Walking toward the window with his back to her, he added, “Why don’t you invite Miss MacFadden over to my place tonight. I think I’d like to see her.”
If he could hear the silent screams
inside her, he gave no hint of it, for he didn’t turn to look at her again. Silently, Lucy gathered each of the twelve mean little donuts from the floor and quietly left his office to dial the dreaded number of the suddenly hated Miranda MacFadden.
Now, standing with the jewelry box in her hands, she told herself she needed to stop thinking of him, needed to stay focused, keep her eye on the prize, her mind on that one single goal. Her career.
Perhaps tomorrow she should make time to meet with Simon Morris, Holden’s right hand in mergers and acquisitions, and outline her idea for the stock company she had been following during the last couple years. The company was badly managed and had just been unlisted from the Nasdaq, but it had so much potential. If only someone could bring it to Holden’s attention, someone he would listen to—not the assistant who dropped his donuts!
“Why is my son angry?” she heard an imperious voice say behind her.
Lucy forced a smile when she turned to Mrs. Holden. Because she didn’t know what to say, she said, “Mrs. Holden, your son is angry all the time, and I’m sure I have no idea why.”
The woman laughed and smacked Lucy on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club, Divine. Now, how about a game of bridge?”
“I’ll play if you show me how. And what do you think about an early dinner in the privacy of your room?” Lucy countered.
“Puuurfect, Miss Divine. You seem to read my mind now that you’re starting to know me.”
Lucy smiled and followed Mrs. Holden to her bedroom, where she kept and entertained her during the rest of the evening, so as not to distract His Mighty Royal Pain in the Butt from his night of sex with the holy, reverent, magnificent Miranda MacFadden. Lucy inwardly hoped his precious Miss MacFadden—who’d sounded like a real bitch on the phone—had a very contagious, very serious sexual infection so he would get what he deserved for being so domineering and selfish.
He was so not worth it, she wouldn’t even think about him anymore. Let him have all his fun with the MacFadden hussy, Lucy couldn’t care less. Besides, they were made for each other because Patrick Holden was an ass.
When finally Mrs. Holden took to her bed and Lucy walked down the hallway, wanting nothing more than to get home, she heard voices out in the living room. His-and-her voices. She slowed her pace, careful not to make a sound, and paused at the end of the hallway, realizing she would have to cross the living room to get to the elevators, and fearing what Holden would say for the interruption.
“I was so surprised when I got the call from your secretary. I never thought you’d even noticed me. And I reeeeally admire you, Patrick. Your charisma, your charm…” said the female voice.
Your millions, Lucy mentally filled in. She stifled a laugh and wrinkled her nose. The woman sounded false and plastic.
“I can’t blame you, Miranda,” came his deeper, achingly sensual voice. “If I were a woman, I’d admire a man like me, too.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. My God, the man was so full of himself! That conceited, self-centered, arrogant—
“Oh Patrick, kiss me,” she breathed, then came a small little whimper, and then an unbearable silence, disturbed only seconds afterward by a sensual cat-like purr.
Lucy’s stomach clenched because, although she couldn’t see them, her brain imagined them—him mostly. It was hell to imagine those hands, the same ones she’d seen wrapped around his cell phone so many times, the ones that had gently held her own face this morning, now holding that woman’s face while he kissed her.
God, she suddenly became extremely, potently aware of the fact that she hated him. Damn that son of a—!
No, she wasn’t going to insult Mrs. Holden. But…ugh! Why did she even care if he was kissing that gold digger?
But for some strange reason, she did care, very much, because her insides felt like something she was sure could only compare to the utter chaos and confusion during a massive world war.
Lucy unwittingly made a little sound, one that tore from deep in her throat and which she tried to muffle but couldn’t. Her heart stopped beating when she feared she might have been heard, and quickly her fingers pressed to her lips to stifle any more unwanted noises.
“What’s wrong?” said the soft, feminine voice from the living room.
There was a deadly silence before Holden replied, and Lucy felt frantic, desperately wanting to hide. If he caught her eavesdropping it would surely be the end of her career, and she’d already put so much of her heart into this for it to amount to nothing. She glanced around and slowly tiptoed toward the closet in the hall, sliding the wooden pocket door open silently.
“I’m sorry, Miranda, but I think we’re going to have to call it a night, reschedule some other time,” she heard him say.
Lucy didn’t even wait to hear the woman’s reply. Instead, she briskly snuck into the darkened closet and carefully slid the door shut.
She remained there for what seemed like an eternity, feeling the room grow unbearably hot, and although it should have been impossible it seemed to shrink in size. Suddenly she became aware of a life-threatening lack of oxygen. And then, as if by magic, the door slowly began to roll open.
“Hello, Miss Divine.”
She cleared her throat, which had suddenly run dry. “Mr. Holden.”