She was halfway to her room when Linda Vasquez stepped out of a doorway. The girl had traded the bikini for a skin-tight dress of crimson silk and her sultry smile for a grimace of distaste.
‘In the future,’ she said coldly, ‘you are to use the service staircase on your day off.’
Arden smiled. ‘In the future,’ she said pleasantly, ‘you can go straight to hell.’
It was, she thought, the best possible exit line.
Pride made her want to return to the same San José hotel in which she’d roomed when she’d worked for McCann, Flint, Emerson, but logic advised against it. The hotel was expensive and her funds were limited. There was no reason to think she’d have to stay very long, but there was no sense in squandering her money, either. She asked Pablo to recommend a hotel.
‘Somewhere clean and inexpensive,’ she said.
He looked at her in the mirror, his eyes filled with questions, but he asked none of them.
‘Certainly, señorita. I can take you to such a place.’
The inn he took her to was both clean and cheap. It was also threadbare and depressing, but it would do. How long could it take to settle things with her former boss?
She went to the office unannounced, hoping the element of surprise would give her an advantage. But the only person she surprised was Julie Squires.
‘Mr Lithgow’s not coming in today,’ Julie said, once she got over the shock of seeing Arden. She leaned forward. ‘What happened to you?’ she whispered. ‘You just vanished into thin air!’
‘Well,’ Arden said politely, ‘I’m back now. What time will Lithgow be in tomorrow? I’d like to see him as early as possible.’
The next morning, Lithgow sat behind his oversized desk, his face set in stern lines, ready for her.
‘I’ve no idea what you expect to accomplish by this visit, Miss Miller. Let me assure you that—’
‘You owe me,’ she said gently.
He turned pale, which almost made her laugh, and she let the seconds slip by before she went on.
‘You owe me, Mr Lithgow—and you’ll either give me what I want, or I’ll
make so much trouble that you’ll wish you’d never been born’
His pallor became more pronounced. Tiny beads of sweat welled on his shiny forehead.
‘You can’t get away with this,’ he whispered.
Arden smiled. ‘I want my severance pay,’ she said, ticking her demands off on her fingers, ‘and a letter of reference—’
Lithgow fell back in his chair. ‘What?’
‘And my ticket home,’ she added, enjoying every moment of his panic. Her smile faded. ‘And I want them immediately.’
‘Of course,’ he said, his relief visible in the spots of colour that suddenly rose to his cheeks. ‘Of course!’
Arden sat down in the chair opposite his desk, the one where she’d so often taken dictation. She watched as he snatched up the phone and barked out orders to Julie. It delighted her to see how easily she’d frightened him. Men like Lithgow expected to have the upper hand with women. They preyed on a woman’s docility and accommodating nature—but if a woman wasn’t docile, if she fought for what was rightly hers, they were lost.
She had known that once, used it when rich, spoiled young men had tried to make her life miserable back in Greenfield. But Edgar Lithgow, who’d seemed the very embodiment of morality and propriety, had caught her off guard that night in her hotel room.
Arden shifted in her seat. She’d been caught off guard by Conor, as well, the times he’d taken her in his arms, the times she’d responded to his kisses. The memory was humiliating. Why had she let him make such a fool of her?
‘I’ve made all the arrangements, Miss Miller.’ She looked up. Lithgow was smiling brightly. ‘You wanted a letter of reference, an airline ticket, and your severance pay.’
‘Yes. All the things you surely meant to give me before you went off on your trip a few weeks ago, Mr Lithgow, isn’t that right?’
He blinked. ‘I assure you, I thought everything was taken care of before I left, but—’ He spread his hands. ‘A regrettable error.’