by Kira Blakely
And that will be more than enough.
My mom gives me another hug. “I’m sure you’ll be able to do all that, sweetheart.”
From this moment on, Nathan Landers will be nothing more than a bad memory. And soon, he won’t even be a memory.
Nathan Landers who?
Chapter 9
Not Biting the Bait
“Who’s N.L.?” Mattie asks, reading the card that came with another bouquet delivered to the Prima Vida office, which is currently empty except for Mattie and me, the rest of the staff on assignments.
Another day, another bouquet. This time, roses and tulips sit there on top of the cabinet by the door.
Nathan doesn’t know how to take a hint, does he?
I shrug, my eyes on my computer screen. “Beats me.”
“Oh, come on. Do I look like I was born yesterday?”
She sits on my desk.
“If it didn’t have a name, I’d believe it was a secret admirer.” She waves the card in front of my face. “But this one’s clearly signed ‘N.L.’ with the silhouette of a lion stamped beside it.”
Yup, I’ve noticed.
The nerve.
“Stop it, Mattie.” I try to grab the card, but Mattie holds it beyond my reach.
“So were the other cards,” she says. “On the dozen other bouquets.”
“The ones I returned?”
“Ooh, someone’s playing hard to get.”
“Not hard to get.” I sit down and continue working on my computer. “Impossible to get.”
“He’s persistent. That means he wants you. Badly.”
I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t want me. He wants something from me. There’s a difference.”
“Really? What does he want?”
Good question. What more does he want from me? More sex? Can’t he get that from another woman? Can’t he move on to someone new? What? Does he want to hurt me some more? To make an even bigger fool of me? Haven’t I amused him enough?
I give another shrug. “Beats me.”
“Well, if you tell me who he is, maybe I can talk to him for you. Ask what he wants.”
Not a chance. “No, thank you.”
Mattie frowns. “Why not? I’m good at dealing with men.”
“I know you are. But this one’s different. He’ll devour you.”
She grins. “Now I’m even more intrigued.”
Right. I forgot Mattie loves a good challenge. If she was a moth, she’d probably hover around an open flame just to see how close she can get without getting burned.
“So, tell me.” Mattie goes behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“If you ask me, he’s unlucky because he picked me to mess with. And stupid.”
Mattie ignores me. “N. L., huh? Do I know him?”
“No,” I lie.
“Is he rich? No. Don’t answer that. He’s been sending you flowers, so he must be rich.”
“Um, are you still talking to me? Because I’m trying to work here.”
Again, she ignores me. “Is he older than you?”
I don’t answer. Two can play the pretend-I-don’t-hear-you game.
“Is he married?”
“What?”
Then again, that’s a good question. What if Nathan is secretly married? The more I try to forget about him, the more I realize I never really knew him.
“Divorced? With kids?”
“Mattie…”
“Come on. Just give me a clue. One clue.”
I sigh. “He’s a jerk.”
She pouts. “Gee, thanks. That’s about every guy on this planet.”
“It doesn’t matter who he is,” I tell her. “And it doesn’t matter how many flowers he sends me. I’m not giving him the time of day.”
Mattie sighs. “I almost feel sorry for the guy.”
I snort. “Don’t.”
“And for the flowers. Can I bring this one home?”
“Sure.” I don’t even think about it. “You can have all the flowers.”
“Thanks.” She goes to get them. “I think I’ll show them off and pretend that a secret admirer gave them to me.”
“Whatever.”
I’m just glad to be rid of the flowers. And of Mattie.
Alone at last.
I let my face fall on the keyboard, sighing. Now, if only Nathan would leave me alone as well.
***
I should have known he wasn’t going to leave me alone.
A few days later, on my day off, just after I’ve finished giving Siberia her first meal of the day, the doorbell to my apartment rings.
I answer it and a woman is standing there.
Petite. Brown hair. Full, almond-shaped dark eyes. Pink collared blouse. Black blazer. Black pencil skirt. Stockings. Half-inch heels.
Nope. I don’t have a clue who she is.
“Can I help you?” I ask through the small gap in the doorway.
“Actually, you can. You are Ms. Samantha Willis, correct?”
“Yes,” I answer reluctantly.
She smiles. “My name is Abigail Gomez. Abby. I’m Mr. Landers’ personal assistant. Can I come in?”
I take a moment to digest the lengthy introduction. “Nathan Landers?”
She nods.
I didn’t even know Nathan had a personal assistant. Not that I care.
“Can I come in?” she repeats.
“Um, actually, I’m not sure,” I confess. “You see, I’m trying to cut my ties with Mr. Landers.”
“I know.”
She knows?
“That’s why I’m here. To deliver a gift.”
She hands me a big, shiny paper bag. When I don’t accept it, she opens it, bringing out a stuffed orange tabby from inside.
A stuffed toy cat? Really?
“Mr. Landers thought of giving you a dog, but he remembered dogs aren’t allowed at your apartment. Then he thought of giving you a stuffed dog but thought Siberia might not like it. So, he decided to give you a stuffed toy cat. Oh, and there’s a toy for Siberia here as well.”
Abby scoops out a pack of colorful foil balls.
I’m a little surprised that he remembered Siberia but if he thinks he can get to me through Siberia, he’s wrong.
“I’m sorry, but I think Siberia has enough toys. Is there anything else?”
Abby raises an eyebrow. “Is there anything else you want to have?”
I blink. Is she for real?
“I have better things to do actually so—”
“I also have a message to deliver.”
I cross my arms over my chest and lean on the doorframe. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“Mr. Landers told me to tell you that there are already a few dogs in the dog shelter. You might want to pay them a visit.”
The dog shelter? Surely, Nathan doesn’t think I’ll fall for the same trick twice.
“He also told me to tell you that he’d appreciate it if you would please return his phone calls. He’d very much like to see you again.”
You mean he’d like to sleep with me again.
I snort. “And he can’t say all this himself?”
“Well, he couldn’t reach you—”
“And of course, he’s too busy to come here himself.”
“Well, if that’s what you want, I can tell him—”
“You know what? Tell him this for me.” I stand up straight. “Tell him I don’t care what he does with his life, but I happen to have one, too, and I’d appreciate it very much if he dragged his fucking ass out of it and stayed the hell away from me.”
I slam the door, breathing deeply as I lean on it.
That felt good.
At least until I realize I just lashed out on an innocent stranger.
Shit. What did I just do?
I open the door. Abby is still out in the hall, texting someone on her phone.
Thank goodness.
I walk toward her. “Um, Abby?”
&nb
sp; “Yes?” She turns her head.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“It’s fine.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not. None of this is your fault.”
“It’s fine,” she repeats. “I’m used to taking responsibility for things that aren’t my fault.”
That makes me feel even more guilty.
“It must be tough working for Nathan Landers.”
“It is,” she admits. “But I can deal with him.” She sighs. “It’s dealing with his women I don’t like.”
Women.
“Have you told him that?”
Abby shakes her head. “Other than that, he’s a good boss. True, he can be a little grumpy sometimes—” She lowers her voice. “Don’t tell him I said that.” She resumes her normal tone. “But he’s reasonable. And efficient. I work hard, but I know he works harder.”
“He didn’t send you to tell me about his good points, did he?”
“No,” she answers quickly.
“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “I won’t tell him a thing. Actually, I don’t intend to say anything more to him.”
“Can I ask why?”
I lean my head back. “I guess I’m just another woman.”
She nods. “Well, yeah. He’s been with a lot of women. I actually thought you were different, though.”
I look at her. “What made you think that?”
“Well, I’m usually sent to deal with his women, tell them to stay away from him, blackmail them, bribe them.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It’s the first time I’ve been sent to deliver presents.”
Really?
“But I guess a leopard can’t change his spots, huh?” Abby asks.
I shake my head. Nathan can’t fool me any longer. “No, he can’t.”
To my surprise, she puts a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry for what he did.”
“Hey, you already do a lot for him. Don’t apologize for him, too.”
Abby smiles. “You know what? I like you.”
“Funny. I feel the same.” I glance back at my apartment. “Hey, what do you say we go inside and have some coffee?”
She smiles wider. “I’d love that.”
See. I don’t need Nathan. There are plenty of better, nicer people in the world to keep me company and work to keep me busy.
For sure, I’ll be able to move on.
Or so I thought.
Chapter 10
Ruffled Feathers
The Talbot Mansion sits in the middle of acres of land, its grand architecture towering over the trees.
I’ve never seen it with my own eyes before, only on the cover of a magazine. I take a moment to appreciate it now, taking in the marble balustrades of its balconies, its brick chimneys and French windows before walking around the grounds with my camera.
It’s the birthday of Virginia Talbot, the matriarch of the Talbot family. Mattie and I have been invited not only because the Talbots are a family of philanthropists and politicians, but also because Carlisle Talbot, the second eldest son, happens to be my boss’ good friend.
There aren’t too many people yet, but I can already spot some familiar figures.
The peacock and his wife, the hen under a tree. The vulture by the fountain. The hyena by the refreshments table.
Or the camel.
I shake off that comparison, suppressing the memory of that conversation.
No, the hyena. And the mink. And…
Casey Rockford.
Shit.
Slowly, discreetly, I back away, taking pictures here and there so that the camera can conceal my face.
It’s no good, though. As soon as I put down the camera, she walks toward me with a slender redhead in tow, her eyes narrowed in disdain.
She’s noticed me.
Worse, she’s recognized me.
You stand out even when you don’t want to.
Shit. So far, her father hasn’t made any requests to have me fired but that could change tonight.
Time to make a not-so-discreet escape. I look around quickly then make for the gap in the hedge.
“Where are you going?” Mattie asks, noticing me fleeing. “I’ve heard Mrs. Talbot is about to come out of the house. And her daughter told me her outfit is worth a quarter of a million dollars, and she’ll auction it off afterward.”
“Restroom break,” I hastily mumble, not stopping. “I’ll be right back.”
Mattie frowns. I can tell she’s considering accompanying me to make sure I do come back and in time but then the hen talks to her, making her discard that idea.
Now, I just have to worry about Casey.
I go through the gap and make my way through the hedge maze. At the end, I reach a pool and I sit on a chair, out of breath.
Well, it seems I’ve lost Casey.
Why am I even running away from her? I didn’t do anything wrong. Nathan kissed me without my permission. I didn’t want him to.
And what about the kisses after? And the sex? You didn’t want those, either?
I sigh.
Right. Even though I shudder to think of it now, no matter how much I regret it, I ended up being one of Nathan’s women.
Whereas Casey never was.
And she probably blames me for it, so it’s best to stay away from—
“There you are.”
Casey emerges from behind the hedge with her friend right beside her.
I quickly stand up, a lump forming in my throat.
“M-Miss Rockford?” I say, stuttering.
“This is the woman Nathan dumped you for?” her friend asks with raised eyebrows.
Dumped?
I swallow. “I think there’s been some misunderstanding, Miss Rockford.”
“Really?” Casey puts one hand on her hip. “Are you saying you weren’t the one Nathan was kissing at that gala earlier this month? And don’t you dare say you didn’t enjoy it.”
“I was but I didn’t—”
“She doesn’t even deny it.” Casey’s friend steps forward, interrupting me. “What? Do you actually have feelings for Nathan?”
“I don’t. I—”
“Do you think he’s going to marry someone like you?” Casey’s friend stops right in front of me, grabbing my ID. “Samantha Willis, huh? Prima Vida magazine. Archibald Media.”
“Archibald?” Casey asks.
Shit. Now, she knows who I work for. Not good.
I snatch my ID away.
Her friend just chuckles, her nose turned up as her gaze sweeps me from head to toe.
She’s a snooty hawk — no, a duck pretending to be a hawk.
And she’s starting to get on my nerves.
“You’re not from a rich family, are you?” she asks.
Are you? I want to ask. I don’t even know who she is, after all.
I hold myself back, though.
Calm down, Samantha. Show some class. Don’t stoop down to her level.
“No, but—”
“What’s with this thing around your neck?”
Duh? “Um, it’s a camera.”
“A camera? You’re a spy?”
Um, spies don’t have big cameras hanging from their necks. Besides, didn’t she read from my ID that I work for a magazine? Either her short-term memory is much shorter than average, or she didn’t understand what she read.
She’s even stupider than a duck.
“No, I’m a photographer.”
She snorts. “So you say.”
Bitch.
“For all I know, you’re just using that camera so you can get close to Casey and Nathan.”
So, she admits she’s not one of the rich and elite.
“You mean like you’re pretending to be rich, smart and classy just so you can be friends with people like Casey?” The words slip.
I can’t help it. A person can take only so many insults.
Once I start, I can’t stop.
“You’re jus
t trying to impress her, aren’t you? That’s why you’re acting all sassy with me. Why? So she’ll keep taking you on shopping sprees? So you can keep getting manicures and massages for free?”
She gasps.
Yup, she’s not the only one who knows how to say something insulting.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I actually am a professional photographer,” I continue. “If you want, I can take a picture of you right now. Not that I think it will get published. After all, I’m not really sure anyone knows who you are.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “I’m Denise Glenn, Casey’s friend.”
I mirror the gesture. “Oh, is that all?”
Her arms fall to her sides, her fists clenching along with her jaw.
Boy, is she mad now!
What? Is she going to slap me? Pull my hair? If she does, she better be ready because I’m not going to back down.
This squirrel is going to bite and scratch.
She doesn’t do any of those, though. Instead, she takes a deep breath, her gaze going to my camera.
“Give me that thing.”
I step back, my hands instinctively shielding my camera.
Anything but my most prized possession.
“No.”
“Come on.” Denise steps forward. “I just want to make sure it’s working. What’s there to be afraid of? Unless, of course, it’s not working and you’re really lying about being a photographer.”
Lying? Didn’t she see my ID?
“Well?” She extends her hand.
Liar or no liar, there’s no way I’m going to hand over my camera, especially not to someone who doesn’t even know what a camera is.
“No,” I repeat. “Surely, you’ve had enough education to understand those two letters.”
Again, she seethes. “Give it to me.”
“No.”
“I said give it to me.”
“And I said no.”
“Why, you…”
She reaches for the camera around my neck, and I do my best to hold on to it while freeing it from her fingers.
“Give it to me,” she demands, tugging.
“Let go.” I pull back, holding my camera tighter.
That goes on for a few seconds — her pulling and me pulling back harder.
You can do anything you want to me but no one, and I mean no one, takes away my camera.