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She presses herself into her chair, her arms wrapped around her front, her head tipped so I can’t see her face. For the first time since she walked into my office, I am in control. I count to thirty in my head, expecting her to state her case, to give me a reason why I shouldn’t charge her with whatever the fuck Legal tells me I can. Maybe I’ll even see some tears.
But true to form, she doesn’t say a word.
“Ms. Beach, what did you think would happen when I found out about you sneaking into the Power Broker Program?”
“Honestly? I gambled that you probably wouldn’t even remember me.” She looks up. “I figured that since you have forty people onstage with you every week and that you’ve delivered at least a dozen more seminars since Vancouver, that your interaction with me would be like, I don’t know, buying a coffee from a random barista, just one of the people who exist in the background.”
“But you’re in my premium coaching program. You didn’t think I’d notice that?”
She shakes her head. “From all I read about the program, and what I learned in my first conversation with Mr. Liu, you don’t do any direct work with the entrepreneurs enrolled. So yes, I guess I expected to get away with it.”
“Did you consider what might happen in the off-chance I did remember you? If we found ourselves in the situation we’re in now?”
“I figured you’d kick me out. I didn’t think the company would want the publicity of having me sent to jail, but that you’d sue me and I’d have to give you all the money in my bank account—which is nothing, since I’m in debt. And that I’d have to declare bankruptcy, which, quite honestly, would make zero difference in my life since, before I met Mr. Liu, I was never going to be able to afford to buy a place, anyway, so my credit rating is irrelevant.”
She looks at me with defiance in her eyes. “I live with my sister. The lease is in her name. Basically, sir, there’s not much you can do to make my life any less financially stable, so it seemed stupid not to follow your advice, grab the opportunities life drops in my path, and say thank you.” She pushes herself to standing and extends a hand. “So, thank you.”
Huh. Not at all what I expected. No teary eyes. No plea for leniency. Not even an apology. This woman is unbelievable.
“Sit.” I command.
Unbelievable, but compliant. As well as confident and creative. I could work with that. And for god knows what reason, I want to.
“Back up a little here for me. You said my suit jacket had a hidden pocket.”
She nods.
“For Christ’s sake, Ms. Beach, if you don’t want to be escorted from the building, give up the whole ‘don’t speak unless asked a question’ bullshit, all right? It’s a guideline, not a goddamn edict carved in stone.”
She pats her left rib. “Inside the inner breast pocket is a smaller one, just large enough for a business card. I assumed you had it tailored specifically for your golden card.”
“Gold. Not golden.” I sigh.
“If you let me use your bathroom, I can show you. This dress is reversible, and my sister kept the suit jacket’s inside pocket, so it’s an outside pocket on this dress, if I wear it with the lining side out.”
I point to a door behind her, beside the wet bar. “I’d like to see that.”
After she closes the bathroom door, I slide my hand into the inside pocket of the jacket I’m wearing. Since all my suits are made by the same tailor, it should have the same hidden pocket. And by god, it does.
The door clicks open, and there she stands in what appears to be a more fitted version of the same damned dress she wore to the seminar. The one I’d mocked. The dress I’ve dreamed about taking off her body for the last two months.
10. Virginia
PRETTY PLUMBAGO
As soon as he sees me, Mr. Power closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. It appears that the very sight of my dress has given him an instantaneous headache.
“Should I turn it back to its business side?”
He nods, still not looking at me, and says, “No. It’s fine.” He opens his eyes and tracks me as I walk back to his desk. “It suits you. It’s better than the black side.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, since you said it was ridiculous. Does that mean you think I’m as ridiculous as the pattern on the dress?”
“No. It means I owe you an apology for how I treated you at the seminar. In fact, I’ve thought of you several times and the terrible way I tried to humiliate you. To be honest, I half expected you to file a complaint or at the very least, ask for your money back.”
“People do that?”
“It happens,” he says.
