Page 48 of Tangled Trust

Amanda keeps staring at me. What is she waiting for? I’m not bloody curtsying if that’s what she’s thinking. I keep my eyes focused on hers. If there’s one thing you learn as a doctor, it’s how to keep your cool under pressure. There’s no way I’m backing down from this. She can glower at me until the cows come home.

I’m sure she’s going to blast me again, but she doesn’t. Instead, Amanda snorts in derision before she struts off, mincing like a drag queen on Jimmy Choos. A few minutes later, she passes the office again. This time, she pays me no mind. I remain seated until I hear the front door close. Thank God she’s flown off on her broom.

Carter returns. He’s looking rather harassed, so I hold my tongue. The poor man doesn’t need another woman chewing off his ear.

"I’m sorry about that," he says, raking his hands through his hair. "Amanda had no right to talk to you like that."

"It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl."

"Now. Where were we?"

"We were discussing the merits of milk and whiskey, I believe," I grin.

"Oh, yeah. That’s right," he smiles and sits on the edge of his desk. "So, we’re okay?"

"We’re fine," I smile.

"Trust Amanda to spoil the moment," he sighs. "I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our discussion another time. I have a conference call in five minutes and I’d better make sure I don’t look like a Snickers bar."

"You look good from where I’m sitting," I wink and get up to leave.

Carter catches me by the hand and pulls me close.

"One more thing before you go," he says in a low voice. "You are the sexiest Au Pair on the planet."

He kisses me, and my legs go lame.

* * *

Amanda bothers me. I know she is still in love with Carter. I’m under no illusion that he and I are now a couple, but I feel like it could become something special. However, I don’t want to flog a dead horse.

14

AMANDA

This is bullshit! He’s sleeping with the Au Pair. I know he is, and even though we are divorced, it doesn’t sit well with me. Nothing about this has been good from the start. Who is this woman? Surely, if she’s spending all this time with my son, I deserve to know more about her. The whole thing stinks to high Heaven.

California is a hotbed of hussies looking to climb their way to the top via the bedroom. Carter may be a standup guy, but he’s no match for a scheming hussy. No man is. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how a determined woman’s mind works. Men are clueless when it comes to seeing through the cunning machinations of a social-climbing woman.

It’s up to me to find out as much as I can about this English tart, Ella Jones, and warn Carter before it’s too late—before the bitch sinks her claws too deeply into the man I love. She isn’t fooling me with those doe eyes of hers!

I remember the name of the agency, so I look up the number and ask to speak to the agent that placed Ella with our family. I’m told she’s ill and will be back at the office in a few days. As if I’m not annoyed enough as it is, now I have to wait. This is utter bullshit, so I demand to have her cell number.

The plucky bitch on the other end of the line wants to know if there’s anything wrong with the placement. Is Ella problematic, or words to that effect.

"Look, I don’t care to discuss such matters with you," I snap at the little upstart. "I want to speak directly to Mrs. Digby about Ella Jones."

She’s a bit taken aback when I assert myself. She umms and ahhs before she asks me to hold for a moment. The elevator music playing in the background does nothing to improve my mood. Bloody saxophone music. Honestly! I’d rather have silence than this caterwauling.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Ma’am. I’ve spoken to Mrs. Darcy, and she’ll call you back in five minutes. Does that suit you, Mrs. Moore?"

I don’t correct her with regard to my title. For all intents and purposes, I’m making this phone call as Mrs. Moore, seeing as Carter is too bewitched to do so himself. Bloody idiot.

"That’s fine," I say and hang up, unwilling to waste more of my valuable time on this lackey.

I know who it is when my phone rings.

"Mrs. Darcy?" I answer.

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