Page 2 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
Constance Pennington-Grover and her husband, Toddrick. Constance detested when anyone referred to him as just plain old Todd.
Constance was Harold Pennington’s oldest daughter, and while not an official employee of Pennington Hotels, she was a face I saw on an almost daily basis. Firstly, because of her father, and secondly because her husband, Toddrick, also worked in the marketing department.
Toddrick was the bane of my existence. He was a pale, doughy man with no chin and watery blue eyes. He felt, as the son-in-law of the CEO, that it was his place to tell everyone in the department what to do, even though he had the worst track record of any employee. His ideas were all either completely idiotic, not financially feasible, or a blatant copy of another company’s work. He did nothing but drag the department down, then tried to blame anyone but himself when his projects failed miserably.
I also suspected he had a bit of a coke habit, if his constant sniffing was anything to go by.
Constance, on the other hand, was the quintessential picture of uptown New York elegance. She was tall and slender and she never had a single item of this seasons most sought after clothing out of place; no clearance racks for Constance Pennington-Grover. Her brown hair, so dark it almost looked black, was cut into a severe bob so that it angled perfectly with her sharp cheekbones. Her nose was slender, but not naturally so, and the same plastic surgeon who had reduced it had also given her a pair of obviously fake breasts that would defy gravity until the end of time. She was thirty-two but continued to tell people she was twenty-nine.
And she was an absolute bitch.
Walking over to the woman at the desk, Constance leaned down and delivered air kisses to both her cheeks. “Lovely to see you, darling,” she simpered, sounding about as genuine as a used car salesman. “We should get lunch later this week.” The woman smiled thinly, then turned her attention to me, causing Constance to turn my way as well.
Her gaze found me almost immediately, her eyes narrowing when she saw me sitting there, bouncing my foot. There was a second where I thought she was going to say something, as her eyes took on an evil glint, but before she could open her mouth, Harold Pennington himself appeared, opening the boardroom door with a flourish. Constance immediately dropped the calculating look on her face and replaced it with a fake smile.
Toddrick never even looked up from his phone. He trailed after Constance as she moved quickly to intercept her father before he could address me.
“Hello, father,” she said, all sugar-sweet and giggly, like she was still eight years old. Gag me.
“Connie, I didn’t expect to see you here. I have a meeting-”
She didn’t let him finish. “I know, father, but I thought it would be best to come now, with Toddrick, and just get the whole thing over with, don’t you agree?” She attempted to pout, but her over filled lips barely moved.
“Well, Connie, I don’t really think it’s appropriate to-” he looked at me, worry lining his already wrinkled face.
Harold Pennington was an old man. At seventy-four years old, he was still overseeing all the aspects pertaining to being CEO of the company he inherited from his own father. The word around the water cooler was that he was hoping to pass the Pennington Hotels to one of his children. But while Constance excelled at being a manipulative trophy wife, she had yet to convince her father that Toddrick would be a suitable replacement. Her younger sister, Daphne, was only twenty-one, and still in school out in Nevada. She was a bit of a wild child, or so I’d heard, and it was unlikely that she would choose to take on such a huge responsibility any time soon.
There were rumors that Harold had fathered a son before he married Constance’s mother, but no one had ever laid eyes on him, so it was all just speculation.
“Oh, father, don’t you think it’s best if she finds out now? You know, like taking off a band-aid.” That malicious glint was back in Constance’s eye as she turned her head to level me with a glare. Her eyebrows would have furrowed if they hadn’t been so full of Botox.
Wait. What was she saying? The conniving look on her face brought me up short. She couldn’t be talking about me, cold she? What could Constance possibly have to do with my meeting for VP?
But as my gaze moved past her to the fleshy lump in a wrinkled suit she was married to, I knew exactly what made her so supremely happy.
Toddrick was going to be taking my promotion away from me.
I could feel the sweat beading on my back, starting to make my silk blouse stick to my shoulder blades. This could not be happening. I had worked too damn hard to lose this opportunity to a trust fund baby whose only goal was to unite his nostrils. I refused to go out like this.
But as Harold stood there, glancing uneasily between his daughter and me, I knew there was no hope for me. Toddrick was in, and I was out.
“Miss Lund, please, won’t you come in?” Harold gestured to the door he had just come through, and I started toward the conference room. Just before I reached the door, Constance stepped forward and cut me off, determined to enter the room before me, juvenile thing that she was. As Harold followed us into the room, he placed himself at the head of the long table, Constance taking the seat to his right, gritting her teeth at her husband as he plodded in last. She pointed to the seat on Harold’s left, which Toddrick eventually slouched himself into, still more interested in his phone than the nuclear bomb he and his wife had just dropped on my life plan.
With the three seats at that end going to Harold and his minions, I was left with no choice but to find myself a seat farther along the table. I chose to sit on the same side as Constance, but three chairs away so that I wouldn’t be forced to look at her face and see her reveling in my misery.
“Now then,” Harold began, still looking uncomfortable. “Miss Lund, as you know, a position has recently opened up for Vice President of Marketing for Pennington Hotels. This position would oversee all departments for all regions in our North American branch of the company. Your track record has been stellar in the short time you have worked for us. I must say, the board and I are all very impressed with your work.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pennington,” I said, trying to keep my heart under control. No matter how high his praise, I wouldn’t allow myself to get my hopes up, not with the Wicked Witch of Central Park West sitting here, sniffing the waters for my blood like a shark. “I take great pride in working for Pennington Hotels.” Such few words to convey the depth of what this company actually meant to me, but I choked on any words I may have used to elaborate.
“And we appreciate that,” Harold said with a smile that reminded me of my grandfather, warm and friendly. It was cut short, however, when Constance not-so-discreetly cleared her throat. Harold glanced at her, then at Toddrick, releasing a deep sigh before continuing. “However, at this time you are not the only candidate vying for the Vice President position.” Harold leveled a pointed glance at Toddrick, who was still ignoring the entire conversation in favor of whatever he was doing on his phone. “It is very important that we make the right choice.” He swung his gaze to Constance, but she simply scoffed at him. “The company can’t afford to gamble on…” he said, trailing off to look at the wall over my head. I was worried he was having a senior moment, drifting off into his own world, but then his eyes snapped back to mine. “Yes, exactly.”
Constance glanced at me, then at the wall behind us, trying to see what her father was looking at. Toddrick sniffed, not looking at anything.
“What, exactly, father?” she asked, losing a bit of her own calm, as if she sensed that things may not completely go her way for once.
“Gamble. Casinos. That’s what we’ll do.” He clapped his hands, suddenly very excited. I bit my tongue, waiting to see what had made him so very happy about the situation that would literally ruin my life. “Miss Lund, how do you feel about a little friendly competition?”
“Um,” I said, caught off guard when he addressed me so suddenly. “I, uh, welcome the challenge.” I didn’t quite make it sound like a question, but it was close.
