She ignored the paparazzi and reporters on her way out of the studio and calmly got into the waiting Mercedes. The shouted questions about her qualifications, her being left at the altar, and her relationship with Logan bounced right off her. This must be how celebrities felt. At first all the attention was disconcerting, and then it just became normal. She pulled out her phone to check her messages. Wow. Her office line had a ton of voicemail messages. She listened to the first one. Hi, Sabrina, this is Patty Mercer. We’re cancelling our appointment. No need to reschedule. Bye.
Strange. They’d been making real progress. She hadn’t thought Patty and her husband were there yet.
Next message. Hi, this is Warren Pitt. Take us off your calendar permanently.
Okay, what was going on? She listened to the rest of the messages with building dread. Fifteen cancellations. What the hell? She went away for a week and lost half her clients?
She called Patty back, working hard to sound professional. “Hi, Patty, I got your message. I was wondering why you cancelled. Have you and Matt reconciled?”
“We’re going in another direction,” Patty replied tersely.
“You’re breaking up? I actually thought we’d made some real progress—”
“We’re going with the Commitment Counselor. We just really like her approach, and she’s pretty well known. She wrote that book. I didn’t go with her before because she was in the city, but she’s expanding her hours at the Connecticut office, so we signed up. I’m sorry, Sabrina. We just like her reputation and think it will be a better fit.”
“How did you hear about her?”
“I knew about her book before, but then I saw her advertisement everywhere—online, in my mailbox, on the local news channel. She sounds amazing and promises quick results. Plus the mailbox ad had a coupon for fifty percent off the first month’s session!”
Sabrina hung up, nearly shaking with rage. She needed to calm down, get back to the hotel, and call all of her clients to assure them that she was the counselor for them.
It did not go well.
She sat at the desk in her hotel room, methodically going through every single cancellation with growing despair. They were not budging.
She dropped her head in her hands. All of the publicity had completely backfired. Instead of drumming up business and taking her career to the next level, it destroyed it. Bile rose in her throat and she rushed to the bathroom. She dry heaved into the sink, but nothing came out. She ran the cold water and splashed it on her face.
She stared at herself in the mirror. This was not the time to fall apart. This was the time to fight.
She went back to the desk, grabbed her phone, and called Claire, who brought her lawyer in on the call. The lawyer assured Sabrina he’d look into any wrongdoing and told her not to contact Tara until they knew what was what. Sabrina thanked him and hung up. And then she reached her limit, bursting into tears. Everything sucked, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Eventually, she curled up in bed, watching mindless TV, done with reality.
The next morning, Friday, Sabrina was still on the jagged edge of her nerves. She was supposed to be enjoying a well-deserved relaxing weekend in San Diego, but she couldn’t seem to work up even an ounce of enthusiasm for it. She felt helpless, unable to fix her client problem, unable to confront Tara, in waiting mode. She hated waiting. And Olivia, Logan’s stupid jealous girlfriend, had never called her back either. Everywhere she looked was a complete fuckup.
She told herself it would all wait until Monday. She should just enjoy herself this weekend. She paced her hotel room. Maybe she’d skip the first-class ticket waiting for her on Sunday and buy a cheap flight home for today. Relaxation was not in her future. No, that was giving up. She’d regret not taking advantage of this rare opportunity to see the sights. She should take what little happiness she could.
She packed up her Jeep and got on the Pacific Coast Highway, telling herself she’d feel better once she arrived at her destination. A short while later, more and more agitated, she took the exit and made her way back on the highway in the opposite direction. There was only one problem she could tackle right away. San Francisco, here I come!
It was time to fix what she’d screwed up for Logan.
It was time for a little chat with Olivia.
Chapter Ten
Sabrina drove like a woman on a mission, stopping only once on the six-hour drive to San Francisco. She had it all planned out. She’d say she had to speak to Olivia about a large donation on behalf of Claire Jordan, yup, she went there, dropping her friend’s famous name, and then she’d get into Olivia’s office and have a calm rational talk. She’d tell her Logan had been her friend for quite some time and that she was also close with his sister, Mad. She’d tell her all the gossip surrounding Sabrina and Logan was just that and her lawyer was on it. She’d tell her to give Logan a second chance because he deserved it. He was a great guy.
Everything went very smoothly on the drive, which reassured Sabrina she was following the right path. She hit very little traffic, and she found a parking garage not far from the Slater Foundation.
Once in the building, she took the elevator to the fourth floor, went into the waiting area, and announced the purpose of her visit to the receptionist, a woman in her fifties with her black hair in a bob. The woman told her Olivia was in a meeting and she’d need to wait.
Sabrina took a seat, flipping through a magazine, hyperaware of sounds from the nearby main office. Half an hour passed. It was four thirty. This seemed like the kind of job where people left at five, especially on a Friday.
Sabrina called over to the receptionist. “Could you please tell Olivia I need to see her? I can’t stay much longer.” Not true, she had nowhere to go, but she had to talk to Olivia today. Logan had said he was meeting Olivia for dinner tonight, and Sabrina wanted the problem to be fixed for him before then.
The receptionist checked her computer and looked up. “I’m sorry. Ms. Slater has the afternoon blocked off now. I could take a message, or we could arrange for something on Monday.”
“I’m only in town until Sunday morning. I’ll wait. Please let me know as soon as she’s available.”
She returned to her magazine, her only plan to catch Olivia on her way out, though she’d really prefer the privacy of Olivia’s office for this conversation. She knew what Olivia looked like from the Slater Foundation website. She was beautiful with glossy long black hair, blue eyes, and flawless creamy skin. Just the kind of gorgeous woman Logan would want. As much as Sabrina wished it weren’t true, her experience was that men were attracted first and foremost to looks. The biological underpinnings of the attraction for a fertile mate put aside, Sabrina thought it sucked. There were many wonderful intelligent loving women who would make excellent partners that were just passed by. Not that she was bitter. Much.
She pulled out her phone. No news from the lawyer or Claire, a few more voicemail messages on her office line. She was almost afraid to listen. If she lost more clients…nope, not going there. She’d wait to check on work after she finished here. One crisis at a time.
The receptionist left the front desk, grabbed a large plastic tag with a key, probably the key to the ladies’ room out in the hallway, and left the office.
Sabrina shot out of her seat and dashed through the door to the main office. She slowed down a little, striding through like she belonged there, passing lots of offices along the periphery and rows of cubicles in the center. She figured Olivia, as the director, had the big corner office.
She could hardly believe it when she reached the corner office with Olivia’s nameplate in gold outside it. Not a single person had batted an eye at her. The door was shut. Should she knock or just walk in? She glanced around at the busy staff. If she knocked, it might draw attention to the fact that she didn’t belong. On the other hand, if she didn’t knock, Olivia might be startled and loudly ask, “Who are you?”
She knocke
d softly. No answer.
Now or never. She quietly opened the door and shut it behind her, stepping into a large office with a modern light-toned wood and metal desk with a white leather executive chair, two white leather guest chairs, and, in the far corner, a round table with more chairs, but no Olivia. Hmm…maybe she was in a meeting room somewhere.
Sabrina took a seat in one of the chairs across from Olivia’s desk. Eventually, she’d have to return here. No way Sabrina was walking into a crowded meeting room.
A bump and a soft laugh alerted her she was not alone. She looked around, spotting an adjacent door. Maybe Olivia had a private bathroom in her office. Nice perk.
The door sprang open. Olivia walked out laughing, her color high, her black hair mussed. She was busy tucking in her pink blouse, looking up at a man, a handsome Indian man, whose white shirt was completely unbuttoned. His belt hung open, the top button of his dress pants undone. Holy shit!
He buttoned his pants and did the belt. His eyes collided with Sabrina’s. “Uh, we have company,” the man said with a thick accent to Olivia.
Olivia finally noticed her and shrieked, “Who are you, and what’re you doing in my office?”
Sabrina leapt out of her seat. “I’m Sabrina, Logan Campbell’s friend. Who’s that?”
“Logan sent you to barge in and spy on me?” Olivia barked.
Sabrina stared at the man. He buttoned his shirt as he walked toward the door, where he stopped to put his dress shoes on. “Later, Livvie,” he said and made a quick exit.
Sabrina turned back to Olivia, righteous indignation filling her. “Logan doesn’t know I’m here. I came here today to ask you to forgive him, to tell you we really are just friends, and you shouldn’t listen to the gossip, but now…I can hardly believe what I’m seeing here.”
Olivia scowled. “You can’t just barge into my office. I’m calling security.” She rushed toward her desk.
“Wait! I just came here to help. I’ll go.”
“Hold on.” Olivia studied Sabrina for a moment before wagging her finger. “I remember you now from all those gossip sites. The Hollywood Love Guru. Go find your own man.”
Sabrina clenched her teeth. Should she tell Logan what she’d seen? It would break his heart. But she couldn’t just let him move cross-country for a woman who didn’t deserve him!
Olivia pulled a brush from her desk drawer and brushed out her hair. “I’m seeing Logan for dinner tonight, so you didn’t need to come by after all. Goodbye.”
“Do you want to be with Logan or with that man?” She gestured toward the door where the guy had just left.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Anil has an arranged marriage this summer, a merger of two very wealthy families. He’s a friend.”
How stupid did she think Sabrina was? They were obviously hooking up. And then it all made sense. “No wonder you were so jealous of Logan having a woman friend. Because you were guilty of cheating. People always harp on the thing they’re most guilty of.”
Olivia tossed her brush in the desk drawer, looking mildly irritated but otherwise too self-satisfied to care about Sabrina. “Look, I ended it with Anil. That was just our goodbye.”
Oh, hell no! “Logan wanted to move out here for a committed future with you, and you’re cheating on him all this time, leading him on?”
“I wasn’t cheating. He’s not here yet, is he?”
“But you have a long-distance relationship.”
Olivia flopped down in her desk chair. “Whatever! I don’t have to explain myself to you!”
Sabrina quickly put the pieces together. “You played him. You used Logan to put pressure on Anil, and it didn’t work. Anil’s still going through with his arranged marriage.”
Olivia leapt from her seat. “Fuck Anil and fuck you!”
Sabrina whirled and rushed for the door. This was all kinds of wrong. Logan deserved so much better than this manipulative bitch. She’d just reached the door when Olivia threw out her last jab.
“If you tell Logan about Anil, I’ll deny it. It’ll be my word against yours!”
Sabrina turned, opening her mouth to inform her she most certainly would be telling Logan, when Olivia went on in a much calmer voice.
“Logan proposed to me in college. Circumstances weren’t right then; now they are. So be a good friend to him and keep your mouth shut.”
Sabrina suppressed her shock. He’d proposed? But he’d told Sabrina it was hard for him to imagine committing to forever when the odds were stacked against it working out. Was Olivia the reason he felt that way? Did Olivia want to marry Logan to rub it in Anil’s face?
Olivia spoke up. “You can go now.”
Sabrina just stood there, taking in this beautiful woman who was a manipulative cheating liar. A terrible partner for Logan.
Olivia picked up the phone on her desk. “I’m calling security.”
Sabrina left without another word.
She stepped outside, thought about calling Logan and telling him everything she’d just witnessed, and then quickly decided she needed to tell him in person. It was a delicate situation that had to be handled with great care. Logan was staying at Claire’s house, so she texted Claire for the address. Definitely better for Sabrina to just show up than to tell him they needed to talk and have him worry until she reached him. All she had to do was get to him before he left for dinner with Olivia.
A few minutes later, she was on her way with Claire’s blessing. “Go get him!”
~ ~ ~
Logan drove north to Claire’s beachfront home, a surprisingly modest four-bedroom Cape Cod-style home worth millions purely for its location. He’d taken Claire up on her offer to stay there mostly because she’d asked him to look in on it and make sure everything was in order. She had a caretaker, who stopped by twice a month, but she wanted him to give her the real scoop. He suspected she just wanted to take care of him. Ever since she’d married his brother Jake, she fussed over the rest of them. When he’d arrived yesterday, he’d discovered the caretaker had fully stocked the refrigerator for him, laid fresh towels out, and made up every single bedroom with supersoft gazillion-thread-count sheets. He’d taken the king-size bed in the master bedroom when he’d arrived last night and couldn’t deny he relaxed more at Claire’s house than he would have at a hotel.
He pressed the code for the metal gate and pulled into the driveway. The security here wasn’t as tight as he’d thought it would be. There was a waist-high brick wall around the street side of the property with the metal gate, but a determined Claire Jordan fan could easily scale it or approach from the private beach and climb up the back deck. Of course, there were security cameras, and Claire normally stayed there with her bodyguard in the nearby guest cottage on the property.
He let himself in the front door with the security code, stepping into the bright open-plan first floor. The great room with high ceilings, white walls, and light hardwood floors was the main living space, with the kitchen just beyond it. Colorful geometric area rugs defined two sitting areas and a dining area. The beige sofas and chairs held bright colored throw pillows. It was all very cozy, not sleek and glam like he’d expected.
He made his way through the great room to the gourmet kitchen with its stainless steel appliances, white cabinets, and light tan granite countertops and set his jacket and tie over the back of one of the wrought-iron swivel stools at the center island, leaving his laptop on the island counter. He snagged a bottled water from the refrigerator and took a long drink. He’d filled Ben in on Elias’s generous offer and stipulations on the drive up. Ben had been thrilled, of course, exclaiming loudly for several minutes about the amazing news.
Now there was nothing to do but celebrate. Claire had left a bottle of champagne in the fridge with a note that said For your celebration. Such a sweetheart, her faith in them absolute.
He leaned against the counter. All that buildup, all the worry and stress and preparation, and here it w
as—success. This was what success felt like. Exhilarating, satisfying, but oddly quiet.
He wished Ben were here to celebrate with. He supposed he could have champagne with Olivia later, but for some reason, he didn’t want to celebrate this with her. She didn’t know all the work that had gone into this moment. Sabrina knew all the nitty-gritty, had listened to him go on and on about it, but she was down in LA. Maybe he could text her the good news. She’d told him goodbye, but a text wasn’t too personal, and they had been in touch when his name got linked with hers again in the gossip rags.
He pulled out his phone just as a chime went off in the house like a muted doorbell. He stuck his phone back in his pocket and headed over to the front door. Maybe it was the caretaker checking in to see if Logan needed anything. He checked the monitor screen by the door that showed the outside view. No one was there.
He stepped outside and saw a red Jeep by the gate. He walked a little closer, and the driver’s side window powered down. Sabrina poked her head out with a wave. “Hi, it’s me! Can you let me through?”
He stared at her in shock. “Sabrina! I thought you were in LA!”
She gestured to the gate. He nodded, went back inside, and pressed the button. Claire had given him instructions on letting a visitor in, just in case he wanted to have Olivia over. But it was Sabrina. He still couldn’t believe she was actually here. Now he didn’t have to celebrate alone. She parked in the driveway behind his rented black BMW.
He held open the front door. “Come in! What’re you doing here?”
She wore one of her professional outfits—red lacey short-sleeved top with white dress pants and beige flats. He was still in his business-meeting clothes, a white button-down shirt, gray suit pants, and black leather shoes. He’d figured he’d need the outfit for the fancy restaurant tonight with Olivia.
Chance of Romance (Happy Endings Book Club, Book 8) Page 11