Secretary Number Five Read online

  Secretary Number Five

  By: Bridy McAvoy

  ISBN: 978-0-908325-30-6

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © May 2016, Bridy McAvoy

  Cover Art Copyright © May 2016, Brightling Spur

  Bluewood Publishing Ltd

  Christchurch, 8441, New Zealand

  www.bluewoodpublishing.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd.

  Dedication

  To everyone who helped me write this. Especially my husband who encouraged me to explore my fantasies in print.

  Chapter 1

  The moment Simon walked through the front door, Mia knew there was something wrong. Simon worked hard, long hours at the company where he’d risen to VP of Sales in just nine years, and as a result didn’t spend a long time in the sun, so was pale by nature—but she’d never seen him as pale.

  “Simon, honey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  He nodded an acknowledgement and, putting his briefcase down in the hall, turned to face her. Instinct took over and Mia moved to put her arms around him to give him a reassuring cuddle, but he put his hands out and held her away from him, shaking his head.

  “Simon?”

  He took a deep breath and she could see the anguish in his eyes. “Sweetheart, we need to talk.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah… We need to talk, but let me get a drink first.”

  “What’s wrong? Is it the company? Your job?”

  A million things ran through her head as he walked past her into the kitchen, pulled out a couple of glasses and then the bottle of bourbon she kept in the kitchen for cooking. Simon usually preferred the branded booze, but he just made a beeline for the cheap one in the kitchen.

  “Honey…”

  He shook his head, poured two very generous glasses, and took a deep swallow from one of them and topped it back up.

  “I think you need to sit down.”

  “For Christ’s sake tell me what’s going on? Is it work related or not?”

  He nodded, handing her a glass as she perched on the end of the couch.

  “Someone’s been hurt, killed?”

  “No, nothing like that, and the company will survive this. Hell, my job will survive this, but I doubt I’ll make the main board when Jim retires in a couple of years—not now.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  There was real pain in his eyes—she could see that—and she was more surprised still when he sat on the couch opposite rather than next to her as he usually would. In fact, she couldn’t think of an occasion when he hadn’t sat next to her. Usually he’d put his arm around her and they’d cuddle.

  “I need to tell you something—and I wish I didn’t have to—but it’ll be news by next week, and when it is the shit will hit the fan.”

  “What?”

  “Promise you won’t hate me, Mia. I love you more than anything else.”

  “Hate you for what? I’m starting to hate you because you’re not telling me anything.”

  “I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want to risk our marriage, but I guess it just happened…”

  “What just happened?”

  She was getting irritated now, seriously irritated, but Simon still seemed reluctant.

  “I spoke to Jim this afternoon. Dinner’s cancelled, or at least postponed.”

  They were supposed to be going to his boss’s house for dinner but obviously whatever had happened interfered with plans.

  “I haven’t got anything prepared.”

  Actually she had—herself. She’d spent the afternoon getting pampered in the salon and had even bought a new dress. Under the light cotton summer dress, she was wearing her underwear for the evening. All she had expected to do was change her dress and touch up her makeup. Simon was so distracted he hadn’t even noticed her new hair-do. Seeing as her husband of eleven years always complimented her on things like that, she knew whatever this was, it was serious.

  “Honey…”

  “I don’t know how to say this, but you deserve to know the truth.”

  “Well, I won’t if you don’t tell me.”

  She’d deliberately tried to soften her tone, coaxing it out of him rather than picking him up and shaking it out of him. She forced her irritation and impatience down, recognizing he needed some time. Mia sat quietly for a minute as he sipped at his bourbon, clearly trying to control himself too.

  It took him a couple of minutes. “It’s Teresa.”

  “Your secretary?”

  He nodded. “Yes, she’s… God, I’m sorry, Mia, I truly am. She’s suing the company.”

  “Suing the company? That’s bad, but why has that got you so upset?”

  A cold knot of fear formed in her stomach and, reaching for her glass, she took a mouthful, the fiery spirit burning its way down to her empty stomach.

  “I’m truly sorry to hurt you, Mia, but I’m at the center of her case.”

  The knot hardened into a ball of ice and she shivered.

  “She’s… I don’t know how else to say this. She’s suing the company for sexual harassment.”

  “Sexual harassment? I mean—who, how?”

  She looked at him, her words at odds with her thoughts. She’d already put two and two together and she hoped she’d arrived at some number way above four.

  “Me.”

  “You?” Her voice had gone up an octave and she forced herself to calm down. “You… What? You touched her? You kissed her at the Christmas party?”

  He shook his head then hung it, his next words coming out as a mumble.

  “What did you say?”

  “She’s got video.”

  “Video?” Even with his head down, she could see him biting his lip, and knew what he was about to say was going to be hard—hard for him to say, and harder for her to hear.

  “Yeah, of me and her in a hotel room.”

  He looked up at her and she could see real tears streaking his face. She’d rarely seen him cry, not since the time he’d found out he couldn’t give her the child they’d both craved. For the last eight years since, she thought they’d been happy. Now she’d just been kicked in the stomach by a horse.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, Mia. So, so sorry… I’ve been stupid, so fucking stupid.”

  “You… You’ve…been…having…an affair…with…that…bitch?” She spaced her words out, trying to keep the fury in check, then watched as he closed his eyes and nodded.

  “Mia, I love you. It wasn’t the sex, it was a power trip. I’m so, so sorry.”

  She wanted to throw something at him, something big and heavy, much bigger and heavier than the whiskey glass in her hand. The table lamp would be better but it was closer to him than to her and she didn’t trust herself to move.

  Before she could say or do anything, he spoke again. “But that’s not all.”

  “What do you mean, that’s not all?”

  He shuddered under the impact of the venom in her voice. “Teresa—well, she’s a bright little gold-digger. She went looking for other evidence and found it.”

  “Other evidence?”

  He nodded, his face a picture of woe. “Yeah, one of her predecessors has jumped on the bandwagon too. Not all of them, but she’ll cal
l them as witnesses.”

  “Three… You mean you’ve fucked what—two, three…no, four of your secretaries?”

  He swallowed hard and shook his head, his voice dropping even lower in volume. “All four, if you count Teresa.”

  “You bastard! You fucking bastard! Isn’t one woman enough for you? Aren’t I good enough for you?”

  Her temper was really up now as she watched her life crumble to ashes on the pyre of his words.

  He shook his head. “No, Mia, sweetheart…”

  “Don’t you fucking sweetheart me, you fucking cheating bastard!” She was venting, she knew that, but as far as she was concerned, she had reason—damned good reason—to yell at him.

  “Okay, maybe I’ve forfeited that right, but I do still love you. And no, it wasn’t like that. It was a power thing, an ego trip to think I could have any woman that worked for me, and still come home to the woman I love.”

  “So, you’ve wrecked your career, probably cost your employer a shed-load of money and prestige, and cost you your marriage. Tell me, how does that feel for a power trip now, buster?” She tried to force herself to calm down but it wasn’t happening. If there’d been a valve on the top of her head it would have been letting superheated steam out. A red mist seemed to cloud the edges of her vision, but she didn’t look away from him, holding him pinned there with her stare.

  “Please, Mia…”

  She rose to her feet and carefully set the glass down on the coffee table. She felt like throwing it at him but restrained herself, wishing that he had restrained himself.

  The six-foot-two tall man she’d married almost cowered away from her as she stood over him.

  “Give me one good reason why I should even be prepared to be in the same room as you?”

  “Because I love you…”

  “No, that’s your reason.”

  “Because you love me. Hang it all, we’re married.”

  “Married? Married? Tell me, did that matter to you while you were fucking those little cuties? Tell me, what did they do for you that I didn’t, hey? Go on, tell me one thing?”

  She almost regretted the words. She could think of a couple of things he might say which would be true, but it was too late. She’d asked a question that she probably shouldn’t have.

  “No… I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t, honey…”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He blanched, visibly taken aback by her vehemence. “Mia, look, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry you did it? Or sorry you got caught? I can’t fucking believe a word you say, you, you…you…bastard.”

  Her vocabulary let her down, she couldn’t think what to call the man she loved, the man who, up until ten minutes ago she’d trusted, the man who’d let her down so badly. She needed space. “Get out.”

  “What?”

  “Get out of my sight. Go hibernate in the study for a while. I don’t want to talk to you, see you, or hear your voice for a while. This conversation is not over, not by a long chalk. For now, just go.”

  He rose to his feet and tried to step toward her. “Mia…”

  She backed away, maintaining separation from him. “Don’t even think about touching me. Get out of my sight.”

  His shoulders slumped as he gave in. Simon turned and walked toward the den and through into the study beyond.

  * * * *

  On the simple basis that she didn’t want him to see her cry, she’d retreated to the bedroom, then through into the en-suite, locking the door before she’d let the sobs out. She wasn’t sure how long she was in there before she felt cried out, but it must have been fifteen or twenty minutes. The bedroom was empty when she returned and she stared at the marital bed balefully, not really wanting to think about the time she’d shared there with Simon. She’d changed the sheets that morning so at least the bed wouldn’t smell of him, but she was absolutely certain he wouldn’t spend tonight in there with her. She quickly opened his wardrobe and pulled half a dozen fresh shirts on their hangers, and a couple of clean suits down and carried them through into the spare room at the far end of the landing. There was a bigger one but that was too close. Part of her wanted to just toss the clothes in a tangled heap on the bed. Something stayed her hand and she hung them in the wardrobe, probably due to her investment in laundering them.

  She’d returned to her room and was just picking through his underwear and sock drawers when the bedside phone rang. She picked it up automatically.

  “Hello?”

  “Mia, how are you?”

  Jim, her husband’s boss’s voice, reverberated down the line. His general bonhomie was enough to tell her he was waiting to find out if she knew yet or not. She probably guessed he was betting fifty-fifty on Simon coming home to face the music, or had stopped at a bar for some Dutch courage on the way.

  “Cut the act, Jim, he’s told me.”

  “Ah. Listen, Mia, I’m sorry.”

  “He’s a cheating bastard, that’s what he is. Did he learn that from you?”

  “Ouch, Mia, that was a bit harsh.”

  She sighed. It wasn’t really fair to vent at Jim. She had no idea if he’d ever cheated on his wife and, for that matter, had no intention of ever finding out. “Sorry, but I think you can understand how I feel.”

  “Of course I can. Listen, if you want to come and talk about it, we’re here.”

  “What’s this, damage limitation protocol? Stopping the little wife upsetting the deal you’ve made with the slut’s lawyers?”

  “Mia! No, it isn’t. No way. The company stands by him because he’s a good salesman, and damned good at his job. He’s fucked up—pardon my language—but he’s fucked up his personal life too and we’re dreadfully sorry about that.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “You should know me better. For that matter, you should know him better. This afternoon as it all blew up, the only thing he did was sit at the conference table and sob out your name.”

  That rocked her. Simon was rock-solid in a crisis—had always been so. He never flapped, he never lost control.

  “Believe me or not, the only thing he was interested in was saving his marriage. Before he left the board room he handed me his resignation and I still have it. I told him I’d tear it up once he left the room but he said no. If you left him he was walking out and not coming back. That piece of paper covered my ass, not his.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mia, you two are too good together to let this split you up. I know it’s not good, I know it’s not easy, but you need to hear him out. Our lawyers say they can make a case and defend us. This girl’s got a rep. Okay, he should have kept it in his pants, stayed professional, but he didn’t. There’s only one consequence he’s worried about.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’ve been telling you that for the last five minutes, Mia, but you’re not hearing me. You. You are the only thing he’s prepared to think about. He knows he’s been stupid, but he doesn’t care what happens to his job—his career. He wants to save his marriage.”

  “I see.” She tried hard not to sob down the phone.

  “I know you think I’m making this call for the company’s sake, but I’m not, Mia. It may take weeks, it may take months, but don’t give up on him. He’s a good guy, and he’s scared sick that’ll you’ll just walk away. Please don’t, Mia.”

  Jim fell silent and she gripped the phone until her knuckles went white in an attempt to stop the tears starting again.

  “Mia?” It was Marion’s voice, Jim’s wife.

  “Yes?”

  “Jim means every word. He’s in deep shit for letting Simon stray, although I’m inclined to think he just didn’t read the signs properly. The invitation stands, honey, and it’s not about the company—it’s about you and Simon. Your marriage might need a lot of work right now, but it’s worth the work.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “I know, honey, I do know. Now, if y
ou need anything, or you just want to talk, just pick up the phone.”

  Mia forced herself to smile, a little tight one, which only she could have seen. “I will.”

  “Good. Now from one woman to another—don’t just go forgiving him, either. Make the worm squirm, honey. It’ll be worth it in the end. Bye.”

  She put the phone down and sat staring into the dressing table mirror on the other side of the bedroom. Even from this distance she could see her eyes were red and puffy, her makeup ruined. That would never do. She didn’t want Simon to see her in this state. She quickly finished transferring his stuff and then repaired the damage to her makeup. For a few moments she thought about changing into the new dress she’d bought that afternoon but decided against it.

  Forcing another tight smile, she nodded to herself. Although she hadn’t agreed with Jim and Marion on the phone, she wasn’t going to just let her marriage go. She was going to fight for it, but she was going to do it her way, and she doubted Simon was going to enjoy the process.

  Chapter 2

  Simon was sitting behind his desk in the study. His head in hands, he looked the perfect picture of misery as Mia pushed the door open. He looked up and she could see he didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. Mia only used two words.

  “Den. Now.”

  Simon took a deep breath and nodded, his head moving ponderously before he reached down to the top of the desk and pushed on it with his hands to lever himself up. Under any other circumstances Mia would have gone to him—she could see he was broken. The man she loved, the love of her life, was a broken shell, a shadow of a man, but she couldn’t—not when he’d brought this on himself.

  She moved away from the door and walked through to the den, the lower level of their split level home, and sat on the couch which backed onto the window. With the west-facing aspect of the house, the sun streamed through the window, warming the back of her head but leaving her face in shadow. The couch facing, though, was in full sun, and Simon would be fully illuminated so she could see every facial movement as they talked—or rather, as she questioned and he answered. A minute or so later he appeared in the archway and walked down the four steps into the room.