Chapter 2 So, You're Done Playing with Me?
Elizabeth pulled her car over to the side of the road. When Armando's question about pregnancy came, she kept her voice cool and even. "I'm not pregnant. My stomach's just been upset these past few days."
Leaning against the wardrobe, Armando's gaze was flat, his smile edged with mockery. "Elizabeth, you'd better not lie to me. No one gets to secure the position of lady of the house by playing the pregnancy card anymore."
Her chest tightened. So that was what he thought of her.
Her hand drifted to her still-flat stomach. "Mr. Johnson, how could I possibly be pregnant? We used protection that night. It was high quality... no chance of failure."
He lifted his eyes but said nothing.
The Johnson Group spent the morning locked in meetings. By noon, Elizabeth brought a freshly brewed coffee into Armando's office, along with the report he'd requested on the Starlight Group.
Her eyes skimmed over the document. The Johnson Group had never ventured into the entertainment industry before. Starlight Group was one of the largest players in that field. She'd only just learned from the news that Sherry had signed with them today as an exclusive artist.
Was Armando planning to buy into Starlight Group... for her?
Elizabeth didn't leave right away. She decided to address last night. "Ms. Scott is back."
Armando stopped working, leaned back in his chair, and his voice was cool as ice. "This isn't your concern. Don't make it your concern."
The words were a warning.
She hesitated for a moment. It hurt, but she had to ask. "She's back... are you planning to divorce me?"
His eyes flicked over her. "You can keep being Mrs. Johnson. Grandmother likes you."
Elizabeth had always been good at keeping Bronte happy.
His answer made her fingers curl inward. Disappointment and sadness knotted together. He wanted to keep the marriage... because Bronte liked her. As long as Bronte was alive, he wouldn't end it.
So what was she supposed to do? Stand between Armando and Sherry like some kind of joke?
Armando's phone lit up on the desk. The caller ID read "Sherry." He'd saved Elizabeth's number under "Secretary." Sherry's was simply "Sherry."
Elizabeth kept her face neutral until he finished the call. Then she briefed him on the Wilson family banquet scheduled for tonight.
Armando flipped through the Starlight Group file without looking up. "I'm busy tonight. Take the gift to Mr. Wilson for me."
"Alright." She turned and left.
He glanced after her, then bent back over the papers.
Tonight was Preston Wilson's sixty-sixth birthday. The celebration was at the Hilton Hotel.
Elizabeth arrived in a sapphire-blue couture gown, carrying the gift.
"Ms. Penrose, thank you for coming. Welcome," Preston greeted warmly, shaking her hand.
The Johnson Group was a major client of the Wilson Group, and Elizabeth was one of Armando's most trusted aides. Preston always extended courtesy to her.
"Mr. Johnson had an urgent matter and couldn't attend. Mr. Wilson, happy birthday." She smiled and raised her glass.
Preston nodded in understanding. "I'm glad you could make it, Ms. Penrose."
His words faltered, his expression shifting to awkwardness. Elizabeth caught it and turned.
Sherry, in a white gown, walked in on Armando's arm.
Elizabeth's smile froze.
So this was Armando's "urgent matter."
"Mr. Wilson, happy birthday," Sherry said, her eyes curved in a warm smile.
"Thank you."
"Mr. Wilson, happy birthday," Armando echoed, picking up a glass from a passing tray and clinking it with Preston's.
Sherry looked at Elizabeth. "Ms. Penrose."
Elizabeth's lips curved faintly. "Ms. Scott."
The band played soft, elegant music. Guests were already dancing.
"Ms. Penrose, did you come alone?" Sherry asked.
"My date was in a minor car accident on the way."
Sherry's brows lifted in concern. "Is he alright?"
Preston looked worried too. It wasn't ideal for a guest to be in an accident en route to his birthday celebration.
Elizabeth smiled lightly. "Nothing serious, Mr. Wilson. Just a small fender-bender. The other driver insisted on discussing compensation."
Preston's relief was visible. "That's good to hear."
When Preston moved off to greet other guests, Elizabeth's expression cooled. She straightened her back and walked away. Tonight, she would write her resignation.
Sherry tilted her head toward Armando. "Ms. Penrose didn't seem happy."
Armando's gaze followed Elizabeth's retreating figure. He saw her accept an invitation to dance from Preston's eldest son, Michael Wilson, and frowned. "She's not upset."
She was dancing, wasn't she? How upset could she be?
Michael was notorious for his way with women. And she was letting him lead her onto the floor. Reckless.
Elizabeth hadn't expected Michael to pull her straight into a dance. In this setting, she couldn't make a scene. The heavy scent of alcohol clung to him.
Her brows drew together. "Mr. Wilson, let go."
His arm tightened around her waist. "Ms. Penrose, ever thought about working for the Wilson Group? Double the salary you get at Johnson. What do you say?"
She met his gaze coolly. "You're not in a position to make that offer."
Michael was a department manager in name only, spending most of his time drinking and chasing women.
He didn't take offense. With women like Elizabeth, he was patient. His hand lingered on her waist.
Her expression sharpened. She lifted her heel and drove it hard into the top of his shoe.
Pain twisted his face, and he released her.
Elizabeth turned and walked away.
She was leaving the Hilton Hotel when a voice barked, "Elizabeth! Stop!"
She frowned. She hadn't stepped hard enough.
Michael caught her arm.
"Mr. Wilson, don't push it," she said coldly.
His eyes lit with excitement. That cool face, that striking figure—he'd wanted her for a long time. "Ms. Penrose, why pretend? I'm sure Mr. Johnson's already tired of you."
Elizabeth drew a deep breath, a smile touching her lips. "If you want to know whether Mr. Johnson's tired of me, you can turn around and ask him yourself."
She tilted her chin toward the space behind him.
Armando stood there with Sherry, watching.