Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [106]
“I’m aiming for next week—and then I’ll be able to spend some time with you. Vennie, I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that.”
“Oh, Morgan.” Venetia was suddenly only too aware of the dilemma she was in, and it left her tonguetied. What was she to say?
“Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“It’s just that it’s six in the morning—I was asleep.”
Morgan laughed. “Okay, then—go back to sleep. I’ll call you again later in the week. Take care of yourself, Vennie, and don’t let Fitz work you too hard.”
“I’m sure he won’t do that. Take care of yourself, too, Morgan.”
“Speak to you later, then, baby—love you.”
“Yes … I love you….”
Venetia put down the phone and lay back on her pillows, staring at the ceiling. Oh, my God, what was she to do? Her head was full of Fitz, her body remembered the pressure of his as they danced, her mouth still felt his kiss; she’d been lost in a dream of his lovemaking when Morgan had called. She loved Morgan, she was sure she did—in a certain way. But she was suddenly, completely, and passionately in love with his father. Perhaps tonight, she thought, with a soft smile, perhaps tonight they’d go to some other restaurant to gaze into each other’s eyes in the candlelight, and then they’d dance some more. With a shock she remembered Raymunda. Of course! There could be no more candlelight dinners for two. Fitz was with Raymunda. And she was with Morgan.
Downcast, she wandered into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Standing under its gentle pressure, allowing the spray to soak her hair, she wondered what could be done about Raymunda. It wasn’t up to her, she decided finally; if Fitz wanted to do something about her, then he would. She’d just have to wait and see.
Bob Ronson was a good man, thought Fitz, putting down the phone. You could rely on him to do what you asked—even if it was something a little out of the ordinary. Ronson’s kind of ambition was a good thing only when it was on your side, working for you. Against you, he’d be ruthless and calculating. Ronson would let nothing impede his progress up the ladder of success. And that was exactly the kind of man you needed in a large enterprise—he’d get moved up the ladder, all right, in the McBain Corporation—they could always use a good “hatchet man.” Meanwhile, Ronson had promised to be back within the week with whatever information on the Haven situation he could acquire—there had been plenty of gossip, he’d said, and a few who had cast doubtful glances Reubin and Kaufmann’s way. He’d find out.
Fair enough, thought Fitz. He’d do what he could to straighten out the situation for Venetia and her sisters, and that was all. Last night had been a big mistake. Venetia was lovely, she was very young, and he’d been tempted. But she was Morgan’s girl. He had enough complications with Raymunda, who’d thrown a tantrum last night after her guests had gone, accusing him of being rude to them and of insulting her simply because he’d wished them all good night and gone off to bed. Olympe had been there, watching the interaction between Raymunda and himself with a little smile. He’d had time to notice that she looked very attractive, dressed in red with a mouth that matched, but he’d had Venetia on his mind … Venetia….
It seemed as though today was the day for putting the past out of his mind—he would forget about the episode with Venetia, and he had come to the parting of the ways with Raymunda. She was downstairs packing now. He’d never led her to believe that there was a future for them together—it had been an affair of the moment, one that had been fun in the beginning, before she began making demands.
As if on cue Raymunda stalked into his office.
“I might have known I’d find you here,” she said scornfully. “The ‘rest’ doesn’t apply when it comes to work, I suppose—only to parties and having fun and paying me a little attention.”
“Raymunda,” said Fitz gently, “I was quite content to spend my time here—alone with you. You could have