One Look At You (23 page)

Not wanting to be rude, I take the glass and say my thanks. But, as I turn to go back, he touches my shoulder and I have no choice but to face him again.

“One dance. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” he asks, flashing that million-dollar actor smile.

“One dance, Mr. Rickman, and I shall have to go.”

He looks like a child who has just received a toy on his wish-list, so I can’t help but smile as I join him on the floor. After a sip of the champagne, I give my glass to one of the servers with trays. They’re playing one of my favorite tunes, so I start to dance to the rhythm. When the song is over, the band plays slow music and I have no choice but to follow his lead as he puts my arms around his neck and then wraps his arms around my waist. I laugh as he tells me a quick joke, but midway through the dance, I see Tony coming our way with a scowl on his face.

Instinctively, I move back from Ross’s arms and then see Tony bend to whisper something into my partner’s ear. Just like that, Ross gives me a curt nod and lets Tony take over.

“What did you say to him?” I whisper fiercely into Tony’s ear.

“I told him to get his own partner,” he says.

“But I was his partner.”

“You’re mine. No one else can have you,” he says in a soft voice.

His words incense me. “You have some nerve,” I say a little more loudly this time. I try to leave, but his arms are locked firmly around me.

“Let me go.”

He ignores me and holds me even tighter, molding my body to his. My whole body responds to his warm hands on my back and the hardness of his limbs.

“You’re making a scene. Please let me go.”

He is deaf to my pleas. “Why are you doing this?” My voice breaks in anger.

His eyes roam over my face. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says. Slowly and seductively, his gaze slides downward. My heart jolts and my pulse starts to pound. He bends to whisper his need for me in such raw, filthy language. I gasp in shock and then a tiny moan escapes my lips.
I can’t keep fighting how I feel. I can’t say no.

Just then, the ballroom door opens and she pauses, searching the room. “Izabel,” I say quietly.

“Livie, not now. We’ll have time to talk later,” he says in a pleading voice.

“No, I meant, she’s coming our way,” I say in an emotionless voice.

“Oh no,” he groans, then turns around and leaves me on the dance floor to go and meet her.

I keep my head high as I scurry to the side of the room and quietly exit.
Will you never learn, Olivia Harris?
I am weak. It doesn’t matter what he does.
It doesn’t matter what he says or doesn’t say. One look is all it takes.

I find Liz at the table. “Liz, I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry to have to ask this of you, but can you please take over for me?”

She looks like she wants to ask me something, but instead she quickly says, “Sure, go home and rest. You’ve done enough for one day.” I touch her arm in thanks.

I take out my cell phone from my purse and call Jen. “I want to go home,” I say, as tears threaten to stream down my face.

“I’m leaving right now.”

I sit by the planter box at the entrance of the venue. In twenty minutes’ time, I see Jen driving up. I get into the car without saying a word. I am wracked by sobs, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably from my devastating heartache.

I toss and turn all night. I am so exhausted, but my mind and body won’t let me sleep. My cell phone rings at two in the morning. Thinking there may be a problem with the clean-up at the ballroom venue, I answer.

“Livie, are you okay?” he immediately asks.

“Why won’t you let me be? What do you want?” I’m abrupt to the point of rudeness but I don’t care.

“Can we talk? I’ll send Lucas to pick you up.”

“Is it talk that you want or early morning sex? Where’s your wife? Oh, let me guess, you just want sleazy, no-strings-attached sex with me. Am I right?” My voice steadily goes up in volume.

“Livie, it’s not like that,” he says forcefully.

“That’s what it looks like to me, Tony. You crook your finger and you want me to come running. You’re feeling horny, and you want to play out your fantasies with me. Why? Because you think I’m easy and available… Not anymore. Go call someone else in your little black book. Better yet, why don’t you just be faithful to your wife? I don’t want to play your games anymore.” I hang up and slam my phone on the bedside table.

I’m still fuming after half an hour, so I decide to turn on my laptop. I type a letter of resignation addressed to Margaret, and I copy Tony. I don’t want to leave this way, without even a two-week’s notice, but I really have no choice since Tony has made it impossible for me to work there.

I email John, apologizing for my hasty resignation. I wish him and Ana the best, but make it clear that, unfortunately, I won’t be coming back.

At four in the morning, my eyelids start to fall. I cover myself with the blanket and finally sleep my sorrows away.

I become aware of the alarm continuously ringing. I reach for my phone and see that it’s already eight o’clock. I must have hit that snooze button so many times. I groan, feeling slightly drowsy from lack of sleep. For an instant, I can’t recall what day it is. Then it hits me, that it’s Monday. However, unlike other Mondays in the past, there is no need to rush. I can take my sweet time since I am now officially a member of the unemployed community.

Time was, when I would daydream about how I’d spend my day if I won the lottery and didn’t have to work. Right now, I actually can’t think of anything I want to do – other than, of course, search the job sites. I grab the notepad and pen next to me and start jotting out my to-do list. First item on my list – update resume. My pen is stuck in mid-air. I can’t seem to think of anything else that I should urgently attend to.
Hmm.
Perhaps a cup of coffee will help, so I put on my robe and go to the kitchen to make a pot.

As usual, Jen is running late, but she’s busy preparing coffee like she has all the time in the world. She smiles when she sees me joining her. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Jen, I emailed my resignation early this morning. Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure I find a new job immediately.”

“I’m not worried. I know you’ll find something. If you don’t, I can take care of the expenses while you get back on your feet. Then you can pay me back.”

“Thanks, Jen. I had to resign. You understand, don’t you?” I look at her with concern.

“Livie, what’s the matter with you? No explanations necessary.” She pours coffee into our mugs and hands me one.

“Thanks. I’ve had little sleep, but I know I have to get started on the job search.”

“One or two days of resting won’t matter. You deserve it anyway after working so hard on the Masquerade Ball. I’ll reach out to my contacts in social media. Maybe they’ll know of an opening somewhere.”

“That would be great.” I suddenly feel like making breakfast, so I ask, “Can you wait until I make us some French toast?”

“Wouldn’t say no to that,” she says with a laugh.

I grab the milk, eggs, and butter from the fridge, along with day-old brioche and cinnamon. I whisk the ingredients together, dip the bread in the mixture, and then start frying in butter. Super easy comfort food which we both love. I arrange the toast on small plates, get the forks and knives, and look for the maple syrup in the cabinet.

Anyone observing us would think we were eating caviar and truffles by the way we dive into the dish.

“This is sooo good,” Jen says.

“I know. We never have breakfast on weekdays so it’s a worthwhile indulgence.”

“What are you doing next?”

“I’ll probably do laundry. I have two weeks’ worth. Then grocery shopping. Make a sandwich and have a little picnic at the park. I don’t know. I’m taking your advice and playing everything by ear this week,” I say with a grin.

“I’m so envious, I’m tempted to call in sick.”

“Don’t be. After a day or two, I’ll probably be climbing up the walls and begging for any kind of work.”

“What about if we have Chinese later? My treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll get some kung pao chicken and steamed rice on the way home.”

“That would be nice.”

“Okay, I’m going. Thanks for breakfast.” As she departs through the front door, she suddenly pauses and shouts, “Liv, I totally forgot about your package. It came around seven. I put it on top of my bed since it’s marked fragile. Door’s not locked.”

“Package? Oh, that’s probably the cork board I ordered for my bedroom from Amazon. I’ll hang it later.” I read somewhere that a vision board can help one focus on life goals. Well, change of plans. Right now, the only affirmation I should be repeating to myself is ‘I will get a good job.’ I decide to open it later when I’m done with my chores. Maybe I’ll hang it in the kitchen, and Jen and I can use it as a message board instead.

I go to the laundry area and start separating the lights from the darks. After I load the first batch into the washing machine, I enter into my notes app a list of all the staples we need, including toiletries. I intend to buy groceries which will be good for at least a month. I also make a mental note to write Jen a check in advance for the end of the month. That way, I’ll know I’ve taken care of my obligations at least until close to October.

The machine’s not on anymore. Time to load the wet clothes into the dryer and put in a second load for washing. Meanwhile, I boil some eggs for a simple egg salad sandwich which I plan to bring with me to the park with one of the books I’ve borrowed from the library. Maybe Jen’s right – this week, all I’ll do is decompress. I need to clear the cobwebs from my mind and start fresh.

My phone rings and I can see Gallo’s on the caller identification. I don’t pick up. The phone rings three more times. Every call goes to voicemail. I feel guilty. What if it’s John or one of the executive assistants? They may be calling about something important. The only way I can stop myself from responding or calling back is to completely turn off my phone. This, I reluctantly do. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say to no one in particular.
I have to do what I have to do
.

I’m on page 150 of
She Had No Chance,
a compelling courtroom drama set in the 1950s. I was lucky enough to find a spot under a huge Magnolia tree when I arrived at the park. After spreading my blanket and putting my little food basket next to me, I started to read, and I haven’t put the book down since then. I’d forgotten the joy of doing nothing, or at least reading a paperback with no interruptions. I just may get used to this. I smile inwardly at the thought. I am so engrossed with the book that I’ve actually forgotten to eat the sandwich I packed.

I finally bring out the sandwich, chips, and bottled water. Despite the fact that I’m wearing a bandeau and shorts, the heat is starting to get to me so I sip from the bottle. I see a middle-aged, fair-haired man coming my way. He looks familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen him. When he’s about ten feet away, I clearly see his face. I know who he is. I hurriedly put everything back in the basket, grab my purse and blanket, and start to walk-run in the opposite direction.

“Miss Harris! Miss Harris!” He says my name loudly and many people turn to look at the man who’s practically shouting my name.

With his long strides, he’s catching up to me and I stop, knowing it will be futile for me to try to escape him.

“Why are you here, Lucas?” I don’t want to be rude to him, but I know Tony has asked him to find me and I’m very close to blowing up at this intrusion of my privacy.

He says nothing, waiting for me to say something again.

“Tell your boss to leave me alone,” I say with an anger that’s close to becoming a scalding fury.

“I’m to escort you back to his hotel room,” he says without expression.

“Really? How will you manage that when all I have to do is to start screaming at the top of my voice for everyone around to come running to my side?”

“Please, Miss Harris. Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says with a slight smile.

I sigh loudly. “How did you even track me to this place?”

“I don’t know how Mr. Avery obtained the information.”

Oh, what’s the use?
Maybe it’s best for me to just pretend to listen and then leave. He’ll leave me alone once he realizes I have no intention of going back to him, either personally or professionally. “Fine. Take me to Mr. Avery. On one condition. Please be on stand by. Our conversation won’t be long, and you’ll have to bring me back as soon as it’s over.”

He nods in agreement. We walk to the car without talking to one another. I sense the curious stares of some of the passers-by as I get into the town car.

I hear Lucas talking to someone on his cell. “We’re on our way, sir.”

I wish we weren’t meeting at his hotel room, but I do understand that whatever discussion we’ll be having has to take place somewhere private. I take a deep breath and then knock softly on his door. Immediately, he lets me in. “Thank you for coming, Livie.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I say petulantly.

“Please,” he says as he indicates the sofa close to the coffee table. I sit down primly on the edge of the sofa, feeling ill at ease with the brevity of my outfit. His eyes flicker down briefly to my legs, and I steel myself not to react.

“Why have you brought me here?” I say without preamble.

“Livie, I’ve been wanting to have a talk with you since my departure, but there was never any time.”

“I don’t really think there’s anything to talk about.”

“I want to explain what’s been going on because you’re probably jumping to the wrong conclusions about what’s happened the past few weeks.”

“I don’t jump to conclusions, Tony. Whatever I feel or think is based on the facts before me.”

“I don’t mean to imply anything.” He seems at a loss for words. He ruffles his hand through his hair and finally sits down on the opposite end of the sofa. He stares at me for a very long time. My heart starts to pound but, outwardly, I remain cool and composed.