What a Woman Gets by Judi Fennell Page B

I haven’t before because you needed me to be available for the company.
You
put me in that penthouse. I was happy in the loft.”
    â€œThe penthouse is more your style—”
    â€œNo, the penthouse is more
your
style and you like letting it be known that I live there. I’ve always been a figurehead for you. The single dad who took his daughter under his wing and set her up in the company. Only you and I know that my role is completely superficial and my job description is to be a size two and look good. Any one of your bimbettes could pull that off.”
    Oh shit. That comment had gone too far. She knew it by the narrowing of his eyes and the V of his eyebrows. More than the arching, that shape meant a hell of a lot of trouble.
    â€œLook, I should go. This isn’t the time or the place.”
    â€œYou’re right about that. I’ll be at the penthouse tomorrow morning and we’ll finish this.”
    â€œOh, but, the maid is going to be there.” There was just something so completely
wrong
about calling that guy a maid.
    â€œSo get rid of her. After all, I pay her salary. She’ll do what I want.”
    Doesn’t everyone?
Cassidy almost said it out loud before she left, but figured she’d done enough damage for one night.
    Tomorrow was time enough to say it.

Chapter Six

    I don’t care how it got in the paper, I want the story killed,” Cassidy said into her phone as she opened the door and waved Liam in the next morning, looking way too artfully messy with a pair of shorts hanging low on her hips and an off-the-shoulder professionally torn-and-frayed T-shirt like the chick from that eighties’ welder-dancer movie, showing way too much skin for his liking and definitely too much leg.
    On second thought, none of it was too much in the normal male-female interaction. But with
their
interaction . . . Yeah, definitely too much. He didn’t need to be any more attracted to her than he was.
    â€œDeborah, you always work miracles for my father. Can’t you do something for me? I mean, how hard is it to kill a story?” Cassidy flicked the newspaper she was carrying and Liam got a glimpse of a large photo of her in one hell of an evening gown.
    Okay,
that
was too much skin to be flashing around at
any
one, let alone having it plastered on the front of the society page.
    â€œBut it makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”
    Liam’s ears perked up. He’d never met a society chick who
complained
about being spoiled.
    â€œBut I didn’t say any of those things. Can I get a retraction?” She groaned. “Well how about a rebuttal?”
    â€œNever heckle the hecklers,” Liam muttered. Bryan, his movie star brother, had imparted those words of wisdom. You couldn’t win when someone started heckling. Usually, the story grew.
    She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing.
    â€œI’m just sayin,’ if you make a big deal out of something, its importance will grow. Whatever’s in that article, let it go.”
    â€œLook, Deborah, I’ll have to call you back. But please see what you can do in the interim.”
    She punched the face of her phone with her thumb. An unnecessary act, since the thing shut down with a swipe, but still, Liam could feel the anger rolling off her in waves from across the living room.
    â€œDid you have something you wanted to share?” Cassidy asked, sounding
just
like her condescending father.
    Liam had been to a few events and tradeshows where Mitchell Davenport had been the speaker. The man had an opinion on everything and his was the only one that counted. Granted, the guy
had
built an empire out of practically nothing, but he should never forget the people who’d helped him climb that ladder to success because those same people could pull that ladder out from under him.
    Ah, but what did it matter to Liam? He wasn’t—and never would be—in the same league as