really didn’t want to work for her…lover, baby daddy, boyfriend? None of the labels felt complete, but she didn’t tax her brain trying to find the right one.
Instead, she focused on breakfast after fighting her morning round of nausea. By eleven, she was showered and dressed, sitting at the computer to work on one of the assignments from the temp agency. It was mindless transcription, and she slipped into a trance induced by the droning voice of the man detailing profit-and-loss reports for the quarter.
The doorbell ringing jerked her out of her reverie and made her spill her bottle of water when she accidentally hit it with her elbow. “Just a second,” she called, mopping up the mess as best she could with a handful of tissue before heading to the door.
Her earlier queasiness returned with a vengeance when she saw Whitney standing on her doorstep. Sondra thought about slamming the door in her face, but decided not to do so. What would be the point? The other woman clearly wanted a confrontation, and if she didn’t get it now, she would persist until she did.
Pushing the door toward the jamb, she didn’t bother to lock up as she turned to watch Whitney moving through her apartment with a disdainful eye. It had to be an affectation, because the place was elegant. Sondra probably could have lived in the Taj Mahal, and Mother Jacobi would have found it distasteful just from her presence.
“You must be quite pleased with the results of your little trap.”
Sondra took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Jacobi.”
Whitney arched a perfectly dyed brow. “Of course you don’t. A girl like you just happens to get pregnant by the heir to billions of dollars and the CEO of one of the most powerful companies in the world? What a convenient accident.”
She straightened her spine. “You can believe what you like. I have no need to defend my actions.”
“You come from trash, so you’re bound to be trash. With your mother as an example, how could you turn out any different? It was inevitable you would use your body to gain advantage.” Whitney sneered. “I am surprised you succeeded, of course. Jake is usually much more selective in his partners. Tall, blonde, slender, and—”
“White,” she finished with a bite. “I guess he’s more like his father than you expected, huh?”
Her mouth tightened. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I heard you and Eleanor discussing ways to get him to marry her. Your secret about your husband preferring the…what did you say…oh, yes, the ethnic women in your employment isn’t so secret now.”
The older woman was tense for a moment, but then shrugged. “I don’t care if you tell the world about his indiscretions. I’m the victim of his infidelity.”
Sondra nodded. “Yes, I suppose so, and I have no intention of telling anyone anything.”
“For a price,” mocked Whitney.
Sondra shook her head. “I don’t want your money. I just want you to accept that Jake loves me, and we’re together.”
She snorted. “He can’t possibly love someone like you. It’s the novelty. Bluntly speaking, you aren’t good enough to be his mistress on the side, let alone his partner. You certainly are not acceptable to be the mother of the next Whitcomb and Jacobi heir.”
Knowing how she felt was oddly liberating. Of course she had known before, but hearing the blunt confirmation helped Sondra realize she didn’t care what the other woman thought. She just hoped Jake could accept that. “You’ve said what you came to say, so please leave my apartment now, Mrs. Jacobi.”
“I’m not through yet, so I’ll be staying in my son’s apartment for a bit longer.” Looking as though she was facing something unspeakably filthy, Whitney perched on the arm of the overstuffed loveseat to extract something from her purse. “There’s only one way to deal with a woman like you.”
“Keep your opinions to yourself and pretend like we can get along
Instead, she focused on breakfast after fighting her morning round of nausea. By eleven, she was showered and dressed, sitting at the computer to work on one of the assignments from the temp agency. It was mindless transcription, and she slipped into a trance induced by the droning voice of the man detailing profit-and-loss reports for the quarter.
The doorbell ringing jerked her out of her reverie and made her spill her bottle of water when she accidentally hit it with her elbow. “Just a second,” she called, mopping up the mess as best she could with a handful of tissue before heading to the door.
Her earlier queasiness returned with a vengeance when she saw Whitney standing on her doorstep. Sondra thought about slamming the door in her face, but decided not to do so. What would be the point? The other woman clearly wanted a confrontation, and if she didn’t get it now, she would persist until she did.
Pushing the door toward the jamb, she didn’t bother to lock up as she turned to watch Whitney moving through her apartment with a disdainful eye. It had to be an affectation, because the place was elegant. Sondra probably could have lived in the Taj Mahal, and Mother Jacobi would have found it distasteful just from her presence.
“You must be quite pleased with the results of your little trap.”
Sondra took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Jacobi.”
Whitney arched a perfectly dyed brow. “Of course you don’t. A girl like you just happens to get pregnant by the heir to billions of dollars and the CEO of one of the most powerful companies in the world? What a convenient accident.”
She straightened her spine. “You can believe what you like. I have no need to defend my actions.”
“You come from trash, so you’re bound to be trash. With your mother as an example, how could you turn out any different? It was inevitable you would use your body to gain advantage.” Whitney sneered. “I am surprised you succeeded, of course. Jake is usually much more selective in his partners. Tall, blonde, slender, and—”
“White,” she finished with a bite. “I guess he’s more like his father than you expected, huh?”
Her mouth tightened. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I heard you and Eleanor discussing ways to get him to marry her. Your secret about your husband preferring the…what did you say…oh, yes, the ethnic women in your employment isn’t so secret now.”
The older woman was tense for a moment, but then shrugged. “I don’t care if you tell the world about his indiscretions. I’m the victim of his infidelity.”
Sondra nodded. “Yes, I suppose so, and I have no intention of telling anyone anything.”
“For a price,” mocked Whitney.
Sondra shook her head. “I don’t want your money. I just want you to accept that Jake loves me, and we’re together.”
She snorted. “He can’t possibly love someone like you. It’s the novelty. Bluntly speaking, you aren’t good enough to be his mistress on the side, let alone his partner. You certainly are not acceptable to be the mother of the next Whitcomb and Jacobi heir.”
Knowing how she felt was oddly liberating. Of course she had known before, but hearing the blunt confirmation helped Sondra realize she didn’t care what the other woman thought. She just hoped Jake could accept that. “You’ve said what you came to say, so please leave my apartment now, Mrs. Jacobi.”
“I’m not through yet, so I’ll be staying in my son’s apartment for a bit longer.” Looking as though she was facing something unspeakably filthy, Whitney perched on the arm of the overstuffed loveseat to extract something from her purse. “There’s only one way to deal with a woman like you.”
“Keep your opinions to yourself and pretend like we can get along
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