Fortune Is a Woman by Francine Saint Marie Read Free Book Online Page A

without saying hi, and shuffled the papers on her desk for an hour.
    _____
     
    “But you can’t be serious.”
    “It’s too much for me right now. I need time to be with Dickie. He’s…it’s not…it’s bad.”
    Temporarily step down as president. Lydia couldn’t believe it. “Paula, you’ve notified the board?”
    “Not yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
    “With me? Why?”
    “Tell me about Venus Angelo, first.”
    Lydia stiffened. “Tell you what?” she asked defensively. “I miss my brilliant assistant. I stopped in to say hello. I do that now and–”
    “Beaumont, let me see your eyes when you talk to me.”
    Lydia lifted her head.
    “Watch yourself, President Beaumont. Everybody else is.”
    “Who is?”
    “The board. It’s a gimmee on my word so keep your nose clean.”
    Lydia went to the bar and picked up a glass and, thinking better of it, put it back on the shelf. “I couldn’t do it without my former assistant.”
    Paula sat at her desk, put her glasses on and studied Lydia through them. Presently she replied. “I doubt the integrity of that claim.”
    Lydia dropped herself into the chair opposite her. She was tired today. Very tired of Soloman-Schmitt. She had an urge to go home and pull a Rip Van Winkle. “Why would they select me, anyway?” she asked. “Remember Jane Doe? I’m damaged goods.”
    Paula clenched her jaw. “That’s forgotten, Beaumont.” (She’d fire Angelo if she absolutely had to.) “Besides, you married the woman. Perfectly respectable conclusion.” (But once Beaumont held the reins then the power was all hers.) “Legal and legitimate anywhere in the civilized world.” (Hers to lose. And then what?) “Is this what it looks like, Beaumont?”
    “What does it look like for godsakes?”
    “I’m not qualified to say. What does it look like to Dr. Kristenson?”
    “Paula Treadwell…don’t make me say it’s none of your business. And don’t make me have to hear myself repeating myself. I’ve told you before that I do not and never will cheat on Helaine.” And then she said something she had never uttered before. “The end.”
    Paula took her glasses off and laid them on the desk. She was trying not to smile at that. “Excellent, Beaumont. Now go home, get laid, be content and leave Ms. Angelo to her own destiny. Yours imminently awaits your attention.” She picked up her glasses again and turned her attention to the numbers streaming across her computer screen. “So begin posturing for it right now…and have a nice day.”
    _____
     
    Venus did not remain flattered by Paula Treadwell’s attentions for very long. When Paula returned later that afternoon she brought with her both tricks and treats, and it was, at last then, that Venus recognized her for the witch she was rumored to be. Oh, that she definitely was.
    “And I prefer that VP Beaumont never know about this conversation,” Paula warned, preparing to leave. “Ideally I’d have your new office situated on the moon, but I fear that wouldn’t be enough of an obstacle, considering how frequently she visits there.” Paula hesitated at the door. She searched Venus’ face. It was blank. “Enjoy your day, Angelo,” she cast over her shoulder.
    “Thank you again, Ms. Treadwell.”
    “You’re welcome, I’m sure.”
    (Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ms. Treadwell. May I have another? Kick that is.)
    Paula was giving her a private office. More money. More duties, too, since apparently she didn’t have enough already to keep her busy. Venus had suspected she was in for it when Paula had begun referring to Lydia as “the Duchess of Valentine,” used here as an unnecessarily salacious comparison to the very able, yet most unfortunate Cesare Borgia, the Duke of Valentine. This had made Venus visibly cringe.
    “If you love the woman,” Paula then stated, “stand down. Don’t be the cause of her ruin.” She had rightly surmised that there would be no response to that and