Getting Even (10 page)

“Yes, but you asked my opinion, and that's it. I can't say I think very highly of her. It just shows the board was right to promote you, not her.” Seeing Orianna's anxious expression, he stopped to consider. “Having said that, there's probably not much point in you getting pissed off with her—I guess it's not your style, and it'll only bring you down to her level. You know what would be very cool, if you want to win her over?”

“No.”

“Play
her
a little, for once.”

“Such as?”

“Be nice to her.”

“You think?” Dan was usually good at diplomacy, he was probably right.

“It might not be what you feel like doing, but I've always found a little buttering up of you sensitive creative types”—he winked—“does a world of good.”

“True…” Orianna turned to Chloë. She'd just met her, but already valued her opinion. Not only was Chloë a woman, so would understand the nuances of female friendship, but her position as editor of
All Woman
mirrored the role Orianna was about to step into—she was keen to hear her take. “Chloë?”

“My honest opinion?” Chloë frowned; evidently she'd been giving the matter serious thought. “If she threw her drink at you, partner, friend, whatever, it's simple. You'll never be able to work together effectively now. And you're her boss, or soon will be, so have the power to implement changes. I think, once your old CD has gone and you've gotten your feet under the table, you should make life difficult for her, ease her out, so she ends up wanting to leave. And if she won't go of her own accord, then, given her misconduct, fire her. Make her redundant or something. She's trouble, so I'd get rid of her, pronto.”

 

10. The net that shall enmesh them all

“I can't fire her though, can I?” said Orianna. “She hasn't committed a sackable offense, and it's not easy to get rid of people.”

She and Dan were at the Leicester Square subway station, waiting for the train. The platform was hot, humid, and heaving. Film credits had rolled, theater curtains fallen, pubs rung the closing bell—everyone was keen to get home.

“I guess. Ivy has been at Green a long time.”

“I see why you're pissed off on my behalf”—she kissed him—“but it's complicated. We go back years. I was even her maid of honor, for goodness' sake.”

“I'd forgotten that.”

“I know she was a cow earlier, but most people don't understand Ivy.” Orianna sighed. “She's not had it easy, you know.”

“I'm sure she hasn't.”

“I'm not exaggerating; she had a difficult childhood.”

“Didn't we all?”

“Not like Ivy. Her father walked out when she was ten.”

“Really?”

“She doesn't talk about it much, but it always sounded horrid. You mustn't ever tell her I told you this, but he ran off with his wife's best friend, set up house with her and her kids around the corner. His new wife made things tricky, so he virtually dropped his first family altogether. Cruel, if you ask me.”

Dan nodded. “That explains a lot.”

“It gets worse. When Ivy was a teenager, some other man dumped her mother and her mum fell apart completely, had a kind of breakdown, and Ivy was left to look after her younger brother almost single-handedly. She hardly sees her dad now—the last time was at her wedding, when they were useless, the lot of them. Her stepmother refused to come, her father left after the ceremony—he didn't stay for the meal, let alone speeches, and he should have given one! And her mother was a quivering wreck, sniveling through the whole thing. Dreadful behavior—they were all so bloody wrapped up in themselves.”

“When it was supposed to be Ivy's day.”

“Exactly.”

A train drew into the station. Orianna and Dan made their way to the center of the crowded car. They had to stand, but at least could continue talking.

“Must have been odd, being maid of honor through all that.”

“Oh, it was OK. Though Ivy did say she liked my speech especially.”

“You gave a speech?”

“An informal one, spontaneously, as her dad had disappeared, I thought it would be nice.” She smiled at the recollection. “I remember Ivy saying it showed I knew her better than Ed.”

“Her husband?”

Orianna bit her lip. All this only made her feel guiltier. “So I can't simply get rid of her. I'd never live with myself. It's hardly how I want to start out as a boss—firing my best friend.”

“No.” Dan contemplated, brow furrowed. “Perhaps if you gave Ivy a chance to get used to the idea it might blow over.”

“I hope so…”

The train arrived at Caledonian Road. They headed up in the elevator, through the barriers, and out of the station. Walking the final stretch, Orianna said, “It was interesting, though, wasn't it, Chloë's perspective?”

Dan took her hand. “Mm.”

“And she probably knows what she's talking about. After all, she's done pretty well for herself, hasn't she? I mean, she doesn't even look that old—she can't be as old as me—and she's been the editor of two magazines already.”

“She seems quite a go-getter.”

“Do you reckon she's doing better than I am?”

“You can't compare yourselves. You don't work in magazines.”

“We're both in the media.”

“I don't think journalism pays as well as advertising though.” Dan seemed keen to look on the bright side. “And now you'll be earning even more.”

“I guess so.”

Orianna walked in silence, brooding. They'd had a pleasant evening, but the banter was only a temporary distraction. Beneath the surface she remained in turmoil about Ivy. Soon her disquiet emerged. “She's very attractive, isn't she?”

Dan turned to her. “Who, Ivy?”

“Chloë.”

“I suppose.” Dan agreed. Then added, “Sexy.”

Orianna felt a stab of jealousy. “Sexier than me?”

“You're different.”

“So she
is
sexier.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to.” Orianna grew mournful. “I know I'm not sexy like that.” Beside Chloë's hourglass figure, she'd felt plain plump.

“You're being silly. You're really pretty!”

“I don't want to be pretty. I want to be sexy!”

“Of
course
you're sexy.” Dan dropped her hand, faced her, and took both her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “I wouldn't be having sex with you otherwise.”

“Now you're being literal.” Orianna looked down, determined not to be comforted. Thoughts of Chloë's achievements fired her competitive spirit. “But I don't see why I
should
turn this job down. I deserve it! I've worked hard all these years, and I'm good at what I do! So what if Ivy came up with the Bellings Scott concept? It's not my fault if people like me more.”

“No, it's not. This Ivy thing has really got to you, hasn't it?” He held up her chin and smiled gently.

But his sympathy only reactivated her misery. “Oh Dan!” Emotions enhanced by tiredness and wine, Orianna started to cry. “I've a ghastly feeling about all this, I really have…” She sniffed. “I don't think Ivy will ever forgive me, I've seen what she's like. But it's hardly as if I can turn the job down—I've already accepted it. Even if I did, she'd know I was prepared to take it, and resent me all the same.” She stopped, gulped, then laughed through tears at the ludicrousness of the situation. “I keep things to myself—Ivy's furious. I try to be honest—she hates me more. I turn the job down—I suffer. If I accept it—
she
does. I can't win.”

*   *   *

“It'll be weird sleeping on the sofa,” said Chloë in a hushed voice as Rob opened the front door. “Is John here?”

“Probably,” Rob whispered.

They tiptoed down the hall.

“Gosh, it's so tidy!” said Chloë as they entered the kitchen.

“John loves cleaning.”

“How bizarre.” When Chloë and Rob had shared the apartment, they'd lived perilously close to chaos. She eyed the bleached sink. “It's a completely different color!” She filled the kettle as if this were still her own home and wandered into the living room. “Ah, Potato!” He was curled up in his favorite spot on the couch. She scooped the cat into her arms.

John wouldn't appreciate that tickling Potato's chin could engender such bliss, Rob thought. “Oh, I do miss you!” he cried, giving Chloë another hug. Potato found the encounter a bit squashed and wriggled out from between them.

“Ditto.” Chloë embraced him back, and extricated herself to reach for two mugs. “So … Do you still fancy Dan, or what?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“Darling, I've known you for
years
. The way you laughed at his jokes and hung on his every word, how you looked at him, your being desperately
nice
to Orianna … It was obvious.”

“Ah well.” Rob fetched the tea bags. “Some things never change. You and me, we always go for unavailable men, eh?”

“Speak for yourself. I've a date with a
single
banker.”

“Atta girl! Where did you meet him?”

“Oh, it'll probably come to nothing. I met him in a bar a couple of weeks ago, and he's really busy and so am I, but we've finally managed to make a date.”

“If he's a banker he's bound to be rich.” Rob concealed a twinge of envy. Why didn't
he
ever get asked out? In comparison to Chloë, he appeared to inhabit a romantic desert. A recent clearing out of his bedside cabinet had even revealed his stash of condoms to be past their sell-by date. Sighing, he thought of the one man in whom he
was
interested. He needed confirmation he was desirable. “What do you reckon about Dan then?”

“I think he's incredibly nice looking. And he seemed a genuine guy.”

“It's just I really like him.”

“I know. And I can tell he's very fond of you.”

“D'you think?” Rob was pleased.

“Yes.”

“Just fond?”

She looked at him squarely and said gently, “I think he's in love with Orianna.”

Rob's heart sank.

“I want you to be certain you're not falling for him because you can't have him. We both love a challenge, but hankering after an unavailable guy is often a surefire way to a broken heart, and I don't want to see you hurt.” Chloë grinned. “That said, if there's anyone who can convert even the straightest of men, it's you. You're irresistible when in the mood. Never say never, that's my motto.”

 

11. Foul charms

In Chelsea, events were taking a different turn. Russell was most displeased to have an expensive shirt ruined, let alone be told how to behave by Ivy. The moment she put down her wineglass he grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the counter.

“You're being ridiculous,” he hissed. “You of all people should appreciate however much clout I have. It takes more than one person to get anything signed off at Green. You know I don't have the power to veto something ratified by the rest of the board. I argued for your joint promotion, but my fighting so keenly on your behalf was beginning to look suspicious. The company simply can't afford you both, either politically or financially.” He paused, and as Ivy relaxed her rigid stance, edged his leg between hers. “
Entre nous,
my dear, we're only offering Orianna the job because she's cheaper than other candidates we interviewed. We'll give her a negligible raise to keep her happy and working all hours, but it'll be far less than the crazy amounts they were demanding, trust me. And the agency has hardly had a good year—these are hard times for any enterprise, and it's not as if we've big financial backing. Whatever we shell out in salaries comes straight off the bottom line.”

His breath was hot on her neck, the fabric of his trousers rough against her skin; Ivy felt a rush of arousal. She'd long found his power a potent aphrodisiac—never more so than now.

He pressed on. “You'll also recall that I've engineered you a salary substantially higher than Orianna's, although she has no idea. This promotion will merely even up the balance and give her some meaningless little title—she won't be on the board itself for a while, I guarantee, no matter what she's been told. Bear in mind Neil was only granted board director status less than a year ago, and he had to fight Stephen and Gavin tooth and nail to get creative representation at the top. They're hardly going to give that amount of authority away if they can avoid it, are they?”

Ivy had to admit she could see what he meant. And as Russell began to rub her inner thigh, her willpower waned.

“One other thing.” His voice was quiet and harsh. “If the agency isn't careful, it's possible there'll be layoffs, so I wouldn't protest too loud. Because you're soon to be a writer without an art director, it could backfire horribly. You're extremely well paid, not to mention your other benefits, and it's tough out there. I don't think you'd find it much fun, job hunting … So you should count yourself lucky, or I could end up battling for rather more than your promotion and a position on the board.”

Jesus, thought Ivy, what he's saying is
disastrous
career-wise, but what he's doing feels
so
good … By now she was powerless to contradict him.

Russell eased up her skirt and slipped his hand into her knickers. “And as for your tittle-tattling, it strikes me that Ed wouldn't be any happier to hear about your industrial relations over the last three years than my wife. Would he?”

“No!” Ivy gasped. He'd hit a nerve.

“Because with that huge pad in Hoxton and that sexy little car…” As he pushed his finger deep inside her, he drove his argument home, “I'm not the only one with a lot to lose.”