Page 43 of In His Cuffs

Gloria’s neon-green painted fingernails were in stark relief against her white drink.

“It’s a tropical smoothie,” Gloria explained without prompting. “Coconut water, pineapple juice, orange juice, with whey protein and an energy booster.”

“Is that whipped cream on the top?”

“Non-dairy.”

“Uh-huh,” Maggie said.

“That’s what I told the girl I wanted. Anyway, when the tyrant can be bothered to drag his carcass in for the day, I wanted to have a talk about the Tyler account.”

“Isn’t the meeting scheduled for ten o’clock?”

“No sense waiting.”

“Which means you stayed up all night so you’re already exhausted and want to go home?”

“Creative genius knows no bounds.”

“Of course not.” Maggie wondered how any left-brain activities had been done in the last few years. Had Gloria always been this eccentric? Or had David allowed her full artistic personality to blossom? Some might label her a nut, but she was turning out the best work Maggie had ever seen.

Their musings were interrupted when David walked through the door.

“Ladies.”

Barb rolled her chair forwards and pretended to be working on the computer.

“There you are,” Gloria said.

Did he have to look so freaking delicious? He wore a charcoal-grey suit with a crisp white shirt, accented by a conservative blue tie. No one looking at him right now would suspect he could swing his belt with such precision that he left almost no bruises behind. As she looked at him, she couldn’t help but imagine him unknotting the tie and stuffing the silk in her mouth to muffle her screams. Until him, she hadn’t fantasised about gags. But now that David had introduced her to one that he wore, she couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Do I have something on me?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

She met his gaze. The blue he wore made the colour of his eyes more startling than usual. Maggie felt heat creep up her neck to settle on her face. “I slept all the way through.”

“Good to hear.”

“If it’s okay with you, can we cut the chit-chat and start the meeting early?” Gloria said.

“Am I allowed a cup of coffee first?”

Gloria made a dismissing signal with her free hand, jangling her requisite bracelets together.

“Twenty minutes?” David suggested. “As long as the conference room isn’t booked?”

“It’s free,” Barb said after checking a calendar.

“Does that suit you, Maggie?”

“Me?” God, she wished that hadn’t come out as a squeak rather than the cool question she had intended.

“You’ve got the final draft for approval, don’t you, Gloria?”

She kept them waiting while she took a drink of her tropical, non-dairy whipped cream beverage. “I do.”

“Good, then, Maggie, I do want you in the meeting.” Briefcase in hand, he moved towards the break room.

“He’s a hot man. I wonder if he works out. He has to, right?” Barb mused.

“He’s a tyrant,” Gloria said.

“I heard that,” he said as he moved past them.

Humiliation crawled through Maggie, and she felt torn between loyalty to her boss and to her mother. “Keep it down next time,” Maggie said. “Or better yet, strike it from your vocabulary.”

“Whose side are you on—?”

“You are the artistic talent, Mother,” Maggie said. “And he’s giving you freedom to explore that.”

“By having him look over my shoulder at every turn? Submitting my work for his approval? Checking up on me to be sure I got everything turned into his bookkeeper the moment I finish each step? It’s suffocating.” She broke the word into four distinct syllables.

“Then why are you producing more than you ever have before?” Maggie went in search of her own caffeine jolt.

When she returned to the reception area, Gloria was gone, but her waft of perfume was not. Barb grabbed an incoming phone call and avoided Maggie’s gaze.

Maggie considered searching out David. But if this incident had happened before they’d slept together, she wouldn’t have. If they were indeed keeping business and sex separate, she couldn’t seek him out. Besides, she had a pile of her own work to do, including finalising plans for the open house. A save-the-date email blast had gone out a while ago. Formal invitations were already in the mail. RSVPs had started to trickle in, and she and her mother would follow up with phone calls today.

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