30Chapter Twenty-three: Everybody Can Change
"Of course everyone knows that you are in charge. You are the CEO, the undisputed leader of this corporation. You are the brain of Tudor Estates, and all related ventures. But who is the heart?"
"I beg your pardon?" The question took the tall, red-haired young woman by surprise. Elizabeth was dining alone with Robert Cecil, her oldest and most trusted advisor. These informal dinners were useful for her leadership. They also allowed her time to relax.
The wise old man refilled her wine glass. The bottle came from his own cellar. Robert Cecil was a world-famous collector of fine wines. "At our last board meeting there was an empty chair, the one where your cousin used to sit. Nobody wants Mary to be in charge, not after the extravagant way she threw away our profits on fancy frills and benefits for the poor. And yet, her absence is noticed. Her cheerful warmth and her friendly smile are missed."
"I see." Elizabeth cooled her temper with a long, slow sip of wine. "Have you reached out to Mary with an offer? Perhaps you'd like to bring her on board in some informal capacity?"
"The decision is yours," Rober Cecil assured her. He carefully sipped his priceless wine. "I would never reach out to that woman on my own. She once claimed the very seat you now hold."
"You are very wise. And very loyal." Elizabeth let the warmth of the wine soften her mood, shifting her stern expression to a smile. "I will reach out to Mary when the time is right. I too have a heart."
The Following Sunday . . .
"That bitch is up to something."
"Mm?" Mary Stuart came awake to the sound of her boss' voice. Gruff and commanding, sending shivers down her spine. The slim, sweet-faced blonde stretched in bed, feeling bruised and sore but satisfied. All day long Marco kept her jumping through hoops, while Mary smiled and kept up a cheerful front waiting tables at the family restaurant. At night her boss became her lover, giving more pleasurable commands. But they were still commands, given gruffly in that deep voice of his that always made her nerve-ends start to tingle.
"I said that lying, two-faced, red-headed bitch is up to something." Great big muscular Marco tossed a perfumed envelope onto the pillow beside her, suspicion written clearly on his unshaven face.
"It's an invitation!" Mary sat up in bed at once, eagerly tearing open the envelope. Her sleepy green eyes sparkled with excitement. "Elizabeth is holding a masquerade ball, and she's invited both of us to come. Oh, Marco, it will be such fun!"
"You look like a kid on Christmas morning." Marco Maselli wanted to put Mary wise. Cold, ambitious Elizabeth was not to be trusted. Both of them had learned that lesson the hard way. But there was something innocent about Mary. Deep down she trusted people. She trusted him. And when she smiled up at him like that, from the rumpled bed where they'd made love all night long, Marco felt as though he just couldn't say no to her. Mary's smile melted him.
"The Masquerade Ball is a Tudor tradition!" Mary made a face at Marco. "I know Elizabeth hasn't always been very nice to us. I get it. But how can she ever change if we don't give her a chance?"
"What makes you think she can change?" Marco sat down on the bed, his great big body making the mattress sag and groan. Mary had been groaning under his weight all night long, even if she didn't look it. She looked as fresh as a daisy in the morning light.
"Everybody can change," Mary said, her soft white hand caressing Marco's unshaven cheek. "Look at me, going from boss lady at Tudor Estates to waiting on tables and loving it. I've changed. Haven't I, Marco?"
"You haven't changed a bit." Marco felt like telling Mary no, and tearing up the invitation. Instead he dragged her into his arms and pushed her beneath him on the bed. Before long he was pumping away with abandon, while Mary moaned and squealed about how strong he was.