Page 51 of The Frog Prince
I gulp air. I can’t believe she’s going to go. “The Tonga Room.”
And Tessa just laughs some more. “See you there.”
I leave Tessa’s office, and her laugh follows me down the corridor, all the way to my cubicle, where Olivia is sitting in my chair, filing her nails.
“Hey,” I say, my face twitching from happy smile to horrified, petrified smile.
“Hhhheeeeey.” Olivia mocks my greeting before blowing dust from the tip of one perfect nail. “So how are things, girl? Having a good day?”
I’m suddenly glad Mom’s gone. I would not want Mom here for this. I’m going to get my butt kicked, and I’m going to feel pretty bad pretty quick.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my smile. Olivia’s also smiling, but her eyes are hard and she’s pissed. I’ve seen her pissed before—not nice—but never at me until now.
Chilly smile. “How are my Oracle numbers coming along?”
“Pretty good.”
“Can I see what you’ve got so far?”
I’m panicking, scrambling, thinking I’ve done it now, backed myself into a corner with a big fat lie. “I did have until five, didn’t I?”
Her expression hardens. She studies me for an uncomfortably long time. “What were you talking to Tessa about?”
So that’s what has set Olivia off. Not the fact that I don’t have the Oracle info together. Not the media phone numbers on the inside of my file folder. Not my disappearance at eleven when I went to meet Brian Fadden. It strikes me that there’s a lot I could get in trouble for—and it all has to do with me helping out on the Leather & Lace Ball. “My mom’s in town. I invited Tessa to join us for dinner tonight.”
“Tessa.”
“I’m inviting everyone.”
“Why?”
“My mom wanted to meet my… office colleagues.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why she’d want to have dinner with the people you work with. And why you’d think it was appropriate to ask City Events staff to join you for dinner.” Her hands with the long slim fingers flutter. “Holly, you’re not in college. This isn’t a sorority. This is business. Act like a professional.”
I feel my jaw harden. I’m getting angry, and I don’t want to get angry, not with Olivia, and not now, because I can’t hide my temper well and I’m not in a good position for an argument. I’m overwhelmed by my workload. I’ve made Olivia wait for information. I haven’t acted properly obeisant. “I was simply being nice.”
Olivia slowly rises from my chair. She’s the most graceful woman I’ve ever met. Everything she does is beautiful, and as she turns to look at me, I’m reminded of a big cat before it pounces. “‘Nice’ is irrelevant. Success is important. And if you’re not successful here, you won’t be at City Events long.”
She walks away, all long-legged, loose-hipped, the walk of a model on the European runway. For the first time, I think I could hate her. But I don’t want to hate her. Olivia’s brilliant. She’s definitely got “it,” and people respond. They can’t help responding. Even I do.
I turn around, reach for the chair that Olivia has just vacated, and spot Sara standing not far from my cubicle. Her eyes are wide, and I wonder how long she’s been there and how much she’s heard. Plenty, I think.
I give Sara a long, unsmiling look.
“You’re going to dinner with Tessa?” she asks, breaking the awkward silence.
Sara’s blonde, a delicate Ivy League-type blonde, who favors black, gray, and navy cashmere. Everything she wears on her top half is cashmere. It’s a nice look for her. But I’d never, ever buy two dozen of the same sweater. “It’s an open invitation,” I say. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“Josh is going?”
“Yes. We’re meeting at the Tonga Room at six.”
Sara casts a furtive glance around. “Is Olivia going?”