Page 140 of Positively Pricked
"So, let me get this straight," I said. "Zane Bennington – our boss – told Boris Feldman that I was hismistress? Am I understanding that right?"
Sounding more nervous than ever, she whispered, "Oh, no. You're angry, aren't you?"
Yes.
I was.
But not at her.
On the phone, Carla muttered, "I knew I should've kept my big mouth shut."
By now, I hardly knew what to think. But Ididknow that none of this was Carla's fault. Absently, I murmured, "No. It's fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Uh, yeah." I paused. "Wait a minute. Wasthatwhy you were so nervous when that guy showed up with those flowers?"
"Well, wouldn'tyoube nervous?" she whispered. "I mean, I know Mister Bennington sees other people, but…" Again, her words trailed off.
"ButIdon't?"
How humiliating was this?I could only imagine what everyone thought of me. Not only was I the ho-bag sleeping with my boss, but I was so pathetic that I lethimrun around like some kind of horn-dog while I waited at his beck and call.
Carla sighed. "Well, I've neverseenyou with anyone else, except the guy with the flowers. And you seemed pretty eager to get rid of him, so I just figured…" She paused. "You know what? This is really none of my business."
All of this was giving me a headache. I reached up to rub my temples. By now, I hardly knew what to say. Somehow, I managed to mumble, "No. It's fine. I'm glad you said something."
"Oh, sure," she whispered, "you'reglad, but what's gonna happen when Mister Bennington finds out?"
"Nothing's gonna happen. It's fine."
"If you say so." Carla said, sounding far from convinced. "And I'm sorry to push the issue, but I've gotta know. Is he around? Like, maybe in the shower or something?"
Oh, good grief.
Through gritted teeth, I said, "Did you tryhisroom?"
"Sure, but—" Abruptly, she stopped. "Never mind."
"But what?" I asked.
After a long pause, she said, "But someone named Tiffany answered. She said he'd been gone for hours."
I felt my hand tighten around the phone. "Tiffany? As in the senator's fiancée?"
"I'm not sure. She didn't say." Carla paused. "So is he there?"
It seemed like a ridiculous question. After all, if Zane Bennington were here in my room, I certainly wouldn’t be asking all of these stupid questions. And why? Because I'd be too busy throttling him.
"He's not here," I told her. "And in fact, he's never here."
"Oh." She hesitated. "Because the penthouse is that much nicer?"
"No," I said with all the patience I could muster. "Because I’m not sleeping with him. I don't even like him."
That made her pause. "Really?
"Yes. Really." In the back of my mind, I started listing the reasons.
