“Why would he do that?”
He moved in front of me just as I reached the door, forcing me to stop. “Vanessa. Evidently, she had a discussion with him. Whatever she said worked.” Michael’s eyes were twinkling.
It took me a moment to realize what he’d said. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. Are you sure you don’t want your job back?”
I rubbed my jaw, a smile crossing my face so easily my face hurt. “I’m positive. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve made my choice.”
“Good for you. Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”
“Very funny.”
Vanessa
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but in the three days you’ve been back to work, you’ve done little more than stare at your phone hoping a certain person would call you. Right?” Amelia had her arms folded, one leg crossed over the other as she stood in my doorway.
“I have not.”
“Yes, you have. Why don’t you call him?”
“Because… Because we’re not talking.”
“Because you’re both stubborn.”
“I am not stubborn.”
“Bullshit.”
“Get back to work. We have several new client meetings today.”
She grinned. “That you couldn’t care less about. Admit it.”
“I will not.”
“Uh-huh. You won’t be happy until you’re in his arms, smooching and fondling each other.”
I took a balled-up piece of paper from the trash, tossing it in her direction. Of course she was right. All I’d been doing was pining away for him, unable to sleep and barely eating. I’d hoped he’d call, but it was obvious I’d been right about him all along.
Why did it hurt so much? “Get out of here. Do your job,” I teased. “And close the door behind you.”
“Why, yes, ma’am.”
As soon as she did, I dropped my head into my hands. What was I doing? Why couldn’t I just pick up the phone and call Christian?
Maybe I was stubborn, but he certainly hadn’t made an effort to contact me. The only good news I’d heard in the seventy-two hours of self-imposed torture was that my father had lost the contract with Barchella. The details weren’t known, but I could take some sense in satisfaction that he’d lost his big, bad, ruthless game after all.
The fact he’d left me two rather nasty voicemails had proven what I’d said to Lopez and his wife had hit home.
What had I told them?
I’d admitted we’d entered into a contract for the sole purpose of deceiving them into believing Elliot Enterprises was a family corporation. The words had been scripted, said with perfect intonations as I would teach any of my subcontracted employees. I’d told them about Donovan, the words painful to say, but something they’d needed to hear.
After that, the conversation had taken a different turn when Triana had asked what I really felt about Christian. I’d gone off the rails and ten minutes later, I’d admitted I was madly in love with the man and was certain he felt the same.
I’d provided examples that had been easy to do, dripping from my tongue like warm butter. I’d spouted off his best attributes and the things that drove me batshit crazy. In the end, my eyesight had been foggy from the dream state I’d drifted into.
What a crock of shit.
