Gloria's Revenge (5 page)

He leaned in to me, his stinking breath heating my face. “I don’t pay you two million dollars a year and a hefty bonus to fuck your brains out with that Zander piece of shit in Paris.”

Despite my shallow breathing, I held my own and looked straight into his eyes. “I was there on personal business, and I also met with Sandrine, the General Manager of the Champs-Elysées store.”

His lips snarled. “Don’t bullshit me, Gloria. I’m not a patient man.”

My eyes stayed lock on his. Though my heart was racing, I was not going to let him intimidate me. “I know why you hate him.”
And why he hates you.
My body contorted with fury at the thought of him physically abusing young Jaime.

His face grew glacial. “It doesn’t matter why I hate him. What disturbs me more than his relationship with Gloria’s Secret is his personal relationship with you. This is no time to be fucking your brains out. In case you didn’t know, while you were getting it on in Paris, there was a big sell off this morning of Gloria’s Secret stock. The stock plunged twenty points. Your job is on the line. There’s a lot of speculation that you’ll be out on your sweet ass soon.”

My stomach knotted up. How was that possible? By all Wall Street estimates, our earnings were solid and our forecast healthy. In fact, before the long weekend, the stock had closed at an all time high, and many analysts had put Gloria’s Secret stock on their “Buy now” list, expecting further growth. Kevin’s “urgent” e-mails flashed into my head— the stock crisis, that’s what they must have been about.

Victor’s sinister eyes bore into mine. “I’m not going to save your precious ass, Gloria, unless you give me what I want.”

My blood simmered. He was threatening me. His body pressed harder against mine, his repulsive erection pulsing against my middle. My eyes clashed with his. “I don’t have to give you anything, Victor, except my commitment to the growth of Gloria’s Secret. This is harassment.”

“You don’t know what harassment is. Let me show you.” Allowing his helmet to tumble onto the polished marble floor, he lifted his right hand to my face and pinched a cheek. With the other, he poked my clit with the handle of his riding crop.

I winced. “Let go of me, Victor. You’re hurting me.”

He poked my clit again and then moved his slimy lips closer to mine. Before they could touch down, the elevator doors parted. Startled, he released me. He quickly picked up his helmet and straightened his riding jacket.

Confession: So much of me wanted to see Jaime standing before me. The fantasy of him grabbing Victor’s riding crop and striking him with it played in my head. Giving the fuckwad what he deserved.

It was Tyrone with my luggage. Though wishing it had been Jaime, I inwardly sighed with relief. My pulse rate remained accelerated. I was still reeling from Victor’s vicious assault and threat.

Tyrone was a six foot seven hunk of a man that, trust me, you didn’t want to mess with. With a contemptuous huff, Victor stiffly headed out the elevator. As the doors began to close, he struck his riding crop against one of them, forcing them to open again.

“Have a nice day, Gloria, and think about my offer or Tyrone may be out of a job too.” His chilly voice matched his demeanor as he strode into the lobby.

The whites of Tyrone’s eyes popped. “Waz that man talking about?”

It was no secret that Tyrone despised Victor. Why not? The arrogant Chairman of the Board looked down upon him and had once even told him to his face that he should go back to the ghetto streets from where he’d come. I’d literally had to jump between them so that Ty didn’t physically take Victor down. The violent streak in Tyrone was something to be feared.

“Nothing, Ty.”

Tyrone, no dummy, could see I was visibly shaken as I pressed the button for my penthouse. My fingers were jittery. “You okay, Ms. Long?”

I nodded. “Yes, thank you.” Truthfully, as the doors slid closed again and the elevator made its ascent, I felt like the ground was opening beneath me, and I was falling into a deep abyss.

Jaime Zander had fucked with my heart enough in the last forty-eight hours, and now I had to contend with his vicious stepfather Victor and the possibility that I was going to lose everything I had built. The truth was hard to face. I swallowed hard past the painful lump in my throat.

Usually after a long business trip, I found comfort being back home. My spacious, two-story sunlit apartment had been elegantly furnished in an all white and gilt Hollywood Regency style by one of Los Angeles’s top interior designers, and it had views of Los Angeles from all sides. From the many windows, I could see downtown skyscrapers, the majestic mansion-dotted Hollywood Hills, and the sparkling Pacific Ocean. The spectacular panoramic view usually brought me peacefulness, but today it did nothing to alleviate the sick sinking feeling in both my heart and stomach.

After Ty took my luggage upstairs and departed, I immediately tried calling Kevin. No answer. He must have been on ten phones at once putting out fires. I left him a message to call me back ASAP.

With my cell phone in one hand and my handbag in the other, I trudged up the stately winding stairs and collapsed onto my sumptuous four-poster bed. Outstretched on my thick duvet, I stared blankly at the high ceiling. My stomach twisted with nerves, and my heart beat a mile a minute. I couldn’t think straight. My head was pounding. Was my job really on the line? Was I going to have to give in to Victor’s lascivious demands to save myself and the company I’d built from the ground up? I closed my eyes and dug holes into my temples with my index fingers, hoping to numb the pain and get some clarity. It was futile. I was close to hyperventilating.
Breathe, Gloria
,
breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale
. I did it again and again and again. Finally, the deep breathing exercise kicked in, and my torrent of emotions settled. I snapped my eyes open and glanced at the alarm clock on my night table. 2:30 p.m.

“C’est la guerre,”
Madame Paulette had often said when things got rough. The strength of this amazing women seeped into my veins. Yes, this was war, but I had faced worse battles before. The memory of Boris Borofsky holding a gun to my chest flashed in and out of my head. I had stared death in the face and beat it.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I reached for my cell phone and dialed the front desk.

“Can you please bring my car around,” I asked the building attendant. I was going to drive myself to my office and find out first-hand what was going on.

I jumped out of the bed and quickly shed my leggings uniform. I ambled over to my hand-painted lingerie chest and rifled through it until I found what I was looking for. They were not hard to find: my cherry red lace push up bra with the front bow closing, matching thong, and garter. From the drawer below, I pulled out a fresh pair of black sheer silk stockings. I scrambled to put on the undergarments and then sat back down on the bed to slip on the stockings. I gingerly rolled them up over my bruised legs and clipped them to the bow-tipped garters. My legs went from being mush to steel.

I then paraded into my walk-in closet and yanked one of my favorite power suits off a hanger—my red bouclé Chanel. Red, the color of fire and blood. The color of power. I quickly slipped it on. I then scoured my Louis Vuitton travel trunk for the pair of shoes I was seeking. I found them quickly—spiky black patent pumps with killer red souls—the Louboutins I’d worn to the ZAP! pitch. I slipped them onto my feet and suddenly I was six inches taller. Jaime had called them my “fuck me” shoes. I had a new name for them—
fuck you
shoes.

I had set my priorities straight. Fuck Jaime. Fuck Victor. What mattered most was the future of everything I’d worked for. Gloria’s Secret. I was not going to let any man make me—or my empire—fall apart.

I quickly re-braided my hair and applied my favorite red lipstick. I was back to being in control.

Chapter 7

T
he drive from my condo to my office took fifteen minutes. It was located in Culver City. Occupying the lot of a former movie studio, it was a compound consisting of executive offices, a design studio, and a manufacturing plant. I was proud to say that all Gloria’s Secret garments were made with love in America. And I equally prided myself on the high company morale. Employees were paid fairly and received excellent benefits, including childcare and opportunities to further their education. I never forgot my roots and felt obliged to give back.

Passing through gated security, I drove my black hardtop Porsche into the parking lot and pulled it into the spot reserved for me. My name “Gloria” with our signature pink heart beneath it was scrawled on the reserved parking sign; it always brought a big smile to my face. I had worked hard for this spot and no one, especially Victor Holden, was going to take it away from me. To my relief, Kevin’s car, a cute leafy green Fiat convertible, was parked next to mine. I couldn’t wait to see him and hear his take on what was going on.

Holding my purse in one hand and my briefcase in the other, I marched into the sprawling two-story building that housed my office. Madame Paulette had always said, “Form equals meaning.” With that in mind, I had designed the interior of our main office building to reflect our brand. It was whimsical, sexy, and feminine. The feeling of a boudoir. Sleek white leather couches sat on zebra-patterned rug and were surrounded by framed poster-size covers of various Gloria’s Secret catalogues on the walls. The receptionist sat behind a massive shiny white Formica elliptical console that bore a colossal vase of fragrant hot pink roses. The Gloria’s Secret logo with its insignia hot pink heart was plastered on the wall behind her. Claudia, the lovely redheaded Latino receptionist who I’d mentored through my Girls Like Us program, had her face buried in her computer.

“Good afternoon, Claudia,” I said.

Startled, the young, pretty receptionist looked up from her computer with a gasp. “Gloria!”

Her wide eyes told me she was surprised to see me. I hadn’t told anyone, even Kevin, that I was returning to the office today.

“Are you okay?” Her face was tensed up and her voice wavered.

The beginnings of rage coursed through my blood. Did even the receptionist know about the stock crisis and my uncertain future with the company? Damn it! I bet everyone knew. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. “Yes, Claudia. Everything’s just fine.” I forced a small smile and stomped down the long hallway to my office. I cursed Victor Holden every heel-clicking step of the way.
Fuck him! Yes, fuck him!

Nervous hellos accompanied by nervous faces bombarded me as I marched through the corridor. My façade was cheerful but inside I was cringing. Yes, everyone knew!

When I got to my corner suite, I expected to see Vivien sitting outside my office at her desk. Her desk instead was vacant, but truthfully, I was relieved. I despised the little vixen, who’d seduced Jaime Zander, almost as much as I despised her father. Just like him, she was ruthless, crafty, and vindictive. A diabolical dominatrix. She was not to be trusted. Not one bit.

I surmised she must be in the restroom. She made it a habit of primping herself before a mirror several times a day. Often, she would be away from her desk for long stretches of time. Once, almost an hour. I’d caught her trying on new clothes and ordered her back to her desk. She completely ignored me. She was the Chairman of the Board’s daughter and knew she could get away with it. And there was no way I could fire her.

The shock of the stock crash and my impending doom was nothing compared to the shock I got when I stepped foot inside my spacious crystal chandelier-lit office, a slightly smaller version of the lobby. I froze. Seated in my hot pink velvet swivel chair behind my white lacquered desk was Vivien. Her eyes clashed with mine. A raging fire surged inside me.

“What are you doing at my desk?”

A poisonous smile slithered across her face. “Daddy told me that you may be on your way out. I was just trying your desk out for size.”

My eyes narrowed into blades of steel. “I’m not going anywhere. Now, get the fuck out of my chair!”

Not wiping off her wicked smirk, she slowly stood up. She was wearing a so very-Vivien purple knit mini dress that clenched her curvy body and accentuated her globe-sized fake boobs.

“You know, Gloria, you shouldn’t treat your employees so rudely. Isn’t there some kind of company policy forbidding lewd language? You’re just lucky I’m not going to go to human resources and report you for harassment.”

I could actually visualize puffs of smoke blowing out of my nostrils. Clenching my fists, I kept my eyes on her as she sauntered out of my office. At the doorway, she paused and pivoted her head. “By the way, Gloria, I forgot to ask you. How was Paris with Jaime? I hear that may be over soon too.”

I could feel my face reddening with rage. How the hell did she know what was going on with Jaime and me? Even Victor didn’t know the extent of our relationship. And why was she so sure it was coming to an end? I bit down hard-on my lip to stifle a snake-tongued retort and clenched my fists tighter so that I wouldn’t throw something at her. Or strangle her.

“Please send me the latest sales reports when you get back to your desk,” I finally managed through gritted teeth. “And close the door behind you.”

“No problem,” she replied snidely. On her way out, she slammed the door shut.

Inhaling a gulp of air, I sat down at my desk. The cloying scent of Vivien lingered in the air and nauseated me. I immediately got to work and responded to the influx of e-mails that were facing me on my large state-of-the-art computer screen. Right after I responded to a meeting with one of our fabric vendors, an e-mail from Sales with the most recent Excel sales reports attached came through. My heart pounded. I wasted no time opening the attachments and perusing them.

By the time I got to the fifth report, my nerves calmed down. Sales were as steady as always. In fact, U.S. and international sales were stronger than ever. I was now more befuddled than anxious. What could be causing so many to sell off the stock and causing the price of shares to plummet? I needed to do more research—find out what investors had bailed. I shot off an urgent e-mail to Finance to compile a list.

“Glorious!”

My door swung open and my eyes looked up. Kevin.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming into the office?” Wearing stylish shorts and high tops, he jogged over to me, and we hugged. God, did I need a big dose of Kevin!

I perched my left elbow on my desk and wearily sunk my chin into my palm while Kevin plunked down into one of the two pink and white striped armchairs positioned in front of my desk. My right hand rested on my lap beneath my desk.

I didn’t know where to begin. “Oh, Kev, it’s been just a fucking nightmare since I got back from Paris.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been on rumor control all day. My phones haven’t stopped ringing. I’m sorry couldn’t get back to you.” He paused. “I’ve got bad news.”

My eyes widened with a skip of my heartbeat.
Now what?

His expression turned somber. “The
New York Times
is going to run a front-page story in the Business Section tomorrow about our stock sell off. The headline:
Gloria’s Secret CEO Rumored to Exit as Stock Plummets.

“Fuck!” I banged my desk with my left fist.

Kevin lowered his long-lashed hazel eyes and nervously twisted his diamond stud earring. “I’m sorry, Glorious. I couldn’t stop them.”

I despondently shook my head. “Kev, it’s not your fault. But I just don’t get it. There’s no reason for investors to be jittery. I just reviewed our sales reports and forecasts, and they’re all solid. And with our new BDSM-inspired line and the launch of our sex toys, we should be golden.”

Kevin looked up and met my pensive eyes. “I’m as surprised as you are. But one thing’s for sure, if you’re leaving, I’m leaving with you.”

I rose and came around my desk to give him another great big hug. “I love you, Kev.”

“Right back at you, Glorious.”

I plopped down on my desk, crossing my legs and placing my hands under my butt. Kev and I had been through so much together. If it hadn’t been for him, there would be no Gloria’s Secret. I owed him my career and my life. There was no one I trusted more than Kevin. Or loved. Except…

Kevin cut my thoughts short. “So, tell me something good. How was Paris?”

My shoulders heaved on a loud sigh. The only good thing about the stock crisis was that it had kept my mind off Jaime. But at the mention of Paris, all the dreamy memories came racing back into my head.

“Oh, Kev, it was fucking amazing.”

Kevin’s face brightened. “Don’t hold back. Tell me everything.”

Kevin was the one person I confided in completely. Like a broken record, I relayed everything that had happened there beginning with Madame Paulette’s dignified funeral, my encounter with Victor, and Jaime’s rescue.

“Victor’s a fucking douchebag,” Kevin grumbled.

“It gets worse and more complicated.” I proceeded to share Jaime’s past and the knowledge that Victor was Jaime’s abusive stepfather and that Vivien had seduced him when he was a teenager.

Kevin’s eyes widened. “This is like a bad soap opera.”

Continuing, I told Kevin about the Ferris wheel ride and then about our turbulent plane ride home.

“Get out! That’s so fucking off the fuck charts. I mean like a hundred on a scale of one to ten.”

I laughed—something I so needed to do. And then my expression morphed from cheerfulness back to gloom. Tears stormed my eyes.

“What’s the matter, Glorious? Everything with Jaime sounds so fan-fucking-tastic.”

My right hand came out from under my butt to wipe away a tear that had escaped. Kevin batted his eyes in shock.

“Glorious, what’s that on your middle finger?”

“It’s a
toi et moi
ring.” I paused, having deliberately omitted this detail, and then sighed. “Jaime gave it to me on the Ferris wheel.”

Kevin grasped my hand and examined the brilliant double diamond ring close up. “Holy shit! This man is seriously in love with you.”

The floodgates broke loose; a tsunami of tears rushed down my face. “No, Kev. He’s not. I’m just another one of his many fucks. He was really devastated by his father’s suicide after his mother left him for Victor. He has serious commitment issues.”

“I don’t believe that. No man gives a ring like this to someone he doesn’t care about.”

“Trust me, he’s not that into me. He even has a date with someone else tonight.”

Kevin furrowed his brows. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive. When I asked him if he wanted to have dinner with me, he told me he had a previous commitment. And right before we left Paris, I overheard him on his cell tell someone he called ‘babe’ that he’d hook up with her as soon as he got to LA.”

“That sucks big time.” Kevin brushed away my tears. He was one of the few people I didn’t feel embarrassed crying in front of. He had seen me shed many tears over my lifetime.

My sobs subsided a little. “Kev, thanks for listening. I’ve talked way too much about myself. What about you? What’s going on?”

He let out a girlish sigh. “Nothing good. Jaime’s assistant Ray was a great fuck, but it turns out he’s in a relationship.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I truly was. Kevin never had any luck in the boyfriend department. Life was just so unfair. I gave my dear friend a peck on the cheek. “Ray doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.” My Kev tweaked a smile.

“Glorious, I’ve got to get back to work. There’s still a lot of fires to put out.”

Nodding, I smiled back at him. “Let me know if there’s anything you need from me.” A warm feeling radiated inside me. I was so blessed to have Kevin in my life.

“Hey, what are you up to tonight?” he asked at the doorway before exiting my office.

“Nothing.”

A grin lit up his face. “Then you’re invited to a Pity Party for Two at my place.”

“Can’t wait!” My lips curled into a smile. I had something to look forward to. Kev and I had celebrated—or should I say, moped—together this way before. It meant pigging out on pepperoni pizza, a bottle or two or more of wine, a gallon of Haagen-Dazs vanilla ice cream… and sometimes a good cry. This deadly combination was a panacea for all troubles, no matter how big or small. It was, before Jaime came into my life, the only way I ever let myself lose control.

After Kevin went back to his office to deal with our stock nightmare —I’m sure the
Wall Street Journal
among other business periodicals would be breaking the story too—I continued to study the sales reports and forecasts. I focused hard, forcing Jaime out of my mind every time he snuck into it. After carefully reviewing all of the material, I still couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. I was more perplexed than ever about the sudden sell off. Was I missing something? A ping on my computer signaling a new e-mail diverted my attention. It was from Lou Bartone in Finance…responding to my inquiry. I immediately opened it. As I read it, my eyes grew wide. Victor Holden had been among the early shareholders who had traded in the stock. Fifty thousand shares to be exact, I recognized several other names on the list—most were close business associates of Victor’s. A mixture of rage and confusion consumed me. Was Victor playing dirty? Was he deliberately trying to bring me down? With an angry jab of my finger, I forwarded Lou’s e-mail to him. Above the list of investor names, I typed:
Can you please explain?
What I really wanted to write was:
What the fuck?

I stared anxiously at my computer screen waiting for Victor’s response. One thing Victor always did was return e-mails promptly. Five minutes passed by. And then another. Nothing. Victor was definitely ignoring me. I thought about calling him, but then remembered he was most likely in the middle of a dressage session at his Malibu ranch where he kept his horses. It was odd that Victor would be off playing with his horses and incommunicado in the middle of a major stock crisis. On second thought, perhaps this was a blessing in disguise because the thought of hearing his sinister, calculating drawl was revolting. The last thing I wanted to hear was another one of his intimidating threats or sexual come-ons.
Pig!