Gloria's Revenge (13 page)

Kevin’s glazed eyes met mine. “But now, we’ll have nothing.”

“That’s not true. We’ll always have each other. We both have money now. We’ll build something new. Hey, I’m out of a job anyway, tomorrow.”

“But we’ll always be on the run. That will never stop.”

I squeezed his hand. “As long as I run with you, there’s always tomorrow.” My own eyes grew teary. “I mean that, Kev.”

“Thanks, Glorious.” He gave me another hug. We stayed in that embrace for a long minute, until Kevin said, “Come on, let me help you pack.”

“Where are we going?”

“For now, Canada. Then we’ll figure it out from there.”

That meant packing some warm clothes. “What time does the plane leave?”

“At six.”

A wave of panic washed over me. “Kev, that’s too early. The gala is tonight. I can’t miss it. I can’t let everyone down, especially those young girls who’ve been flown in from all over the country to meet me.”

“Glorious, its just too fucking dangerous. You’re risking your life.”

I crossed my arms across my chest and looked him straight in the eye. “There’s no negotiation. I’m not going.”

Kevin knew I could be stubborn. There was no changing my mind.

He blew out a defeated puff of air. “Fuck. Show me what you’re wearing tonight.”

Chapter 13

A
s an extra precaution, we instructed the doorman on duty to tell anyone who came by looking for us that we weren’t in. At exactly five o’clock, we met Tyrone at the back entrance. Kevin was dressed in a slick black tux and sneakers, and me in a stunning one-shoulder gown in signature Gloria’s Secret pink; it was custom-made by a local upcoming designer, who owed her success to the Girls Like Us mentoring program. Beneath my gown, I had on a strapless pink satin bra and a matching garter that held up Madame Paulette’s lucky silk stockings. I needed all the luck I could get tonight.

Kevin and I sidled into the Range Rover as Tyrone loaded our luggage into the trunk. Sensing our high level of stress, he refrained from asking any questions and silently got behind the wheel. At nine p.m., Kevin and I would be on the corporate jet, secretly heading off to Canada and a new chapter in our broken lives. Gazing down at the bandage that still covered my finger, I felt a deep pang of sadness for everything and everyone I would be leaving behind. In my heart, I longed to say good-bye to all my employees. And to Jaime Zander.

The Beverly Hilton Hotel was a short ten-minute drive from my condo, straight down Wilshire Boulevard, but with the onset of rush hour traffic it took us twice that long. Tyrone dropped us at the front entrance where paparazzi were already gathered. In addition to Oprah hosting the gala, Carrie Underwood was performing, “Nobody Ever Told You,” her song about girl power. Numerous celebrities and philanthropists were expected to attend. My charitable organization was one of the most respected in Tinseltown.

Kevin immediately got to work, interacting with the paparazzi and checking the list of VIPs while I was escorted to a small room behind the ballroom stage for hair and makeup. Seated in front of a lit up mirror, I watched as the make up artist and hair stylist, whom we used regularly for our Gloria’s Secret catalogue shoots, transformed me into a goddess. I told them I wanted minimal makeup and a simple French braid. Magically, they were able to make the stress I wore on my face go away. As I studied my red-lipped reflection, I saw the image of a young girl with long blond braids pop up next to me in the mirror. Her eyes, one blue, the other brown, gazed proudly at the woman she had become. I held back tears so as not to ruin my eye makeup and wondered if, in reality, I had let the little girl down.

A loud knock at the door made me jump. I was very much on edge, fearing that Boris Borofsky would show up any minute. The words, “Nobody steals from Boris Borofsky,” flew into my head as I relived the memory of that horrible night. It had caused me nightmares my entire adult life, and now that nightmare was a reality.

To my relief, it was just Kevin. He was wearing a headset as he always did at big events to communicate with his team. He looked me over from head to toe with a smile of approval.

“You look fabulous, Glorious. The ballroom’s practically filled up, so we should probably take seats at our table.”

Thanking the stylists, I hooked my arm into Kevin’s and let him escort me to our front row table. My eyes drank in the beauty of the vast room, an elegant spectacle of crystal chandeliers and soaring vases of fragrant white roses—Madame Paulette’s favorite—on every linen-covered table.

Victor, in a traditional tux, was already seated at the table, with a bourbon, along with several key Gloria’s Secret executives. There were two empty seats to the right of him and two to the left. He rose and pulled out the seat on the right that was closest to him, signaling where he wanted me to sit. As much as I didn’t want to be anywhere close to the swine, I had no choice. Kevin took the seat next to mine, but just as soon as he sat down, he jumped up to work the room. I’m sure one of the other two seats was for the perpetually late Vivien, but wondered who would occupy the last remaining seat. A terrifying thought crossed my mind—had Victor invited Boris to the gala? I shivered.

Victor’s steely eyes bore into mine. “So, Gloria, where the hell did you disappear to this afternoon? I tried to reach you everywhere.”

“I had a sudden medical emergency.” That wasn’t far from the truth. “I’m sorry. I should have let you know.”

His eyes flared with fury. “You cost me a valuable piece of business. Boris was furious with you. He wants nothing to do with Gloria’s Secret.”

I inwardly sighed with relief. That meant there was no way Boris would be showing up here and sitting at our table.

Victor chugged his drink. “You’re going to pay for that, Gloria.”

I scoffed at him. “Haven’t I already? Why didn’t you tell me you secretly called a Board meeting and convinced them to ask for my resignation tomorrow?”

“I don’t report to you, Gloria.” His voice was a blend of ice and contempt.

“And I don’t report to you, Victor. I quit.”

Victor gaped, but before he could utter a word, a new voice entered the conversation.

“Hello, Daddy.” It was Vivien. Dressed in a gold lamé, body-hugging halter dress, that barely covered her melon-sized boobs, and matching six-inch heels, she slithered up to the table. My blood froze over. Like a piece of jewelry, she was dangling on the arm of a man who made my heart stop—Jaime Zander, devastatingly handsome in an elegant tuxedo.

A wicked predatory smile that was meant for me snaked across her over made-up face. Jaime-is-mine was written all over it. My chest tightened painfully.

Jaime’s denim blue eyes made contact with mine. I swear, even though he was with Vivien, they lusted only for me. In my highly anxious state, it was probably just my mind playing tricks on me. Or perhaps the bastard was back to playing his cruel head games. One thing, however, couldn’t be surer—the physical effect this gorgeous man was having on me. As much as I loathed him, he still took my breath away. My shredded heart hammered against my gown. I should have known he’d be here with Vivien. I took a sip of wine and forced it past the painful lump in my throat.

“Good to see you, Gloria. Congratulations on your award,” he said as he pulled out the empty chair next to a shocked Victor for Vivien. There was tension in his voice.

“Thank you,” I spluttered as he lowered himself into the last remaining chair. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with, his presence was making me sick to my stomach. I imbibed another long swig of wine. Jaime’s eyes lingered on my bandaged finger where his ring had once been.

I stole a glance at Victor. He couldn’t get his gunmetal eyes off Jaime. He was seething. I knew how much he hated Jaime; he couldn’t bear to share the same air as him.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Zander?” he hissed.

“Oh, Daddy…” chimed in Vivien.

“Shut up, Vivien.” Fury fueled his voice.

Fearlessly, Jaime met Victor’s blazing gaze. “I wouldn’t miss this event for the world.”

He had come here for me?

“And when you’re lovely daughter invited me, I couldn’t say no, especially after the great stock tip she gave me.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

A smug smile curled on Jaime’s lush lips. “Victor, at Vivien’s suggestion, I’m thinking of buying 50,000 shares of Gloria’s Secret stock. We’ll get richer together…so I hear.”

While Vivien beamed proudly, Victor arched his brows high, causing deep frown lines to set into his forehead. “What the hell did she tell you?” His voice was unusually shaky.

Jaime smiled that dazzling cocky smile. “These two gentlemen can tell you better than I can.”

Marching up to us were two burly men, dressed in matching black suits and ties. With their Mr. Clean physiques and identical crew cuts, they looked like they could have been separated at birth. Victor’s face blanched.

“Are you Victor Holden?” asked one of the men.

“Yes. I demand to know what this is all about.”

“Agents Marshall and Andrews from the FBI,” said the other man dryly. In unison, they dug into their inner jacket pockets and whipped out badges.

I exchanged a wide-eyed look with Jaime.

“Victor Holden, you’re under arrest for alleged insider trading and stock manipulation.” The agent named Marshall issued a warrant and read him his rights.

Victor sprung to his feet. “What are you talking about? You can’t prove a thing.”

The agent named Andrews dipped a hand into his slacks pocket and pulled out a small recording device. He hit play.

The raspy voice on the machine was familiar. Vivien’s. There was chatter and music in the background. I recognized the song—“Undercover Lover.” It had ironically been playing at the Walden Hotel bar when I’d caught Jaime kissing Vivien the first time.

Vivien: “I want to tell you a secret, doll boy.”

Jaime: “Babe, I love secrets.”

Vivien: “Okay, you’ve got to promise that you never heard this from me.”

Jaime: “Promise.”

Vivien: “Remember what I told you at the Touch party? Well, it’s true. Daddy’s going to short Gloria’s Secret, and he’s telling all his big investor friends to do the same. The stock is going to drop from an all time high to an all time low and then once that hot line of sex toys is introduced, they’re going to buy back all their shares and make a fucking fortune when the stock soars.”

Jaime: “When is he going to do that?”

Vivien: “Sometime next week. I’ll let you know. You should buy some shares when the price drops.”

My eyes, round as saucers, met Jaime’s as I gaped with shock. Victor clenched his fists so hard they turned white. A rush of rage bubbled inside me. The hatred I felt toward this man was immeasurable. A fierce scowl replaced my look of shock. The tape played on.

Jaime: “Thanks, Viv, for the hot tip.”

Vivien: “You owe me big time… This is what I want… mmm, you like that, don’t you?”

My blood curdled at the sound of hungry kisses and moans. They quickly came to an abrupt halt.

Jaime: “Babe, cool it. I don’t want Gloria to see us together.”

Vivien: (Cackling) “Let the cunt watch. Do exactly as I say.”

Jaime: “Lay off, Vivien!”

The wicked dominatrix persevered with her sexual assault and dirty talk, despite Jaime’s protest.

Jaime: “Shit! I’ll be right back.”

That must have been when Jaime spotted me in the lobby of The Walden.

Vivien: “You need to be punished!”

My eyes stayed fixed on Jaime while the FBI agent fast-forwarded the recording, past my tearful exchange with him while he was banging on the town car door and begging me to open it. He paused the tape and then hit play once more. Again, the sound of a chatter and music. Leona Lewis’s “Bleeding Love.” It had been playing last night at The Ivy.

Vivien: “Daddy’s plan is working. But you should wait until Friday to buy the stock.”

Jaime: “Why, babe?”

Vivien: “It’s going to go lower. Gloria’s going to be forced to resign as CEO.”

Jaime: “Who’s going to take her place?”

Vivien: “Doll boy, you’re looking right at her. Now, come to mama.”

I was shaking with fury. Agent Andrews clicked off the device, sparing me the pain of having to hear any more. “Have you heard enough, Mr. Holden?”

Victor’s face reddened with rage. Vivien, in shock, clapped a hand to her mouth. My eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them and Jaime.

“Oh Daddy, I’m so, so, sorry!” croaked Vivien, her hand still cupped over her mouth.

Victor’s lips thinned into a tight angry line and his eyes narrowed with fury. “You stupid, stupid girl. How could you confide in that asshole stepbrother of yours?”

Tears leaked from Vivien’s eyes. I glanced at Jaime. Only Mr. Cockiness could nonchalantly shrug his shoulders and roll his eyes. With all this drama and my own to unfold shortly, I seriously didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My mind was a whirling dervish of emotions—shock, rage, and apprehension. My eyes searched the crowd for Kevin. Did he know what was happening? I didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe, he was dealing with reporters, trying to prevent Victor’s arrest from disrupting the evening.

“Mr. Holden, we advise you to cooperate and not create a scene,” said Agent Andrews as he yanked Victor’s arms behind his back and handcuffed his wrists. Though still fuming, Victor quietly complied. Shocked eyeballs from other tables turned to him as he was carted away by the two agents. He shot me one last odious look. My eyes shot back a dagger.

Vivien leaped out of her seat. “Don’t take my Daddy!” she cried out. She flung herself at her father, desperately clinging to him.

Victor turned to face her, his expression glacial. “Vivien. Let. Go. Of. Me. Now!”

“Oh, Daddy!” Totally defeated, Vivien, in her skintight dress and stilettos, sagged to her knees and sobbed. Her wretched eyes gazed up at Jaime and me. “You fuckers!” she shrieked as her father disappeared into the crowd.

Two husky security guards came to whisk her away. Heaving with sobs, she let them drag her through the ballroom like a sack of potatoes.

I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or hate her after all she’d done to me. I wondered—was she born a bad seed or had life made her a rotten apple? In the end, I chose to believe that Vivien was as troubled as the girls who went through my mentoring program and hoped she would seek help.

While waiters came around and served the rubber chicken meal that was typical of these kind of events. Jaime Zander moved two seats over into the chair that had been formerly occupied by Victor. I instantly felt the radiating warmth of his body beside me as his muscled thigh brushed against mine. Gently, he tugged at my French braid.

“Gloria.” His sultry voice was soft. “You look stunning.”

I swallowed hard. My bare arms broke out in goose bumps. Anxiously, I turned to face him. Dressed in black tie, Mr. Elegant was sexier and more gorgeous than ever. His eyes burned into mine, and his breath heated my face.

“Do you trust me?”

I scowled. “You used me to take down Victor. And the little vixen. That’s why you wanted the Gloria’s Secret account.”

He gripped my shoulders and shook me. His voice rose an octave. “Jesus, Gloria. That is so far from the truth. If you remember, you pursued ZAP! and not the other way around.”

Suddenly, I felt three feet tall. He was right.

He looked hard into my eyes. “Gloria, the opportunity presented itself. When Vivien leaked what her father was doing at the Touch party in New York, I went straight to the FBI. They were already after him and asked me to fake a relationship with her to extract more incriminating information. I even had to wear this fucking wiretap.” He ripped open the buttons of his tux shirt, and yanked it off his beautiful chiseled chest. While I sat there wordless, he tossed it onto the table.