch the briefcase. All the papers I needed were at my office anyway. I waved to old Mrs. Burke, one of our neighbors, as I flew down the stairs of my building. I almost never took the elevator when I went down, and almost always took it when I had to go up.
The morning air was cool and pleasant, though I couldn’t go so far as to call it fresh, not even in my euphoric state of mind. I unlocked the doors of my pale blue Volkswagen Golf and aired it briefly, then started the engine. I drove with the windows down and the radio blasting away, shaking my head in the rhythm of the music. Every time I stopped for a light, other drivers stared at me. Some of them winked lasciviously; others gave me circumspect looks, as though wondering what drugs I was on.
To feed my high spirits I even found a parking place in the shade when I reached my office building. Things were definitely looking up today. I breezed inside the building trailing perfume and charm, as the security guard stared at me, dazzled. I sent him a brilliant smile and walked into the elevator.
The Unabridged offices were buzzing with activity. Everyone appeared overly zealous, thanks to the new boss. As I stepped out into the main corridor, I spotted Belle coming toward me, carrying a stack of papers.
“Hey, you never called last night,” she said, pouting her pretty red lips.
“I know, sorry. But you didn’t call me either.”
“Well, Henri and I lost track of time... Next thing I knew, it was close to midnight. I couldn’t call you at that hour.”
“I would have killed you! Is Blade in?” I asked.
Her eyes widened and sparkled with mischief. “Yes, he is,” she stretched out the words. “Why?”
I looked down at my red shoes, moving my handbag from one shoulder to another.
“I thought about what you said, about us having been given a second chance. Mom thinks the same. So if he’s game, I would really like to give us another try. I still love him, Belle.”
She actually squealed in delight, then clamped a hand over her mouth and looked around quickly to see if anyone had overheard. Jim was just passing by. He looked at us in dismay, then smiled shyly. We both waved at him, smiling back as he walked into one of the offices.
“Here’s another one of your admirers,” Belle whispered to me, grinning.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on! Jim’s been making puppy eyes at you since he came to work here. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Of course not!” I hissed. “He’s not even twenty-one. What am I supposed to do with him? Play mommy?”
We both collapsed into giggles.
“I’ll bet he’d like that,” said Belle, then she sobered. “Angie, I pray to God things will turn out right for you and Blade. You deserve to be happy.”
“Thank you, honey. Wish me luck!”
I winked and squeezed her arm before turning toward Blade’s office.
“Wait!” she called out after me, gripping her mountain of papers. “There’s someone waiting for you in your office.”
I frowned and spun around. “Who?”
“That writer, the blond, sexy, middle-aged guy.”
“Oh, shit! I forgot about him,” I groaned. “I’ve scheduled him for an interview this morning. He’s just released a new book.”
“Is it good?”
“Not really. Well, I just skimmed through it, but it’s not my kind of crime literature. Too spooky for me. The guy has an unhealthy imagination. But I’d better go and see him first,” I said on a sigh.
“Good luck. And I want all the details of your discussion with Blade.”
“Count on that,” I said smiling widely and headed to my office.
Johnny DiLucca sat in the chair facing my desk. He was blond, fortyish, and I supposed he could be called sexy in a creepy kind of way. His skin was too pale, his eyes too unearthly blue, and he dressed too elegantly. Most of all, the unblinking way he stared at me every time we met made me uneasy. But he was a famous writer of mystery and suspense. Even though I didn’t like him personally, I had to be nice to him on a professional level.
When I entered, he stood and smiled at me pleasantly.
“Miss Jameson,” he said in his calm, calculated voice. “It’s always a pleasure to see you. You look great.”
He kissed my hand and I smiled insincerely, all the while feeling his eyes crawl all over my body.
“Mister DiLucca, nice to see you too. Thank you for coming.” I gestured him back in the seat. “Would you like some coffee or anything else to drink?”
“No, thank you. I never drink coffee. It makes me nervous.”
I couldn’t imagine that glacial man ever becoming nervous. I walked around my desk and sat down, then got out the recorder and placed it on the table.
“Let me congratulate you for your latest novel,” I told him. “You are breaking the charts with your sales.”
He smiled, but the gesture didn’t touch his icy blue eyes.
“Thank you. I don’t know if you’ve read it yet, but I brought you a signed copy.”
He gestured toward my desk, where a book rested among all the scattered papers. It was quite thick, with a simple, black cover. Written in blood-red letters was The Obsession, Johnny DiLucca.
“It’s so lovely of you! Thank you very much. I look forward to reading it,” I lied. “I have a few questions for you. It won’t take long,” I went on and removed from my desk drawer a sheet with the questions I’d prepared in advance for the interview. I turned on the recorder.
“Ready?”
“By all means.”
I started with a couple of biographical notes, then talked him down my short list of questions. I had to grant it to him; his answers were short and concise. He didn’t boast like other authors, even though he had good cause to do it, being a successful writer and New York Times bestselling author.
After a few minutes, there was one question left.
“What inspires you to write?”
His eyes stayed fixed on me as he replied, “Life, of course. There’s no greater inspiration for fiction that real life, real persons, real dreams, fantasies, nightmares. We all have our little oddities, and that is some
thing I like to exploit.”
“I see,” I said, not seeing at all, but not wanting to go deeper into the subject. “Well, that’s about it, Mister DiLucca,” I concluded and stretched out a hand to turn off the recorder. “You’ll be able to read the interview in next week’s edition.”
I stood to conclude the meeting, and he got to his feet as well.
“Thank you so much for coming today.” I extended my hand to shake his. Instead, he took my fingers to his lips and kissed them.
“The pleasure was mine, Miss Jameson. Do you have plans for lunch today?”
Surprised, I gently extracted my hand from his grasp.
“Er, no, not really. I don’t plan to go out to lunch. I have to finish my column for tomorrow’s edition,” I said a bit flustered.
He looked down at his shoes for a moment before lifting that cold, sharp gaze back to me.
“Oh, well, maybe next time.”
“Of course. Have a great day.”
“You too, Miss Jameson,” he said and left, closing the door softly behind him.
I flopped down in my chair, exhaling deeply. The entire atmosphere in the room seemed to have relaxed now that he was gone. My eyes flickered over his book. I opened it and read the handwritten words on the first page: To Angelina, a very special lady. The word very was written in bold letters. The familiar use of my first name was unnerving, but I could hardly make an issue out of that. I pushed it to the far corner of my desk, next to the infamous copy of the BDSM romance, in the books-I-couldn’t-finish area. The hell with them!
I got my mirror out of my handbag and studied my reflection. My makeup was still fresh, except for the lip gloss, which I always chew off after no more than a few minutes. I wouldn’t need lip gloss anyway, if Blade was going to kiss me again, I thought chuckling. A mad excitement pumped through my blood, while thrills of anticipation, emotion and nervousness tangled in my heart.
I stood, drew in a restorative breath, and went to talk to Blade.
To my surprise, Corinne was just exiting Blade’s office, holding a few sheets of paper. When she saw me, her thick, unplucked eyebrows frowned in disapproval, but I didn’t care. I was so happy and lighthearted I decided to be nice to her for a change.
“Hello, Corinne,” I said smiling. “How are you?”
She looked comically stricken.
“Fine,” she replied snippily.
“Is Bla— Mr. Spencer in his office?”
I asked that only out of reflex, already brushing past her to Blade’s office, but her reply stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Yes, but he’s busy. He’s in there with his wife.”
Six
His wife! I literally felt all the blood draining out from my face.
His wife. Blade was married. My heart seemed like a heavy stone throbbing in my chest. I didn’t have enough air, and my legs were weak and trembling.
Corinne was staring at me in astonishment. For a moment, I wondered if she could be lying, just to spite me. But it was impossible. She had no idea about the history Blade and I had. It was true. Blade was married. I had to get away from there. I would have run, but with an admirable effort of will I tried to hide the pain that was tearing me into pieces.
“I’ll catch him later,” I murmured and whirled around, rushing back to my office.
I locked the door, then stood with my back pressed to it. My nails dug hard into my palms. I wanted to cry, but the tears simply wouldn’t come. I would have been numb except for the dreadful, oppressive despair that was crushing my insides and constricted my throat.
I had to think. I needed to plan the next step. What was I supposed to do now? Why hadn’t he told me? How could he lie to me? No, he hadn’t actually lied. I never asked if he was married or involved with someone. But he’d kissed me! How could a man be committed to one woman and give another the mind-blowing kiss he and I had exchanged yesterday?
“The worm! The fucking worm!” I cried, and my voice reverberated around my office, as the tears finally started to flow. I don’t know how long I stood there sobbing, when a knock came at my door.
I froze, holding my breath. What if it was him? I didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to look into those deceiving eyes. Panic was clutching at my throat when I heard Belle’s voice from beyond the door.
“Angie?”
I blew out a relieved sigh and fumbled with the lock. I opened the door, grabbed Belle, pulled her inside, and locked it again. When I turned to her, she was staring at me, worried.
“What happened?” she asked in dismay. “Why are you crying?”
After a few moments of dead silence, I said, “Blade is married.”
Her jaw dropped, as she stared up at me. “Married? Are you sure? You said that—”
“I’m sure. Corinne told me he’s in his office with his wife.”
“But... I can’t believe it.” She let out a gust of breath. “I’m so sorry, Angie. But how could he not tell you?”
“Not only did he fail to mention it, but he also kissed me yesterday.”
“What? The bastard!” she swore viciously, mirroring my feelings.
“I don’t know, Belle. It’s hard for me to believe it, but... It’s true. He’s married.”
Belle’s eyes narrowed, sparkling with fury. “Let’s go and take care of that lying manwhore once and for all! If his wife is here, she’d better hear what her prick of a husband is up to,” she said and clasped the door knob.
“No, please don’t!” I gripped her hand. “I don’t want to see him. I just can’t face him right now. Not after having my hopes and illusions destroyed like this. I never want to see him in my life, Belle,” I whispered, leaning against the door. “I’ll quit.”
“You can’t do that! It’s not fair. He’s the one who should leave, not you.”
I laughed scornfully. “He won’t leave. He’s my boss, not vice versa. I’ll find another job,” I rushed to reassure her. “But I want you to do me a favor.”
“Anything, honey. What is it?”
“I want to go away for a while. I need time to think, far away from everything. Thank God it’s Thursday. I can take the whole weekend off. Can I go to your parents’ cottage in Tacoma?”
“Of course you can. Want me to come with you?”
“No, no. I just want to be alone,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “But it’s so sweet of you to offer.”
She patted my hand sympathetically. “You know I’d do anything for you, hon. I’ll go get my bag and give you the keys.”
When she turned around, I grabbed her hand. “Make sure Blade doesn’t see you coming here. Knock four times when you get back, so I’ll know it’s you. And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”
She nodded, then slipped out the door.
I went to my desk and rummaged through my bag until I found my phone. I dialed Mom’s number.
“Hi, Angie,” she answered after a couple of rings.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m at work. Just getting ready to go eat some lunch. How about you?”
“I’m fine. I’m at work too, but I’m getting ready to go. Mom, Belle and I are taking the weekend off and going to her parents’ vacation cottage,” I told her, hating myself for lying, but knowing it was for a good cause. I really didn’t want to alarm my mother, and didn’t want to tell her anything until I’d had time to sort out what I was going to do.
“What? When did you decide this?” she asked in surprise. “Have you talked to Blade?”
“Um, no. Not yet. He’s not at the office. I’ll talk to him on Monday. We, girls, just want to take a weekend off, watch trashy movies and stuff ourselves with chocolates,” I said on a fake laugh, desperately trying to sound cheerful. “I’ll stop home for some clothes, and then we’re off. I’ll try to call you, but don’t worry if my phone is off. We don’t have a good phone service there,” I added, talking fast.
“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re alr
ight?”
“I’m great, Mom! Take care of yourself, okay? See you on Sunday night. Love you!”
I’d just stuffed my phone back in my bag, when I heard four distinct knocks at the door. I opened it and quickly dragged Belle inside.
“Thank God no one saw you,” I whispered. “I just called Mom and told her you and me are going on a girls’ weekend. Make sure you don’t give me away if—”
I stopped, looking at her. She was white as a sheet.
“Belle, what is it?” I asked, taking her shoulders between my hands.
She wet her lips, then croaked, “I... I saw Blade and... his wife. Angie, she looks just like you!”
Seven
I stared at her, stunned.
“What?”
“She looks so much like you,” Belle repeated. “Her eyes, her hair, they’re the same as yours. Only that she’s not so tall and not as beautiful as you. She’s like a faded copy of you,” she said earnestly, looking up at me.
I was speechless. I had no idea what this could mean, and at the moment I couldn’t bring myself to dwell on it.
“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” I said, walking toward my desk and putting my stuff in my handbag.
“Coincidence, my ass! You don’t believe that any more than I do. He hasn’t stopped loving you. That must be why he married a woman who looks just like you, Angie. He’s still stuck on you.”
As she spoke, Belle put her bag on my desk and retrieved a set of keys from it, then handed them to me.
“Stuck on me? While living and sleeping with another woman? That’s bullshit!” I spun around. “Have they seen you?”
“No, they were just leaving, getting into the elevator.”
“Good. I’ll take the stairs then. Thank you, Belle,” I told her, turning to face her. “You’re a great friend. I’ll try to call, but if I don’t have service, I’ll see you on Monday. If anyone asks about me tomorrow, tell them I’ve called in sick.”
“Take care, Angie. And please, think very carefully about this. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I shook my head, giving her a quick hug.
Unabridged Page 4
