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“I really can’t talk about it, Noah. I can’t betray his trust.”
“Are you sure your opinion of the writing hasn’t been swayed by his disability?”
“I loved the writing before I knew about his circumstances, which don’t affect his talent. He’d be talented in any form. In spite of all the difficulty working with him imposes, I’m enjoying the work. It’s going to be good for me. I’m getting to flex some editorial muscle. Over the last few years, I’ve become fat and lazy.”
“A little lazy, maybe, but not fat.”
He slid his hands over her butt, a caress he knew she liked and that usually evoked an agreeable response. This time it was less effective. “I was speaking metaphorically, Noah.”
“I realize that. Still…” He bent his head and kissed her, first on the cheek, then her mouth. He wanted to be assured that her outburst wasn’t an indicator of something more serious, specifically that she doubted his loyalty to Matherly Press.
She returned the kiss. Not with the fervor he sought, perhaps, but when he pulled back she smiled up at him, assuaging his concern.
“If these financials didn’t need my attention,” he growled, “I’d be tempted to lock the door and take you right here.”
“Why don’t you say ‘damn the financials’ and do just that? I could be taken.”
He kissed her again, then purposefully set her away from him. “Sorely tempting, darling. But duties call.”
“I understand.”
“Tonight? After dinner with Daniel?”
“You have a date.” She kissed him quickly, then retrieved her raincoat and handbag. “I may stay late and try to clear my desk, so I probably won’t change before dinner.”
“Then we’ll leave straight from here and ride over together. I’ll have a car waiting downstairs at six-forty-five.”
“See you then.”
He blew her a kiss as she went out, then returned to his desk, confident that he had dodged a bullet. As always, Maris had been pacified with a little attention and affection. But her upset over the WorldView meeting was no small matter.
When he considered how close he’d come to being caught today, he wished to watch Morris Blume slowly and agonizingly bleed to death. Telling Maris about that meeting had obviously been Blume’s way of reminding him that the deadline was fast approaching. Blume had seized an unplanned opportunity to make a power play, to remind him that WorldView was ultimately in charge of this transaction.
It had been a close call. It had cost him some valuable time. In the long run, however, the incident had caused no permanent damage. Thank God he’d had the foresight to inform Daniel of that meeting with just this contingency in mind. In the event that he or Maris had gotten wind of it—and the industry grapevine was notorious—he had taken the old man into his confidence, thereby throwing him off track.
The Matherlys weren’t fools. But they were nowhere close to being as clever as he. He left absolutely nothing to chance. He planned meticulously. His schemes were long-range and therefore took a steely patience and perseverance that lesser individuals lacked.
He relied on his instincts and his intelligence, but also on the best possible resource, the one that was virtually unfailing and always in full supply—human nature. Mind control was easy if you knew a person’s likes, dislikes, secrets, weaknesses, fears.
He possessed a gift for getting people to go right where he wanted them to go and to do exactly what he wanted them to do. He was talented that way. He had an uncanny knack for manipulating people, for persuading them to make a decision they mistakenly thought was their own and to act on it. He had done it before. Most recently with Howard Bancroft. But he had honed this particular skill long before he had ever heard of Howard Bancroft.
His desk phone rang. Before he could even speak, Cindy apologized for the interruption. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reed, but Ms. Schuller has called five times and insists on being put through.”
“Fine.” Noah depressed the blinking button. “Hello, Nadia,” he said breezily. “I understand you had quite an exciting lunch.”
“Envy” Ch. 12
Key West, Florida, 1986
Todd Grayson’s first impression of Key West was a crushing disappointment.
Making the move had been nearly all he’d talked about for months. He’d thought of little else and had practically exed off the days of his calendar like a child counting down toward Christmas. He’d resented anything that interfered with his daydreaming and planning, including his final semester’s studies. His heart, mind, and soul had been focused singly on getting to his Floridian mecca.
But now, having arrived, having fulfilled a long-held dream, his first sight of it left him less than spiritually enraptured.
He likened the place to an old whore. It looked used, seedy, a little unhealthy, and a lot tired. Continuing the metaphor in his mind as though he were writing it down, Key West appeared to be more a common streetwalker who advertised her wares on a corner, rather than an exotic courtesan who enticed with whispered promises. Once the tacky and rather pathetic attempts at glamour were stripped away, the town had little to offer and nothing to recommend her. She was cheap and common, and the only promise at which she hinted was one of dissipation.
