The conversation ended abruptly with Lucy barely managing to say goodbye. She slammed down the phone and her face returned to a bright, brilliant red. She was furious.
"That son of a bitch!"
"Who? What's going on? Tell me!"
Lucy stomped from one side of the room to the other, hands on hips, steam rising from her ears.
"I've changed my mind. You should go to that seminar, and I think you should kill him."
"Who? Damien?"
"No! Yes!" Lucy ran a hand through her short blond hair and continued storming across her office floor.
Abbey stood in Lucy's way and placed her hands on her shoulders. "What's going on?"
Lucy huffed and puffed some more then said, "Mrs. Vane received the photos. It's not Damien Vane!"
Abbey's heart leapt then dove. She shook her head because it suddenly felt full of cobwebs. "What do you mean? The guy I slept with wasn't Damien?"
Lucy nodded. "Exactly. It's his boss, Nick Delaware, the CEO of Software Solutions. Some rich investor from Sydney with a finger in every pie."
"Oh." Abbey sat down heavily on the edge of the desk. "So why was he pretending to be Damien Vane?"
Lucy shrugged. "She didn't know."
"So where's the real Vane?"
Lucy shrugged again. "She didn't know that either."
"Oh my God." Abbey let out a long breath. "What the hell is going on?" It felt like a cold lump of ice had settled in her stomach. "And why the hell didn't he tell me who he really was?"
"Because he's a bastard," said Lucy, putting an arm around her friend. "He's worse than Vane. He's a liar and a sleaze."
"Well, we don't actually know that he's a sleaze now."
"He slept with you straight away, didn't he?"
Abbey shrugged. It was true but she'd mostly contributed to that part. Did that make her a sleaze too?
Whatever she was, one thing was clear. This guy, Nick Delaware, was a liar, plain and simple. He could've made her life a lot easier over the last few days if he'd just told her his name wasn't Damien Vane. She wouldn't have immediately assumed he was married or a womanizer for a start, saving her from the terrible feeling that had closed around her heart a few days ago and hadn't budged since.
It might also have meant they could've parted on better terms instead of the way they'd parted yesterday—angry and hurt. Then again, maybe Delaware was just like Vane. Married and just out for a good time while his wife's back was turned.
Why else would he have lied? Why else would he have slept with her without so much as a "nice to meet you"?
Abbey gripped the edge of the desk, her fingernails tearing at the wood.
"Give me the phone," she said through clenched teeth.
Lucy held up both her hands, palms outwards, pleading. "I don't think you should call him, Abbey. Just let him go. He's not worth it." A smile crept across Lucy's face. "Or you should teach him a lesson at this party tonight."
Abbey nodded slowly, her brain still trying to come to grips with the new information and the possibilities of that suggestion. "Yes. I think he needs to be taught a lesson."
Lucy grinned. "Great. How?"
Abbey sighed. "I have no idea."
Lucy's grin widened into a wicked smirk. "I think I have a few."
***
Abbey wore a short electric blue dress with tiny straps. It fitted her snugly around her br**sts and waist, then flipped out with a flirty skirt that skimmed her mid-thigh and set off the movement of her behind perfectly. So Lucy had said anyway when she picked it off a sales rack at Myer. Abbey had a matching bag and shoes and she wore her hair long in gentle waves past her shoulders. When she checked herself in the mirror before she left, she had to admit she looked good.
"Are you kidding! You look stunning," Lucy had said.
Tarken agreed. At least, the drool dripping from his lower lip implied that he did.
"Wow," was all he said. "How come you never dressed like that for me when we were dating?"
Abbey rolled her eyes at Lucy who flashed her a hundred-watt grin. They hugged and locked up Abbey's apartment. Lucy hopped into her convertible and sped off. Abbey slid into the front seat of Tarken's sleek sports car. She spent the next fifteen minutes dragging his hand off her thigh at every set of red lights.
"Why don't you come back and work for me," said Tarken as he drove slowly around looking for a car park.
"Because you're a rat, and I can get another job. A better one."
"I'll give you ten thousand extra."
Abbey scoffed. "You'd have to do a lot better than that."
He pulled into valet parking at the Crown Complex. "Twenty thousand."
Abbey stifled a gasp. "That's a lot of money. Goldstein wouldn't allow it."
"I can deal with Goldstein."
Yeah sure. Tarken hadn't dealt with Goldstein in the four years she'd been his personal assistant, she saw no reason why he'd start now.
She refused him and he shrugged. "Suit yourself. We'll talk again in two weeks. I doubt you'll have found anything as good as JJC by then."
Abbey swallowed her rising anger.
Switching her attention from Tarken's proposal to the evening at hand, she got out of the car and took a deep breath. She could do this. She had to. She still didn't have a clue what her plan was, but Abbey knew it did involve making Nick Delaware realize what he was missing. That was what the dress and the makeup were for. What happened after he'd realized what he was missing was anyone's guess.
She hadn't decided whether to confront him with what she knew, or whether to let him play out his little game and deny him what he wanted—which she hoped would be her. The denying part was the weakest link in the plan.
Inside, the room was filled with men in dark suits and women in cocktail dresses. At least she wouldn't feel out of place and would blend right in.
Wrong.
Heads turned as she walked passed. She heard a few murmurs, saw a few jaws drop and suddenly she wished she'd worn a dress that wasn't so tight fitting or at least had a back to it.
The only person who seemed to be enjoying the grand entrance was Tarken. His arm tightened around her waist and Abbey was too embarrassed to make him let go. She'd wait until everyone turned around again then she'd order him to lay off.
Tarken nodded to a few people he recognized and Abbey was surprised to see a few faces she knew too. Mostly people from other pharmaceutical companies who must also be considering new software on demonstration at the seminar.
She nodded and smiled and expected Tarken to stop and talk, but he continued on. A waiter handed them a drink of champagne and Abbey took a sip. Tarken ignored him and pushed through the crowd. He glanced around the room, scanning the faces, looking for someone. Delaware.