Page 74 of Savage Suit
I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. My heart sank and hurt or did something fucked up that left me with an ache, but I couldn’t allow her comments to go unanswered. “Listen, lady. I don’t know what kind of Machiavellian brain you’re rocking, but I don’t have the time or the money to engage in such a scheme that would have me as a double agent. Ingrid’s spy and Noah’s project manager.”
“You obviously don’t hold Noah…Mr. Keegan in the highest esteem. There must be an underlying motivation for you to return.”
“The prospect of hunger and homelessness,” I snapped.
She ignored me. “Why’d you come back for another interview?”
“I need to survive. To do that, I need the money. Another promising job opportunity fell through, so if I wanted to stay in advertising, KMG was my only possibility.”
“Bollocks!” she hissed. “KMG might be your best option, not your only one.”
“Wrong words. My mistake,” I sneered. “Whatever the case, I would’ve been in a horrible predicament, so I chose to accept this position.”
“Where you think a raging sexist is at the helm.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth,” I said evenly. They might’ve been correct, but I hadn’t said them toher.
Besides, my attraction to Noah made me more permissive with him. Hypocritical bullshit, but true. After what happened in my office, I wondered if the circulated story had a deeper origin. His mother, for instance. I needed to dig into his background.
Megan slid her chair back and rose to her feet, looming over me like a modern Milady De Winter. She glanced at her watch. “It’s a little after twelve. Let’s go to my office. I need to call Celine with your dress size. While we wait for everyone, we will rehearse what I expect you to say at the press conference.”
I stood. “My outfit is fine, thank you.”
“Your skirt is patterned and your blouse is black. An elderly matron wouldn’t wear their hair in such a style. Your shoes are two-toned. What little makeup I see gives you a washed-out appearance and doesn’t hide the bags and circles around your eyes or your dry lips. And your sad, little earrings are unbefitting your position. You look like a cleric from a department store business office.”
It took effort to hide how much her words devastated me. “If you truly thought I was out to destroy Noah’s company, your behavior wouldn’t change my mind,” I snapped. “It would strengthen my resolve to bring it down.”
She glared at me.
Wanting to cuss her the fuck out, I lifted my chin and returned her putrid look.
In the few scant hours since reporting on my first day, a plethora of shit was exposed. About myself, Noah, and the atmosphere. Megan, a woman like me, had no reason for her hostility. Neither did Mrs. Mikes. My attraction to Noah had no root cause, as I’d convinced myself. It happened the moment I met himjust because. And my self-esteem, aided by the pride I took in fashion, wasn’t as cemented as I’d believed. Otherwise, Megan Buford’s brutal analysis of my appearance wouldn’t have crushed me and undermined my confidence.
Chapter Seventeen
Today, my sister starts a new job, and I’m so happy for her and proud of her. I may write back to tell you how it went. In time, I hope to forget my deception. I’ve decided to not ever tell her. I just can’t risk losing her. But I need your advice on another matter. The man I attended the ball with turned out to be a cheating liar. I can’t forget him. He calls from time to time but I refuse to answer, though I would like to work things out. In his last voicemail, he apologized to me and said we should meet for a drink. Should I?
-A Still Concerned Sister with a Broken Heart.
Sis,
I’m going to invoice you for therapy fees. You’ve surpassed your quota of free guidance from my column. Seriously, though, without specifics, I cannot give you sound advice. Cheating is a big red flag. It is better to have a broken heart now than a shattered soul later. If you need closure, meet with him once, cut your losses and move on.
I threw open the doors to the Louis J. Lefkowitz State Office Building housing the New York City Marriage Bureau. Storming down the hall to find my brother, I fought my fury.
It was just after noon, and my horror at Ryan’s teary gray eyes, the sheer terror she’d taken ill, had almost ruined my day. Realizing she was fine had eased me and the continuation of the tour had lightened my mood again.
Then…
Then…Nathaniel thought it reasonable to have a courthouse wedding on a random Monday morning. And to sweeten the fucking pot, he interrupted my tour with Ryan to ask me to witness his marriage to his pregnant girlfriend when he didn’t know if the baby was a Keegan.
His shenanigans had pulled me away from Ryan when I’d wanted to be there to help prep her for this evening, especially since I’d given the go-ahead for Ingrid Warrington’s attendance.
I never wanted to see tears in Ryan’s eyes again, ever, in life, especially if I caused them. It was a principle I practiced toward women. But Ryan’s crying affected me differently.
Walking into my office, she had been a vision. Half her hair was tied and swept from her face. Her unbound waist-length curls made me long to tangle my fingers through the mass.
Somewhere, she’d broken a fucking crime the way her form-fitting patterned skirt and silky top clung to her curves. for her to look the way she did. It had taken all my strength to stay focused with her feet away from me. Despite my best efforts, though, thoughts of fucking her had infiltrated my mind with every glance in her direction and every whiff of her coconut scent.
