23

 

Seated in Philippe Baronne’s office the next day, Maxi fought to clear her mind of every thought, every emotion, to keep her mind a blank slate.

She’d cried herself out on the flight to La Guardia yesterday, much to the apparent consternation of the flight attendants. But at least they’d left her alone, curled up in her window seat for the duration of the flight. When the plane landed, she walked out of the airport with her carry-on bag and hailed a cab, feeling like a person underwater, where everything appeared muffled and slow moving. Once she got to her apartment, the crushing depression magnified. There was no way she could face Philippe in this condition. So she’d called, told him she was in New York as promised, but felt ill after her trip. Although annoyed, Philippe had grudgingly agreed to meet with her the next day. A twelve-hour reprieve. Could she pull herself together enough in that time to convince her boss of her suitability as a partner?

Now, after waiting in his office for twenty minutes, Maxi didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the façade of calmness. If Philippe didn’t come in soon, she’d crash and burn like the Hindenburg.

“Maxi, there you are. At last.” Philippe burst through the door in his usual exuberant style, dressed impeccably in a gray pinstriped suit. He bent to kiss both her cheeks. “I trust you are well?”

The question made her want to laugh out loud. Only the fact that she would appear unbalanced made her choke back the response. “Fine. What did you want to see me about so urgently?”

He paused to look down at her with narrowed eyes. “You say ‘fine,’ but I say no. Not fine. You have dark circles, and you’ve been crying.” His expression changed to concern. “Your maman is worse?”

Maxi’s gaze slid to her lap. “No, in fact she’s doing much better.”

“Then what is wrong, chérie?”

Part of her longed to pour out her problems to him, the other part knew it would be professional suicide. She lifted her chin. “Nothing I can’t handle. Now, why did you summon me here?”

One eyebrow rose a fraction. “You need to ask?” With the grace of a gazelle, he slipped around his desk and into his leather chair. “I’m supposed to make a decision about the partner, and I have heard nothing from you. Forcing me to ask, are you still interested in the partnership, or should I simply award it to Sierra?”

Even though Maxi knew he was baiting her, irritation prickled under her skin. Her temper roused to life, breaking through the fog of depression for a brief moment. “Of course I’m still interested. And what do you mean you haven’t seen anything from me? Didn’t you get the pictures I e-mailed to you?”

“Quoi? What pictures?”

Unease stirred in her chest. “Two stunning women, among others. Lily, a gorgeous brunette, brown eyes, an elegant up-do. The other a young blonde, model-like, with a trendy cut ‘a-la-Maxi.’ I sent them to you over a week ago.”

Why hadn’t she followed up with him to make sure he’d received them?

Philippe’s chiseled face, normally as easy to read as a tabloid cover, now froze. “It cannot be…”

“What’s wrong?”

Without a word, he pulled open a drawer and took out a file folder. His well-manicured fingers pulled out two eight-by-ten headshots.

Relief spread through her stiff limbs. “You did get them. I think they’re some of my best work.” She pulled the shot of Dora Lee toward her. “Especially this one. I couldn’t believe the transformation.” She looked up to see his reaction, but his forehead, wreathed in wrinkles, did not ease her mind.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

Without a word, Philippe rose and walked to the window. “I should have recognized it. I wondered how Sierra’s work had improved by such a degree.”

Maxi shot out of her chair as a red-hot burst of anger spurted through her system. “Are you telling me Sierra is taking credit for these?”

His silence told her everything.

“How is that possible?”

“I do not know. She submitted these as part of her portfolio.”

Maxi paced the room as her brain whirled with possibilities. Sierra must have intercepted the e-mail before Philippe had seen it. The desire to rip Sierra’s honey hair out of her head rose like an inferno inside her. Not only had the viper stolen her clients, she’d stolen her photos as well. Maxi gripped her hands together to keep from hurling one of Philippe’s statues across the room.

“I can prove they’re mine. I have the pictures on my camera. I can—” She paused to gain a measure of control. “Sierra must be really insecure to stoop this low. Hacking into your e-mail account.” Maxi crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a foot on the carpet. “The question is, Philippe, what are you going to do about it?”

He turned to give her a thoughtful stare. Maxi waited, certain he’d throw Sierra’s sorry butt out of the salon. For starters, Philippe didn’t tolerate dishonesty or manipulation, never mind hijacking his personal e-mail. She smiled smugly to herself. The partnership had just been handed to her on a silver platter.

“I will have to consider the situation and give you an answer in the morning.”

Disbelief made Maxi’s jaw drop. Once again the fuse to her temper licked to life with white-hot ire. “What is there to consider? She stole my clients and my portfolio.” Maxi hated the way her voice rang with a hint of hysteria. “You’re not going to let her get away with it?”

Philippe’s mouth formed a grim line. He walked to his desk and sat down, an action Maxi knew was a form of dismissal. “I will talk to you in the morning.”

Betrayal by someone like Sierra was not unexpected. But this cool dismissal by her mentor cut deeply. Coming so close on the heels of Jason’s rejection, Maxi’s wounds sat open and raw. She swallowed her hurt and stiffened her spine, allowing anger to form a covering of armor-like steel around her. “Just so you know, I’ll be contacting my lawyer. To protect my interests in this...matter. You may be willing to forgive Sierra, but I most certainly am not.”

Slamming Philippe’s door on the way out did little to release the pressure valve of her temper. Maxi stalked down the hall, her footsteps rattling on the tiles like gunfire. She almost hoped she’d run into Sierra. At this particular moment, she felt capable of anything. A good physical fight might ease the tightness in her chest.

The object of her ire happened to breeze in the double glass doors of the salon as Maxi entered the foyer. Maxi zeroed in on Sierra’s confident sashay, and bee-lined toward her with single-minded purpose. She stopped inches from Sierra’s surprised face.

“You stole my clients and my portfolio pictures,” Maxi hissed through clenched teeth.

Sierra recovered her poise quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She moved to go by her, but Maxi clamped a steely hand on her arm.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And now Philippe knows, too. Tomorrow my lawyer will be here to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

A sheen of perspiration formed on Sierra’s perfect nose. “You’re insane.”

The superiority of her tone broke the last thread of control. The urge to strike out at her tormenter burned hot in Maxi’s veins.

Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, a voice in her head whispered.

Maxi froze, her body vibrating with repressed rage. She forced herself to breathe in and out, and to think about the potential consequences of attacking Sierra. She dropped her hand in disgust. No, she wouldn’t stoop to physical violence. Instead she curled her hand into a fist so tight that her nails pierced her palms.

“You won’t get away with this.” Each breath puffed out through her widened nostrils. Then before Maxi could act on her baser impulses, she stormed out through the main glass doors. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, she tore down the stairs to the lobby below.

A bubble of pain lodged in her chest as she strode down Fifth Avenue, but she would not allow it to burst in a torrent of tears. She was done with useless crying.

From now on, Maxi would take fate into her own hands.