After Harry’s visit, Magenta’s day really took a nosedive. Every time Kirsty was anywhere near her, she nagged her to spend time with Harry. It had gotten to the stage where Magenta was planning to lock her boss in the storeroom in order to get some peace.
Then, just when she’d managed to get Kirsty to leave the topic alone, the door opened and in walked Harry’s designer sidekick—Executive Barbie. As usual, she was scowling. Magenta didn’t need Harry’s genius IQ to see that the woman didn’t want to be stuck in Scotland. With a fortifying breath, she plastered on her fake smile and faced the woman.
“Can I help you with something?” Please say no. Please say no. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with yet another person’s issues.
“I’m Harry’s executive manager of operations, Rachel.” She said the title as though she was announcing her royal heritage. Magenta kept her face carefully blank. Didn’t Harry have less than ten employees? Bet that made “executive manag
ing” a whole lot easier.
“Magenta,” Magenta said, because it seemed rude not to give her name.
“I know who you are.” Rachel folded her arms over her designer business suit and tapped perfectly manicured nails.
The woman was wearing five-inch stilettos. No wonder she was grumpy. Magenta would be grumpy too if her feet were killing her all day long.
“What can I do for you?” she asked, hoping it would speed things along.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kirsty paying close attention to the conversation.
“What can you do?” Rachel gave a mirthless laugh. “You could stay away from Harry. That would be great. You could tell him plainly that you have no interest in him—which you clearly don’t—and send him back to London. Where he belongs. Where we both belong.”
Magenta clenched her fists. She did not like being told what to do. By anyone.
“I’m not keeping Harry here. Go back to London any time you like.”
“Oh, but you are.” Rachel pursed her lips in disgust. “He came here to talk to you. Unless you shut that down, he’ll stay here until it happens. He can be very stubborn.”
“Ha! Pigheaded, more like.”
Rachel stared at Magenta. “I want to go back to London. I don’t want to move the business up here. The only decent thing about this town is this lingerie shop.”
“Thank you,” Kirsty shouted from the back of the shop.
Magenta almost rolled her eyes.
“The people we need to deal with are in London. Not this backwater. This cultural desert. This haven for inbred—”
Magenta held up a hand. “I get it. Invertary bad. London good.”
Rachel frowned, then forced a smile. “We both know you aren’t interested in Harry. Whatever you two were to each other is in the past. And I think you’d like to keep it there. So why don’t you make that clear to him and we’ll all be happy?” She turned towards the door. “Think about it,” she ordered.
The door closed loudly behind her. Kirsty came up to stand beside Magenta. They stared at the door.
“I know who she reminds me of,” Kirsty said. “Remember in one of the X-Men movies there was a woman with an adamantine skeleton, like Wolverine? They fought. Wolverine won. Wolverine will always win, because he’s the perfect man.” Kirsty gave a wistful sigh as she pointed at Rachel’s back. “That’s who she is. She’s the evil version of Wolverine.”
Magenta stared at her friend for a moment. “Does your fiancé know about this unhealthy obsession you have with a superhero?”
Kirsty smiled. “You’re not going to do what she told you to, are you? She warned you off. Isn’t that like your version of a red flag to a bull? Shouldn’t you charge out there to spend time with Harry purely to defy her ultimatum?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I am an adult. I’m not going to do something I don’t want to do in order to spite a crazy stranger. She’s Harry’s problem. I don’t want anything to do with either of them.”
“She is right about one thing,” Kirsty said. “Harry is very stubborn. If he wants to spend time with you, he’ll make it happen.”
“He can try.” Magenta stormed back to the rack she was cleaning.
“What is your problem, anyway? Why are you so set against Harry? You two used to be close. What did he do that’s so unforgivable?”
Magenta felt her stomach clench. “It wasn’t him. It was me. I said things that were unforgivable.”