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Samantha cocked her head. “Even with your relationship with him?”
What relationship?
I'd only ever been the fake girlfriend. Samantha obviously thought it had gone further.
I stood. “There is no relationship, and after last night there never will be.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t think we’re likely to get the second ten million from him now either.”
Samantha’s eyebrows shot up. She was nice enough not to ask for details. “What do we tell the troops now? You know the grapevine in this place. Everybody knew about the money by the end of the day. Lucy in reception even asked me about it. Maybe we can keep the update on Quigley’s money under wraps until we know for sure?”
I felt faint. I’d let the team down. “I guess… I don't know what to do yet,” I told her. I had no fucking idea. I retreated to my office to figure out what to do next.
After an hour of avoiding it, I dialed Vivienne to tell her what had happened.
“You what?” my sister yelled through the phone after I got to the part where I’d walked out. Her reaction was an order of magnitude worse than I’d expected.
“But don't you see what he was trying to do?” I spat back at her. “He’s usingmycompany,myhard work, myemployees’lives to get ahead in his own game. He won’t let usdo what’s right for Tiffany’s.”
“You may be older than me, Amy, but you sure as shit are not smarter,” Vivienne said angrily.
It was too insulting to it let go by. “And what makes you so smart?”
“I have eyeballs and brains in my head. That guy knows the business of investing. He’s in the business of investing, and you have him wrapped around your little finger, so why don’t you trust what he tells you? He’s trying to help——”
I interrupted her. “I what?”
“I saw how he looked at you when I was over for dinner the other night. That man is head over heels for you, big sister, and if you can't see it, you’re fucking blind. I’m glad you kept Hudson as your last name. I don’t want anybody knowing I’m related to someone so dumb.”
That hurt. “You don’t understand what he did, and you’re being mean.”
“You just explained what he did, and I’m only being mean because you’re not listening. You’re not even thinking. You need a brain transplant if you think he’s trying to screw you over. It’s clear as day the man would do anything for you.”
She didn’t get it. “No, all that was just him pretending to be a gentleman or some fucking thing.”
“So it's you and your compliment hang-up again, is it?” she asked.
“So now this is my fault?”
“Sure as shit is,” she hissed. “He says something nice to you, and you go ballistic and miss how he’s saying that shit with his tongue hanging out he’s so into you. You’re getting good advice——for free——but you’re too hung up on yourself to even consider it.” Vivienne laughed into the phone. “There's only one thing for you to do now.”
“And what's that?” I asked.
“He’s the best thing that ever happened to you, so you get your sorry ass back over there and eat crow, or suck dick, or whatever you have to do to get back to being his girlfriend. Then listen to what he has to say. Otherwise you don't deserve him. And if you’re not smart enough to see it, I'm heading over there to volunteer for the job.”
“You’re welcome to him,” I shot back. “I’m sorry I called.” I hung up.
So much for sisterly love and sound advice.
I took my purse and walked out the front door, turning left toward Starbucks. A short walk often cleared my head and helped me solve a knotty problem. Thirty minutes later, I’d made several laps around the block, downed a grande mocha extra shot, and was no closer to unraveling my troubles.
The text that arrived was short and sweet.
LIAM: You are released from your consulting
Great. Now it was officially over.
Reentering the building, I walked past Sonya, a single mother with two kids, and I knew the family situations of the next three people I saw as well. Every employee I passed added to my guilt. I’d let them all down. We couldn’t take the Winterbourne money, and I’d personally screwed up our chance to get the second half of Liam’s money. It was exactly as bad as I’d thought it was.
Back at my desk, I closed the door and plopped my ass back in my chair. I had no fucking idea what to do.
