Page 27 of The Unforgiven
“If it were up to Emma, we’d all be dressed like the characters from Cinderella.”
“Actually, you and Quinn probably resemble Aladdin and Princess Jasmine more, but I promise you, there’ll be no magic carpets or mischievous monkeys. You just leave it to me and my granddaughter.”
“Suddenly, I’m very worried,” Gabe had joked.
“Worry about your bride; I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Thank you, Mum. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know for certain.”
“Then I won’t tell your father until then. I’d hate to tell him Emma is coming and then have to disappoint him.”
“Good night, Mum.”
“Good night, son.”
Gabe had hung up, feeling infinitely better. He was going to New Orleans, and that was the end of it.
FIFTEEN
Gabe bent down to retrieve his briefcase from beneath his desk and stood up to find Monica Fielding leaning against the door jamb of his office, studying him with her head to one side as if he were a particularly interesting specimen. She was holding a steaming cup of tea and seemed eager for a chat.
“I hear we are losing you,” Monica said, advancing into the office without being invited.
“Only for a short while.” Gabe patted his pockets in search of his mobile and keys. He hoped Monica would take the hint and leave, but she inched deeper into the room, heading for the chair facing Gabe’s desk.
“You are right to go, of course,” Monica continued as she perched on the edge of the chair and took a dainty sip of her tea. “Eight years is not something you can just erase, is it? I’d be worried too.”
Monica rearranged her face into an expression of false sympathy as she waited for him to respond, but Gabe saw the eagerness in her eyes. He felt as if he’d missed some integral part of the conversation.
“Sorry, I don’t follow,” he said, his keys momentarily forgotten.
“Didn’t your bride run off to the States?” Monica asked, all innocence.
“Quinn went to New Orleans on some personal business. What are you getting at, Monica?” Gabe had never really had an issue with Monica before, but her treatment of Quinn had forced him to reconsider his attitude toward her. She really was a shrew, but he was stuck with her, since she was a long-standing member of his staff and he had no problems with her performance. It was her personality that could use some improvement.
“Oh, it’s personal business all right.” Monica took another sip of tea, her eyes fixed on Gabe over the rim of her mug.
Gabe placed his hands on the desk, leaning toward Monica in a way he hoped was intimidating. “Spit it out, Fielding,” he said, his voice low and commanding. He was tired of this game, especially since Monica seemed to be enjoying it so thoroughly.
She exhaled dramatically and leaned back. “I guess you haven’t heard the gossip.”
“I make it a point not to listen to gossip,” Gabe countered, but in this instance he was willing to make an exception, since it clearly had something to do with his personal life.
“Luke and his lady love are no longer. Seems that American tartlet left him for a footballer or some such. I never thought they would last, and I told him so,” Monica went on. “He is too mature for her, too intelligent. She was nothing more than a passing fancy. Young, beautiful, uninhibited. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that?” She smiled guilelessly at Gabe. “She turned his head, but it was Quinn he always loved. He just seemed to forget it for a little while.”
“Quinn’s moved on,” Gabe replied.
“But Luke hasn’t. I spoke to him yesterday, and he was very interested to learn that Quinn is in the States. He realizes what a fool he’s been, and I think he means to win her back.” Monica couldn’t keep the grin off her face. This was the kind of thing she lived for.
“Don’t you need to get home?”
“Mark’s away on a business trip, so I’m not in a rush.”
“Really?” Gabe asked, matching her innocent tone. “I could have sworn I saw him by the Wesley Euston Hotel last night. With a woman. A colleague, no doubt.”
Monica paled and sprang to her feet. “Mark’s in Liverpool. He left two days ago.”
“My mistake then,” Gabe replied smoothly and reached for his coat. “Good night, Monica. Have a pleasant evening.”
