Page 87 of A Billion Dollar Romance
CHAPTER42
James
“Good morning, Alice,”I said, delivering yet another sweet bun in yet another paper bag. She let me put it on her desk, but didn’t acknowledge it further. Buying it had made me think of her–Edie–my stomach turning unpleasantly.
“Good morning, Mr. Martin,” she said.
Still not forgiven, then.
I passed into my office, but wasn’t able to drink my coffee, staring blankly at my emails, the lump in my stomach growing. I waited until I couldn’t stand it any more, and pressed the intercom button.
“Alice, could you step into my office for a moment?”
“Of course, sir,” she said, icily professional.
The door clicked open and my secretary came in, standing just inside. “Sir?” she asked.
“I wanted to let you know, Alice, that it isn’t true. I didn’t sleep with Edie when she was my student.”
“Of course, sir,” she said.
“You don’t believe me?” I said. Her lips pursed.
“Of course I believe you.”
“It… doesn’t seem like you do,” I said. It came out halfway between a statement and a question.
“Well, it doesn’t matter much what I think, does it?” she asked. “Sir,” she added, and my eyes narrowed. “It only matters what the readers think.”
Ah.
She knew.
Obviously she did–she’d been the one scheduling the lawyers. I’d been so,sostupid.
“Ah,” I said, hesitating.
The excuses were on my tongue. The explanation: that we had needed something quick, to rescue sales. That Edie was perfect for the role, and convenient, besides.
But when I opened my mouth, all that came out was, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. Not to you.”
Alice had been there for my first book deal, when I was too proud to admit that it was half-luck, half-legacy that had earned it, and my second, when I’d been too scared to read the reviews, afraid of a sophomore slump, and then later, when I’d pretended to have forgotten that it was all undeserved, that the women whose beds I spent my time in filled the hole left by my fear of failure. Alice was there as I left for my semester of teaching, hungover even as I said my goodbyes, smelling of a stranger’s cloying perfume, and when I returned, now smelling of the pine trees that surrounded the campus. I hadn’t stayed long–had run, really–to the cabin, where I’d spent my days writing and my nights drinking; alone, this time, without the temptation of a society party and a woman in my bed.
And Alice had been there when my grandfather died and his estate called me home to the city, to my silent, cold penthouse. She’d been there, keeping the company running, while I floundered in the unfamiliar paperwork, the numbers and the jargon. She’d been there as I fell into my old habits, as the tabloids began running my picture again. I was older now, the lines of my suits sharper and those on my face deeper, and this time it wasn’tacclaimed author, but the wordsVerity Publishingnext to my name.
No wonder she’d been so happy to see me with Edie,I thought.
“No, you shouldn’t have. I was happy for you, Jamie,” she said. “I thought you might have a chance at what your grandfather had. And your parents.”
I swallowed hard.
“But it appears it was all a sham. It was all just… more of your bad behavior.”
“I was trying to take responsibility,” I said, the words tasting bitter. “To clean up my reputation.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I know I’m an old lady, James, but I’m not a fool. You making that girl play your silly game was no such thing,” she snapped.
“I–”
