Vanilla On Top(68)

Oliver pauses to respond to Brian and I raise my hand to show I’ve got this one. “Mr. Logan, it isn’t always about money. Sometimes it’s about doing what’s right.” The Apollo employee’s face flushes dark red as he clamps his mouth shut on whatever venom he was about to spew.

My new boss nods in my direction, a smile of appreciation on his face. I hold my head high as we leave, eager to get the heck out before the man inside starts yelling. As we walk to the elevator, I dig out my phone to text Tony. In my anxiousness to reach him, I don’t pay attention and run into Oliver.

We bump solidly and the phone flies out of my hand to crash onto the marble tiles in front of the elevator. I scramble to retrieve it.

“Heather,” Oliver begins, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “can’t it wait ‘til we get back to our floor?”

Panic seizes me as I turn over the phone to discover the shattered screen. Dammit! Why are these expensive pieces of crap so delicate?

The elevator dings and we file inside, me clutching the broken phone to my chest. The doors close and I press every button on the damn bit of plastic hoping for some kind of response.

Nothing.

What the hell am I going to do? Will Tony even want to see me if I caused this whole debacle?

“Heather?” Oliver asks, his tone softer now after looking at my face. “Has something happened?”

I look into his concerned expression and try not to scream in frustration. “My friend lost his job.” I bite back, sobbing out: And I have no other way of contacting him except through this broken phone. I can’t believe I never recorded Tony’s number anywhere but my cell. Idiot!

“It’ll work out. And hey, if he’s a good fit for Parkerson, have him send us his resumé.”

I muffle a choke deep in my throat. I’m sure we’d hire the corporate raider who almost took down our company. “Thank you for the suggestion, but he’s not in our industry.”

Dear God, did his involvement with me get him removed from the deal and fired? Will he be blackballed and unable to get hired anywhere?

As the elevator makes its slow and ponderous journey downward, I comb through every nuance in Marcus’s behavior at the meeting. I was sure he didn’t rat us out—and I still am. Could someone else have seen us or suspected what we did in Tony’s office last week?

The elevator stops at half a dozen floors on the way down to ours. The tension in me threatens to snap when a group of businessmen climb on, tightly packing the small box. A confusing mix of cologne, body odor, perfume, and cigarettes causes my stomach to clench. I swallow the bile edging up my throat.

The doors finally open on our floor and the Parkerson employees push out. Oliver pats my shoulder saying, “Call your friend from your office.” He smiles, looking assured he’s offered me a solution I couldn’t have thought of on my own.

The CEO moves away, heading down the hall. I race to my desk, desperately trying to remember Tony’s cell number. I scribble down several combinations, none of which are complete and therefore, worthless to try.

The phone on my cluttered desk rings, jarring me out of my useless task. I reach over a cold cup of coffee, feeling jittery, hoping it’s Tony.

“Want to meet for lunch?” Carla asks. Relief floods me at the sound of a sane voice.

“Oh God, I’m so glad you called. I’m totally screwed and trying to figure out what to do.”

“What happened? Didn’t you have that big meeting today?”

“Yes, I did. It went fine, we blocked the buyout—but you’re not going to believe this—Tony wasn’t there. I think he was fired.”

“No way! Why would they fire him over losing one deal?”

I can’t tell her about what we did in his office. That would be enough to get anyone fired. Assuming someone reported us. “I have no idea.” Liar. It’s all your fault.

“Have you talked to him? I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

I stifle the tears tottering to fall. “I can’t reach him. I dropped my cell as we were leaving—damn thing broke. And I don’t have his number written down anywhere!”

“Okay, calm down. I bet there’s one of those little data cards in the back of the phone that records all your info.”

“Oh my God, you’re right. You’re a lifesaver. How do I get to it?” Eager for action, I flip the phone over and pry up the back. “What am I looking for?”

“I think it’s under the battery.”

I leverage out the battery, fumbling due to the desk phone wedged between my shoulder and neck. “I think I got it.” The tiny square of plastic holding all my data slips out of my awkward grasp and falls into the half full mug. “Holy hell! I just fucking dropped it into coffee!”