Chapter Four

“My God, Maggie.” Katie Lloyd’s large brown eyes were bigger than Maggie had ever seen them. “You actually took the job from Joe?”

“Yep.” Maggie took a swig of wine, contemplated chugging the whole damn thing. “I signed the contract this afternoon and sent it back by courier. As of that signature, I work with the asshole.”

“And how was it seeing him again?” Reena Mackay’s soft voice was cautious.

Maggie shrugged, trying to look uncaring. “OK. Fine. No big deal.”

“Yeah?” Mia Ferris asked, bringing another bottle of wine from her kitchen. “You telling us the truth now?”

“Uh-huh.”

They looked at Maggie and then at each other, knowing full well that she was lying. Joe Carlisle had been the first man that she’d ever really loved – she’d let him in in a way that she’d never done with any man ever before. When she’d discovered his cheating, Maggie had been beyond devastated.

Not that she’d ever said so, of course. But since losing Joe two years earlier, Maggie had become tougher and more closed off, more emotionally guarded. She’d thrown all her rage into her work, and used her sculpting as a way to keep all those feelings clenched tight in her hands.

It was this laser-sharp focus which made her an amazing sculptor, and really made her work take off over these past two years. It was this desire for control that demanded that she keep her passion within limits and lines. Thanks to Joe, she’d discovered the secret of harnessing her huge, overwhelming emotions, and channeling them into clay, metal, stone. Capturing something so fluid and unpredictable in something solid and permanent was a gift, and she had been astounded that people actually wanted to buy her frozen passion.

Letting go and trusting Joe had been a huge risk for her, a show of faith in him that he’d never fully understood and certainly never appreciated. He’d treated it so casually, like her opening up and surrendering to him was nothing, just nothing at all. When she’d caught him in bed with that waitress from his restaurant, he’d been cruel and dismissive of her distress.

Maggie had ended it with him on the spot and never looked back, and her friends knew that she hated him. She also still loved him, and it was that horrible and toxic combination of emotions that was going to make the next six months hard on her… whether she admitted it or not.

“So,” Mia said. “You go back tomorrow and talk about the job?”

“Yeah.” Maggie poured some more wine; her friends quietly noted it was her third glass, and they were all still on their first. “At his new place.”

“What’s it like?” Reena asked.

“Huge. Luxurious. Fucking crazy expensive. I mean, it’s still a construction site, but I can tell how it’ll look.” She drank again. “The whole ceiling is glass.”

“Really?” Mia said, interested despite herself. “That sounds gorgeous.”

“It is,” Maggie said. “He always said he wanted the most visually stunning restaurant in the state, and I guess the fucker will get what he wanted. He always does, doesn’t he?”

“Including you?” Katie asked.

Maggie’s green eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Will he get you?” Katie held her gaze, needing to ask the question. “I mean, he’s been after you to do this job for almost a year, and you said it’d never happen…”

“Things have changed,” Maggie said. “My Mom needs this.”

“I know,” Katie said. “I get that. But the reason for taking the commission doesn’t matter now, does it? The fact is that Joe is used to buying anything and anyone that he wants, and I’m guessing that in his opinion, he’s just bought you. I mean, from his point of view – because he has no clue about your motivations – you gave in, didn't you?”

Maggie was silent, thinking about that. Yeah, it was true that Joe was a guy who always got everything handed to him on a silver platter. Born to fabulously wealthy parents, he’d attended private schools, vacationed at one of the family homes in Switzerland, Hawaii, France, and Thailand, been given extravagant gifts. He’d gone to Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, and had trained with Thomas Keller at The French Laundry, Dan Barber at Blue Hill, and Tom Colicchio at Craft. His parents knew each of these world-famous chefs personally, so getting their entitled kid into their restaurants to learn from the best wasn’t an impossible feat. It wasn’t even a mildly challenging one.

His cooking ability wasn’t fake though, she knew that, and she’d seen firsthand his drive and passion in the kitchen. There were some things that money simply couldn’t buy, and honest talent was one of them. But still, Joe had never totally shaken his pampered, privileged upbringing in so many ways, and one major way was how he treated people.

In his eyes, everyone had a price and he just had to find it, pay it, get what he wanted, move onto the next thing his foolish and fickle heart desired. The world was his playground and his oyster – and women were there for him to enjoy, use, discard.

Maggie’s fatal mistake had been to think that he’d thought of her differently. She’d truly believed that when Joe had looked at her, he'd seen her, as a person, as a whole person. Not a commodity, not an asset. Certainly not a minor distraction in his bed. When he’d told her that he cared about her, she’d believed him. And God, how she’d loved him, and when she thought about how she’d lowered her defenses and walls, let him in, let him see her heart… it all made her squirm with humiliation now.

Never again do you let him see you honest and open. This man can still hurt you, and you know it. Finish the job, help Mom, and get out in one piece. You can do this.