Breaking the Ice

Chapter 3

3

There were protestors outside Samantha’s office building when she arrived the next morning, which was about all she needed after yesterday’s bombshell from Nick. She was still stewing over that announcement.

Nick Hawke running the bookshop. Her bookshop.

What would Mr. Look-At-My-Stick-Control know about romance novels? What the hell did he know about Rita Summers? How was she going to converse with Hawkeye for hours about fictional pirates as she and Birdie had done? How could he possibly understand the sheer bliss of completely losing yourself in the swoon-worthy stories?

The man looked like he’d sprung from one of the goddamn pages and yesterday had been no exception. He’d been all tall and broad and ruggedly sexy with his three-day growth somehow managing to emphasize, rather than hide, that distractingly sexy chin cleft. His scruffily rumpled, long, dark hair was pushed back off his face making him look like Fabio and Henry Cavill’s love child.

Really, was it fair for one guy to monopolize every single desirable physical trait gifted to man? Was it not enough to be a highly paid jock, to have million-dollar sponsorship deals thrown at you without adding, looks like a screen god?

Christ on a cracker.

Was the entire world going crazy? First Gary, then her eggs, then Birdie. And now Nick. Who played sports . In her shop.

The protestors were carrying placards and yelling about the shady business dealings of their newest oil company client. Samantha had objected through the normal channels when PE Finance had been considering their business. It wasn’t like they needed the money and she felt strongly about PE being a good corporate citizen because, by and large, they were. She had garnered some important support within the company, but ultimately, PE had decided to take on the new client. Which was another reason why she wanted to keep moving up, so her voice carried more and more weight in the decision-making process.

She loved working for PE, but it swung older and very much penis orientated at the top. They needed some youth and diversity to really put them into the best position going forward – this decision being a good case in point.

A young guy with dreadlocks handed her a pamphlet as she pushed through the ragtag crowd. She read it as the elevator ushered her in efficient silence to her floor, the usual ills staring back at her in bold angry pen strokes. Shady deals to countries with even shadier leaders. Their dealings in misinformation campaigns. Contribution to climate change which was not only killing the planet but everyone on it including helpless babies.

Babies. Samantha’s stomach lurched and she swallowed as her eggs wept.

The elevator pinged open and Samantha made a direct line for the CEO’s corner office for their regular morning meeting.

“Bob,” she greeted as she entered.

“Sammy,” he boomed, waving her over to the window where he was standing.

Samantha had never been enamored with his insistence on infantilizing her name. Sammy sounded like such a little girl . After five years she barely registered it anymore but for some reason, this morning, it was exceptionally irritating.

Joining him at his floor-to-ceiling window, she looked down at what he was muttering over. The protestors swarmed like ants around the bottom of the building. “Goddamn rent-a-crowd,” he growled. “All we’re trying to do up here is earn an honest living. I bet that’s something they wouldn’t know the first thing about.”

“I did warn the board this would happen,” Samantha said, handing over the pamphlet.

He looked at it disparagingly and then crumpled it up. “What our clients do is none of our business. We invest their money, get them the best tax advantages money can buy and keep ’em happy.”

“We could make it our business,” she murmured. “You know these guys are going to screw up somewhere at some point to the detriment of the environment. Then what do I tell my kids when they ask me why I didn’t?—”

“ Kids? ” Bob interrupted with a splutter.

He gaped at her and Samantha couldn’t really blame him. Where the hell had that come from? Were her eggs controlling her mouth now?

Bob stood there doing a very good impression of a fish out of water before he launched into his tirade. “You stood here, in this very office five years ago, and swore black and blue that you didn’t want kids.”

Samantha sighed. It was true – she had. He hadn’t asked her outright, but she’d sensed Bob had been prevaricating and she’d taken a punt that it was her reproductive potential that was making him reticent. Of course, it was questionable – not to mention illegal – to use her age to discriminate against her in an interview situation but it hadn’t mattered at the time. She’d wanted the job and she sure as hell hadn’t wanted children.

“You’re right,” she nodded. “I didn’t… I don’t. It’s just… my eggs have started talking to me. I think my clock has suddenly started ticking.”

He stared at her, clearly mystified by the statement – something over which she could empathize. She didn’t really understand what was happening, either. “Don’t worry,” she assured. “I’m having a bad couple of days. Forget it.”

Samantha made a mental note to see her gynecologist about having her eggs surgically removed as she left his office.

Bob’s secretary buzzed after lunch and she responded to the summons without the usual spring in her step. “I want you to take some leave.”

Samantha would have laughed at Bob’s no-nonsense, no-beating-around-the-bush method, if he hadn’t been so serious.

“I beg your pardon?” What the hell was this?

“You’re obviously a little stressed and not nearly as focused as you should be. I’ve checked; you haven’t taken any annual leave in the last five years. Take it now. Come back when your err… eggs … have stopped talking.”

Samantha couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Are you… sacking me?” She’d had one tiny blip in her focus and he’d terminated her employment?

“Of course not,” he boomed. “But I’ll not lie to you, Sammy. I need someone who’s more than just a damn good accountant. I need someone who’s going to play the game. Someone who can give me 110 per cent. Kids, Sammy… they shift a woman’s focus. You need to have a good hard think about your priorities.”

“I can’t leave . I have five active accounts and three more in the pipeline worth tens of millions of dollars.”

“Ray can handle it.”

And that was when Samantha got it. This wasn’t about her focus or her leave or even her eggs. This was about the golden-haired boy. Bile rose hot and acidic in her throat. She was being put on leave under some ridiculous pretense to make way for the company douchebag!

“Ray cannot handle it,” she said through gritted teeth. Ray is a fuckwit!

“Of course he can. You’ve taught him well. And when you’re… better, he’ll be top-notch.”

Samantha snapped. Ray could kiss her ass. “No, Bob. No way. No how. No deal. It’s Ray or me. Ray or me . I will not be replaced by an incompetent fool and I will not be part of a company or any deals where our names appear together.”

“I think you need to be very careful here.” Bob’s voice lowered a degree.

Ha! Fat chance. If Bob thought she was going to sit silently while his nephew used her hard work and reputation to get a leg up then he could think again.

“Or what? You’ll fire me instead of asking me to take leave ? Well, you know what? You can stuff your job but mark my words.” She rose from the chair, jabbing her finger at the desk. “I’ll be back and do you know why? Because when your dim-witted nephew destroys years of my hard work and loses this company millions of dollars, you’re going to come crawling back. And you’d better be prepared to eat humble pie because I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

“There’s no need to get all hysterical, Sammy. I’m not sacking you.”

He was using what she assumed was his placatory voice while displaying that stricken look men often got when women went all female on them. Like he was expecting her to burn her bra or say the word vagina . Or worse – cry.

“Too bad, because I quit. It’s me or him, Bob.”

Bob shifted uncomfortably. “Ray will be fine.”

Samantha shook her head. Bob really couldn’t see his nephew for what he was. “Ray is a lazy, useless slug. Goodbye, Bob.”

Samantha strode to her office and slammed the door. How dare he choose Ray over her. That… that… old fool! She emptied out a box of printer paper and threw her desk items into it. A photo of Bec and the girls. A paperweight that Jess, her niece, had made in kindergarten. Her nameplate. A stack of Post-it notes. Strictly speaking, they weren’t hers but considering she was owed a corner office, Bob was getting off cheap.

Besides, you could never have enough Post-its.

There was a knock on her door and she growled at the intruder to go away. “What, no longer Uncle Bob’s blue-eyed girl?”

Samantha’s head snapped up as slack-jawed Ray lounged in her doorway. She looked at the faux innocent smile and seriously contemplated murder for the first time in her life. It was only the thought of being cooped up in a cell with her baby-crazy eggs for company twenty-three hours a day that stopped her from testing the crack resistant properties of her window.

In her mood, she didn’t doubt she could hurl the little weasel through the bulletproof glass.

“Don’t you have a company to bankrupt?” she said through gritted teeth.

Ray chuckled as he moved into the room and came to a halt in front of her desk. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy.” He curled his hands into fists, placed his knuckles on the wood and leaned in. “You always did underestimate me.”

Samantha blinked as Ray’s veneer fell away before her and she saw a cold calculating light frost his gaze. Suddenly she saw it all. His vacant stare replaced by a razor-sharp alertness, his hapless grin traded for a shark-like grimace, his keen, eager-puppy expression lost to a take-no-prisoners sneer.

She shivered at the utter cunning of it all. He’d been playing her. He’d had an agenda all along and that was to force her out. Unfortunately for Ray, she’d seen his work and figures didn’t lie. He may be scoring an A in scheming, but he was pulling a big fat F with numbers.

A fistful of conniving didn’t compensate for a shitload of dumb.

“I give you six months.”

Ray laughed as he pushed away from the desk and strutted to the window. “You know, Samantha, I could speak with Uncle Bob. Put in a good word.” He turned his gaze from the view to her. “Of course, I would expect you to be… grateful.”

Samantha took a moment to compute the latest twist in the mind-bending saga that was Ray, who was looking at her breasts like they were covered in whipped cream and sprinkled with nuts. He was seriously going to add sexual harassment to his list of incredibly dumb things to do at work?

Her eggs shuddered as she picked up her box. “I’d rather be unemployed for the rest of my life.”

The protestors dropped their placards and cheered as she walked out, box in her arms. It was obvious to them she was leaving and they congratulated her for her courage.

She felt like a fraud but their cheers lifted her spirits after the enormity of what she’d done and the enormity of the unknown she was launching herself into, hit big time.

Great. Now what the hell was she going to do?

Have a baby .

Oh shut up, eggs , she ordered, as for the first time in her adult life, she walked into the great unknown.