Remember Me? (Book 1) COMPLETED

Business Deals

BETSY

I woke to the sound of whispers.

Jumping to my feet, I wrapped my robe tight around me at the sudden onslaught of icy air. Rick wasn't here, but he wasn't supposed to be here anyway.

He was on the couch and, to my surprise, I heard him there all night. That slight snoring reverberating through the tense air. Until now.

There was another sound, and it wasn't the gentle rasp of breathing.

It was a voice.

Carefully, I cracked open the bedroom door and took a peek into the living room. When my eyes adjusted, I could see the outline of the kitchen on the right, and the back of the couch beyond.

A large shape paced in the darkness.

Another inspection showed that it was humanoid, and the intruder turned around, I saw the light of the phone catch his face. I sighed, relieved:

It was just Rick.

But, why would he be up at 5 in the morning?

I crept further out of the bedroom. My ears picked up a second voice, much fainter, over the drone of the air conditioning.

"You better get your act together," a woman scolded over the speaker of Rick's telephone.

He paced, distraught. "You said we could keep working on this, that you would stay here a few more days—what happened to that?"

"Life happened, Rick," the woman spat, her venom voice laced with something worse than disdain. "How did you think things would be?" When Rick started to answer, she cut him off.

"Did you really believe I would throw everything away for this?"

The coldness in her voice startled me, and I could see a change come over Rick. His voice fell to a whisper, and his eyes turned dark.

"Please, can't you reconsider—"

"Richard, the offer was never meant to stand forever."

I was close enough to see the moonlight catch his dark hair, and the abysmal sorrow etched into the creases of his face.

"Reconsider what?"

Rick turned to me at the sound of my voice. The phone slipped from his hand. "Betsy."

He looked as if he'd been caught with his pants down.

"Reconsider what?" I repeated, this time a demand more than a question.

Rick debated between reaching for the phone and turning his back to me. I didn't give him a chance to decide. Lunging faster than a heartbeat, I snatched the phone up from the ground and put it to my ear. I could barely hear the woman's voice over the sound of my own racing heart.

"—how do you expect me to work with you and tolerate all this crap, Rick?" She sighed angrily. Rick was motioning for me to give him back the phone, but with every step he took forward, I took one back. "Now what?" she said, when no one answered. "Are you mad at me—"

"Hello?"

The woman paused. "Hello? Who is this?" Another sigh. "Look, I was on the phone with Richard Chase. If you could be so kind as to transfer me back to him, I will gladly put a word in with your supervisor—"

"No," I said, the calmness in my voice masking the anger seething underneath. "You don't get to ask the questions here. Now, who the hell are you?"

"Victoria Pitchner," the woman answered, all the picture of cordiality. "You are not a secretary, I presume."