Elise sighed, her grip tightening on her briefcase. ‘I’m not. I’ve been swamped all day. I texted you back to say so.’
Her mother sniffed. ‘You know how I feel about texts. If I wanted a text conversation with you, I would’ve initiated one.’
‘I intended to call you when I got home.’
Marsha eyed the apartment block with mild distaste. ‘Well, I’m here now.’
Elise raised her eyebrows. ‘Would you like to come in?’ she invited, torn as to whether she wanted the answer to be yes or no.
‘For a minute. I have a pressing engagement in forty-five minutes.’
Ironically, the lifts were downstairs and waiting when they walked in. Elise stepped in, conscious of her mother’s gaze, which held its usual disdain as it drifted over her. ‘Really, Elise. That grey does nothing for you. And why aren’t you wearing any make-up?’
‘I am.’ She refused to continue applying the unnecessary amount of make-up her mother had insisted she wear in the workplace.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed on her face. Thankfully, before she could respond, the lift arrived.
Elise led the way to her door, praying the visit would be quick. But when her mother refused a drink, that pang of hurt made itself very much known.
She sat down on her two-seater while her mother perched on the armchair across from her. Her Realtor had described her apartment as cute. Elise knew her parents would have other, far more unsavoury, terms for it.
‘I spoke to your grandmother today.’
Elise’s stomach dipped further. This house call wasn’t about business. ‘Right.’
‘She told me about the help she’s been giving you.’
‘Is that a problem?’
‘That my mother is helping my daughter do her job? Of course not.’ She sniffed. ‘I just wanted to make sure you understood that if any help she provides you with doesn’t reap the results the client wants, you’re the one who’ll be held responsible.’
Her heart twisted on a fresh wave of pain. ‘You don’t need to spell it out to me, Mom.’
Hazel-gold eyes the same shade as hers snapped irritation. ‘Before you act affronted, I also wanted to say I hope it works out for what you need for SNV.’
Elise’s mouth parted in surprise, but her mother wasn’t finished. ‘I was also alerted by the travel department that you’d requested details of your travel insurance.’
Her mouth snapped shut, the real reason for her mother’s visit slowly unfurling. ‘Yes. I’m accompanying Al—Mr Aguilar to Kyoto tomorrow.’
The flash of interest in her mother’s eyes mildly sickened Elise. ‘I thought so. This is excellent news. He obviously thinks very highly of you.’
‘Obviously.’
Marsha’s gaze hardened. ‘Watch your tone, young lady.’
‘Prove to me that you didn’t drive all the way downtown to dispense the motherly advice I think is coming my way, and I will.’
Her mother stared at her for a moment before she shook her head. ‘I don’t understand you. You’ve had so many opportunities handed to you. And every single time you’ve turned your nose up at it.’
‘Say what you came to say, Mom. Or prove me wrong.’
Her mother’s jaw tightened. ‘What is so wrong with telling you to make the most of this opportunity?’
Pain pierced her. ‘The same way you pushed Brian Grey’s “opportunity” on me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. That was different.’
‘How, Mom? How was it different?’ she demanded.
‘For starters, Alejandro Aguilar is one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. He already sees you as a worthy businesswoman, thanks to your association with Jameson. Capitalise on that and you could become one of the most powerful and iconic women in the world. Of course, I would recommend a trip to a stylist and more care with your hair, but these things can be achieved with a single phone call. Think of what that could mean for Jameson PR. Think of what it could mean for you!’
Blind, foolish tears rushed into Elise’s eyes. ‘Stop, Mom. Please, just stop.’
‘Why? Where’s the harm—’
‘The harm is that I’m not that kind of woman! I won’t sleep with a man just to get ahead. Alejandro already suspects I’m tarred with the famous Jameson brush!’
Fury surged into her mother’s face. But Elise wasn’t afraid. Marsha Jameson’s fury was the quiet, lethal type. She wasn’t prone to ranting or raving. She merely exuded icy rage until the other party deigned to grovel in apology.
But Elise wasn’t in the mood to apologise. That need had diminished significantly over the years. Which was not to say the pain that ravaged her insides had abated one iota. In direct contrast to her mother’s silent condemnation, her pain howled, long and vicious and deep.
So deep, she barely acknowledged her mother’s icy exit.
Elise only rose when she realised her front door had been left wide open. Evidently, Marsha Jameson’s anger had no room to accommodate thoughts of her daughter’s safety.
After locking the door, Elise went into her bedroom and pulled out her suitcase. The effort not to succumb to tears for the second night in a row nearly failed as she packed. She’d shed enough tears, thanks to fate’s decision over her parentage. She was in grave danger of becoming pathetic.
Straightening her spine, she glanced down at the contents of her suitcase. Seeing the greys and blacks tucked inside, she firmed her lips, determinedly zipped the case shut, and tugged it to the front door.
On impulse she pulled out an old, slightly battered flat case. Then immediately swallowed a sob. Adding it to her suitcase, she showered and went to bed. When a tear slipped free, she reassured herself it was for the dream she’d pushed to the back of her life.
A dream that perhaps wouldn’t remain a dream for long.
THE RIDE TO Midway International Airport at what felt like the crack of dawn was non-eventful. Unlike the thumping of her heart as the limo Alejandro had sent for her stopped alongside a huge gleaming white private jet with the SNV logo displayed discreetly on the tail.
‘Mr Aguilar’s already on board, ma’am. Your luggage will be taken care of.’ The impeccably uniformed driver doffed his cap after he helped her out.
As she crossed the Tarmac and mounted the steps, her mother’s words filtered, unbidden, into her mind. Alejandro indeed commanded a powerful top step on the world stage. Thus far, she’d only experienced him in the environs of his company and very briefly at a dinner that only lasted a few hours.
The swiftness with which he’d secured an audience with Kenzo Ishikawa and started a different set of balls rolling in Kyoto had amazed her yesterday. Stepping into the plane and seeing Alejandro seated at a large conference table, a pile of documents at his elbow, while the crew buzzed around in preparation for the flight, she was suddenly struck by the sheer power he wielded.
Power her mother wanted Elise to whore herself to achieve a slice of.
The brightness of the morning dimmed as despair and desolation threatened to sink deeper into her.
‘The quicker you find a seat, the quicker we can take off, Elise.’
She