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 they’d go the entire day and not get to talk, depending on their work commitments, like the rest of today.
Although Tahlia had to admit she hadn’t been so much working as hiding in her office, smothering her thoughts with work rather than trying to make sense of this disastrous turn of events.
She pushed open the coffee shop door, glancing at her watch. She was late. Maybe late enough for the girls to be totally focused on the wedding or the baby shower and to have forgotten entirely about her lack of promotion.
She didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to forget it had happened, try to recapture that naïve innocence and faith she’d had this morning that it was imminent, not an ‘if’ but a ‘when’ and she was the success she wanted to be.
Tahlia weaved through the tables. She definitely didn’t want to talk about it until she knew what in heavens she was going to do about it.
Keely and Emma were leaning over their usual table, looking up at the same time, as though they’d picked her up on some radar.
‘I’m so sorry, honey,’ Emma said, gathering up the photos of wedding cakes and a couple of dozen letters that were probably more of the RSVPs she’d been checking off her guest list for the last week. ‘About the promotion.’
Tahlia slid into the seat at the booth, gesturing for Andy, their usual waiter. ‘It’s nothing. A slight hiccup. I’ll be fine.’ She wished she could feel as fine as she hoped she sounded.
‘Darrington is one hell of a hiccup.’
Tahlia shook her head, swallowing hard. ‘So your baby shower is next week—’ And then she’d be abandoning work for putting her feet up and focusing on her future, her baby, her husband and her new house.
‘And you’re avoiding the subject. What are you going to do about the new suit in the office?’ Keely asked, tipping her head.
‘Nothing,’ Tahlia said as casually as she could, shrugging. ‘I’m going to ignore him.’
Emma tapped her pile of stuff into symmetry. ‘That may be a bit difficult seeing as he’s your boss.’
‘And he’s cute as,’ Keely added.
‘I’m a professional.’ And there was no way she wanted to see the guy again after their mortifying first meeting, let alone the fact he’d destroyed her dream.
Keely leant forward in her seat, her hand resting on her bulge. ‘So you’re telling us that you haven’t noticed how nice-looking he is?’
She shook her head vigorously. ‘No.’ She wished she’d known who the guy was from the start so she hadn’t allowed her body to buzz around in flights of fancy. ‘I don’t find that sort of clean-cut chiselled features, tailored-suit sort of guy attractive at all.’ Now.
Today was just another good reason to avoid men altogether—they were trouble. They took what you wanted and ruined your life.
Emma drained her cup. ‘So what now?’
‘I get on with my job,’ Tahlia said coolly, raising her eyebrows and giving a soft shrug. What else could she do?
‘If we still have one,’ Keely offered, flicking cookie crumbs from the table in front of her. ‘Rumour has it that the owners are selling up WWW.’
‘That
