by Julie Cannon
She took a harder look at the woman. She looked older by about ten years, and sun and alcohol had not been kind to her. She was rail thin, her hair way too black to be natural, and her voice raspy from too many cartons of cigarettes.
Her sixth sense told her to be careful. Other than the obvious, something about this woman set her antennae chirping.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” she asked, still not confirming that she was on the cruise. The woman looked vaguely familiar. “I’m terrible with names, and people look different in different settings.”
The woman took a sip of her cocktail, her red lipstick leaving a clear imprint on the rim of the thick glass. She leaned in and Dana smelled the liquor on her breath. It was from more than the glass she held in her blue-veined hand. “Let me jog your memory. You were with that hot butch brunette. Tall, thin, and more than a little yummy.”
She still wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. She prayed that Emery wasn’t close by or she knew exactly where it would go. Her heart felt like it had stopped. She knew immediately what the woman was going to do, and she braced herself.
“What can I do for you Ms…”
“Hastings. Camille Hastings.”
The woman held out her hand in greeting. Dana didn’t want to shake it, but she couldn’t afford to piss this woman off, especially here.
“What can I do for you Ms. Hastings?” she repeated.
“Sit down, Dana,” she said, patting the seat next to her. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She didn’t move. No way would she give this woman anything she asked for, and that included sitting beside her. She liked the psychological advantage of towering over her. The expression on her face clearly said she was waiting for an answer this time.
“Fuck me like I know you fucked her.”
“Excuse me?” She couldn’t even try to hide her shock.
“You heard me. I didn’t stutter.” She slurred the last word so it sounded more like studder.
She looked around and wished Camille was standing so they could move to a more private place to talk. However, Camille was staying put.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Hastings, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Dana started to walk away on shaky legs.
“You two make a striking couple. What did they call it, the Power Suite?”
Dana stopped and turned around. The woman held out a magazine and she instinctively reached out and looked at the cover. It was an industry trade magazine, and Emery’s success at turning around Martin was the feature article. Since Emery had referenced Dana often during the interview, the writer had insisted the photographer take several shots of the two of them together. She was looking at one of those photos now.
“Small world, isn’t it?”
Her head spun and she was having a hard time comprehending what was actually happening. Finally she handed the magazine back to the woman. “What do you want?”
“I told you what I want. I don’t think I can say it any plainer, but I can try.”
She interrupted the woman before she could begin. “This really isn’t the time to be having this conversation.” She didn’t want to have it at all, but especially not at an event where any one of the dozens of people could walk in at any time. Camille laughed and an icy chill ran down Dana’s spine.
“You didn’t waste any time getting down with Emery Barrett on the ship, so why waste time now?”
Holy Christ, she knows who Emery is. This was her worst nightmare and she knew she wouldn’t wake up. She fought to remain calm. She couldn’t let Camille see that she actually had her by the throat. “I don’t think this is the place to talk about this.” I have to get this woman out of here before she makes a scene.
“Don’t run off, Dana,” Camille said, her hand cold and clammy when she touched her forearm. “Emery is the last person who can help you with this.”
She glanced around the room. Several people had entered and were making their way toward them.
Dana lowered her voice, hoping to encourage the Hastings woman to do the same. “And why is that?”
“Because I’ll go to the Feds and she’ll lose her job.” When Dana snapped her head around in Camille’s direction she continued. “I know about the government stipulations Martin is under. If any one in top management engages in fraud, deceit, or any other inappropriate, illegal, or immoral activity, Martin will lose their license to do business with the Feds. That, in effect, is a death sentence to your company.”
When she didn’t respond Camille kept talking. “One phone call to the hotline,” she hesitated slightly, “or to your biggest competitor, and the rest is history. Not to mention your reputation.”
“Why are you doing this?” Dana finally asked.
“Because I want you.”
The undisguised leer in Camille’s eyes turned her stomach. She had been the recipient of many unwanted advances, but none, including those of James Bethel, were as disgusting as what this woman was proposing. Obviously Camille was not above using her body to blackmail her into getting what she wanted.
“And you couldn’t have just asked me out?” Even her own words sounded crazy, but she had to say something.
“Don’t make me laugh. I watched you two on the ship. You were hot. You could barely keep your hands off each other. I saw you two on one of the decks. I must say you are quite beautiful when you come.”
Camille dropped a picture on top of the magazine, and she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
She remembered the scene as if it were yesterday. It was taken when she and Emery thought they were in an area where they couldn’t be seen. Emery had her pinned to the wall, her hand down the front of her pants. Dana’s hands were on Emery’s breasts under her shirt and she was pinching her nipples. Emery’s face was clearly visible in the reflection in the window behind Dana’s head. The picture was obviously from a cell phone taken the instant Emery’s fingers had entered her, causing her to come hard and fast.
Camille stood. “You have three days to decide. I’ll call you at your office, and don’t even think of not accepting my call.” Camille brushed by her but thankfully not close enough for them to touch. “I just love digital cameras, don’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-one
Stunned was nowhere near strong enough a word to describe how Dana felt. Staggered, shocked, horrified, sickened—the list could go on.
Could her life get any more bizarre? First it was three weeks of incredible sex and connection with Emery, who turned out to be her new boss, then Sharon’s obvious attempt to get her to be her corporate spy, and now Camille Hastings. When did everything start to fall off the tracks?
“Excuse me, ma’am, are you all right?”
The voice to her left was tentative and pulled her out of her fog. She looked into the concerned face of one of the waiters that were floating around the room.
“You look a little pale. Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” she lied, loosening her shoulders to pull herself together. “Really, I’m fine,” she added for emphasis.
The waiter left the room with a final look over his shoulder. Dana smiled and gave him an easy wave and followed right behind him.
She saw Camille Hastings putting on her coat and being escorted out the door by a short, overweight, silver-haired man. She breathed a sigh of relief knowing she wouldn’t have to face her later tonight.
It took over ten minutes for her to weave her way through the crowd before she finally located Emery. Half a dozen twenty-something women surrounded her, and they appeared to be hanging on her every word. A pang of jealousy struck Dana in the stomach as she waited for a break in the conversation to announce she was leaving.
“Is everything all right?” Emery asked, a frown creasing her forehead.
“Yes, just a little headache that if I ignore will become a raging one. I’ll see you tomorrow.” More calmly than she felt,
she walked toward the exit, feeling Emery’s eyes watching her every step.
Back in her car Dana couldn’t wait until she got home to find as much information as she could about Camille Hastings. Knowledge was power, and Dana was in no way going to let this woman blackmail or intimidate her. She pulled out her smartphone and in the darkness Googled Camille Hastings. The light from the screen was bright and she blinked several times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the glow. She scrolled through hits on several Camille Hastings, including Facebook and LinkedIn accounts, Web pages, and several academic and speaker notes. Nothing matched the woman she had met earlier, and Dana had just about given up when she clicked on one particularly interesting link.
“Holy fuck,” she whispered inside her empty car. Warning bells chimed in her head, dread exploded in her gut, her breathing shallow and short. No wonder she looked familiar. Camille Hastings was James Bethel’s twin sister.
Chapter Twenty-two
Dana sat in her car, dazed. What was she going to do? She was between shit and a shit hole, as her father would say, and how had she gotten here? One minute she was on a cruise, fully intending to while away the days exploring the southern Caribbean. Instead she met a beguiling, charming woman named EJ and explored her.
She remembered the night in Camille’s photo. She and EJ had finished dinner late and were walking around the deck enjoying the cool breeze. Due to the late hour they were one of the few couples on deck, and they held hands as they dodged deck chairs, their voices soft in the night air.
She’d let out a shriek as EJ pulled her into an area adjacent to a locker that held towels for the pool, and that was where Camille had taken their picture.
Embarrassed over getting caught in a very compromising position, rage over Camille’s threats, and fear that the woman would actually follow through on them battled for space in her brain. She had to tell Emery, warn her of Camille and what she might do, what she could do. Would Emery want her to have sex with Camille? Surely not, but then again she knew just how hard Emery had worked to get where she was. Was there nothing she wouldn’t do to save herself, her reputation?
Dana pulled into her driveway hours later. She was mentally and physically exhausted as she stripped, took two sleeping pills, and crawled naked into bed.
*
“Dana?” Emery’s staff meeting was over and everyone was filing out of the large conference room adjacent to her office. Dana had not yet moved or even begun to gather her papers together. “Are you okay?” Without thinking she laid her hand on Dana’s forearm. The contact seemed to pull Dana back from wherever she was.
Dana blinked a few times as if clearing her head and realizing where she was. “Yes, I’m fine.” Though she answered, her features remained tight. She started to stand but Emery gripped her arm tighter, holding her in her seat.
Dana had trouble meeting her eyes and she waited until they were alone in the room. “I don’t mean to pry, Dana, but are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I just have a few things on my mind.”
“I hope you know you can talk to me about anything that’s troubling you. Is there something going on I should know about?” She was afraid that someone in the office was giving Dana a hard time or, God forbid, James Bethel was harassing her.
Dana stiffened just before her head snapped up, fire in her eyes. “Do you think that because of our…history you have a right to my personal life?”
Her breath caught. Where in the hell had that come from?
“Because you don’t,” Dana said firmly. “We—”
“My only concern is your life here at Martin. That’s the way it is with everyone that works for me.” Her voice was harsher than she intended it to be, but Dana’s reference to their “history,” as she called it, had surprised her. Dana had never once alluded or even hinted about their time together. Dana never looked at her with anything other than complete professionalism. Even though that was their unspoken agreement during the cruise and their clear understanding when Dana came to work for Martin, she was surprised to discover that it hurt that Dana could so easily discard what they had shared.
Dana’s anger didn’t dissipate. “I said there is nothing wrong.” She accentuated each word. “And if there were,” she pulled her arm free of Emery’s hand and stood, “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I’ve told you that more than once.”
“I’m only trying—”
“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, Emery. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.”
Dana hesitated. She might have stepped over the boundaries between boss and subordinate. She looked at her watch. “Is there anything else? I have another meeting.” Her voice was softer now.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said as she watched the floor numbers tick down on the elevator panel. Luckily she was alone as she rode it to the ground floor. She did have another meeting but desperately needed some fresh air. The doors opened to the spacious lobby of the building that housed the global headquarters of Martin Engineering. Her heels clicked across the marble floor, and she dodged other people coming and going through the revolving entrance door.
She squinted into the bright sun and swore under her breath because she hadn’t stopped by her office to get her sunglasses. Her eyes were sensitive to the sun and constantly watered if she wasn’t wearing the dark, protective Ray-Bans. Shit, now she’d look like she was crying. At least her makeup, as little as she had left, wouldn’t show much damage.
She walked a few blocks to a nearby park and scanned the few benches in the shade for a place to sit down. Just her luck today, they were all occupied except for one on the far side where an elderly gentleman perched on one end.
“May I sit here?” she asked, indicating the empty space on the opposite end of the bench from the casually dressed, white-haired man. His eyes were kind when he smiled.
“Of course,” he replied, and politely stood and with his hand indicated she was welcome to join him on the wooden bench.
She sat down and set her notebook and papers in the space between them, then leaned her head back and let out a long breath. What in the fuck had just happened? She had zoned out in a meeting and had no idea how a simple question from Emery had turned her into a snarling bitch.
She had been in jobs with more stress and pressure than this one and had always been able to handle it. Keeping up her exercise routine, outings with friends, and regular sexual release had always kept her sane and level-headed. Since taking this job she had managed to maintain two out of the three, but she simply had no interest in the third.
Her friends had tried to set her up and she had met some interesting, attractive women, but no one had clicked. She usually didn’t need anything other than a mutual attraction for her to pursue a woman, but lately she just wasn’t interested.
“Taking a break?” the man beside her asked.
“More like a time-out,” she replied.
“Tough morning?”
“More like a tough few months,” she said, surprising herself. She hadn’t really thought about it, but her statement was spot-on.
“You work around here.”
He must have based his simple statement of fact on her business suit, heels, and notebook.
“Yes.” She answered vaguely. “I needed some fresh air to clear my head.”
“It’s the perfect day for it,” the man said, not looking at her. “Not too hot, not too cool. Supposed to be just like this all week.”
He continued to comment on the weather, the trees blooming, and how much rain the weatherman said they expected this summer. Dana felt herself relax listening to the benign chatter.
How had she gotten here? She was under pressure from Sharon to tattle on Emery, James Bethel still called once a week, Camille Hastings was blackmailing her to put out, and every time she looked at or even thought about Emery Barrett, her mind and knees turned to mush. Wasn’t that four strikes against her? No wonder she wasn’t sleeping we
ll and had risked her job by snarling at Emery.
“Do you ever wonder if it’s all worth it?” She had no idea why she’d asked the question and, even more surprising, had said it out loud. She was still looking straight ahead but could see the man turn his attention toward her for a moment before he returned his gaze to the park.
“I’ve been asked to be a snitch, some jerk who thinks he’s God’s greatest gift to women won’t take no for an answer, the sister of a competitor is threatening to out me if I don’t sleep with her, and I’ve got the hots for my boss,” she said in one quick breath. “Other than that, my bills are paid, and I have a roof over my head and great friends.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“No shit.”
The man opened the Igloo cooler beside him, took out a bottle of water, and offered it to her. “It’s unopened,” he said when she looked at it. “Pretend it’s a bottle of the smoothest scotch ever made. I’ll leave it to your choice as to the actual distiller,” he added with a soft chuckle.
“Thanks.” She twisted open the lid and took several long swallows. The water was cool against her throat and immediately refreshing. Another few swallows and she began to feel much better. “Well, if I took your advice, I’d be roaring drunk by now.”
“And doesn’t that make the world look very different?” he replied, sipping from his own water bottle. “At least for a little while.”
“How did I get into this mess? One day I’m on a sun- and fun-filled cruise with two thousand other women, the next I’m deep in this shit. I just wanted to relax and escape for a few weeks, you know? Rest, recharge, improve my tan lines, maybe meet a few interesting women. But no, I have to become involved with one particular woman, and God help me, I’ve fallen for her. Hard.”
She had no idea why she was telling this to this total stranger. He could be anybody, and with her run of bad luck, he probably had ties to people or contacts or something else that would bite her in the butt tomorrow.
