I am,’ he said, running his eyes over the crowded room, resting on a pair of very fine green eyes.
‘Wonderful. Great. Then let’s get on to housekeeping. Tahlia, where are we at on hooking the contracts for the private schools’ websites? Mr Darrington, this is Tahlia Moran, Director of Sales.’
Tahlia Moran, aka The Beauty, stepped forward, her shoulders thrown back, her chin high, a chilling blankness in her green eyes that pierced his own for a moment.
Case tossed her name around in his head. It suited her…sweet like her voice and her reaction to him, and strong like the way she held herself and that look.
What was with that look?
She swung her focus to Raquel Wilson. ‘We’ve submitted our ideas to the various schools that were looking and are awaiting their respective decisions,’ she said in a cold, lifeless monotone.
His gut tightened.
The woman he’d bumped into downstairs had glowed with such passion that he could imagine clients swarming towards her like bees to spring blossoms.
What was going on in the office to cause such a turnaround in her? Case scanned the room. How many others here were having their enthusiasm sucked out of them? And by what?
He had to find out.
The company’s future success could hinge on him sorting it out—and he knew just where to start. With a tall, dazzling mystery that begged to be explored.
He just wasn’t sure whether he should.
Tahlia stared at her computer screen, willing the words to clear so she could read her mail and get on with the job she still had.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: A crazy crazy world
Missed you at the end of the meeting. I expect you needed some space. Gawd, Tahlia. I’m so sorry.
There must be some reason the Rottie chose that creep over you. Maybe there’s something going on with them—he is rather cute for a creep.
I think the world has gone crazy. First your promotion goes to some total stranger and then Chrystal. I just had the weirdest talk with her about men. No. Not about size. Or quality. Or quantity. She was asking my advice on how to land Mr Right! Freaky, huh? I guess our office nymph has decided, finally, that she wants more than just sex from men.
What do you think Darrington’s T stands for?
Tyrant?
Em
And if you need to talk, or scream or yell or cry, I’m here for you, sweetie.
Tahlia threw herself back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. Yes, the guy was a creep, sauntering into the building, flaunting his good looks, great suit and that sexy mouth and sharing that oh-so-deep voice.
Acting as if he was just anybody when innocent hard-working employees bumped into him was wrong, and totally inappropriate behaviour in the circumstances.
The nerve of the guy to meet her gaze in the meeting, all warm and soft, as though he was naïve and innocent and ignorant to the fact that it was her promotion he’d stolen.
He didn’t need the job. With a suit that expensive it was surprising he was working at all. He probably had a silver spoon stuck well and truly up his—
She slammed a fist on her desk. He probably wasn’t even qualified, had probably figured there was nothing wrong with using his wealth and connections to jump over hard-working employees on his ruthless climb to the top.
She’d hardly heard his acceptance, but had seen him smiling at her, as though his stealing her job wasn’t enough, that he had to rub salt deep into the wounds of her dashed hopes and dreams.
Bastard. After she had been so stupid and babbling and stupid downstairs.
Gawd. He was her boss now. He was probably going to sack her…especially after what she had said about Raquel…unless he had already told Raquel. Then that was it, she was dead—the Rottie would eat her alive!
How could she have messed this up so badly?
How could she have failed?
Everything had been going so well. She’d had everything under control…How could she not have twigged that the Rottie was interviewing other candidates for the promotion she desperately wanted?
Tahlia cringed. How could she have let her mouth run away with her with the one person who should have seen her as absolutely together?
At least she’d reported the update without revealing a shred of the turmoil that raged within her. She was well practised at keeping it all deep inside.
Dammit. Her mother hadn’t let anything get in her way to the top—not her grief, the rumours, motherhood, her limited education, nothing.
She straightened the photo on her desk of her mother in her favourite power suit with her arms crossed and chin up.
It had taken her mother over a year to save up enough for that suit. Tahlia had watched her come home from the supermarket every day, take off her uniform, make dinner and then iron, and study and iron, and go to night school and iron.
Her mother had said her power suit was forged by iron, and was therefore even more charged to give her the boost in business she needed.
Her mother had taught her about goals and strength and determination and, dammit, she wasn’t going to just give in.
She was a professional, like her mother, and she was going to hold her head high and deal with what life threw at her. Hell, she was used to it. Life had thrown a few big ones their way and they’d not only survived, they’d got stronger.
Even the rumours about Tahlia’s dad hadn’t stopped her mother—if anything they had driven her. Her mother’s passion had inspired Tahlia…and Tahlia was not a quitter like her father. She was a winner, a survivor, and totally in control of her own life…and its surprises.
She’d survive this like she had survived everything else in her life to date—she just didn’t know how to tell her mother…
Tahlia picked up a pen and stabbed the notepad in front of her. Damn that man. Damn Raquel. Damn the world.
How could this happen…right when she was going to prove that she’d be okay, that she was somebody too, that she’d made it?
Life wasn’t fair.
Who was that man?
Sammy’s, their local coffee shop, was busy in the afternoons but perfect for the quick after-work drink Tahlia and the girls had before they headed home.
Sammy’s was mandatory to catch up on the weekend goss if they hadn’t got the chance at work. Most days
