Danielle Steel - Malice

“Fine,” she said icily. “When do I start?”

“After lunch. Mr. Mackenzie had a very difficult morning with no one to help him.”

“How old is Miss Waterman, by the way?” She had understood the message.

“Twenty-five, I think. Maybe twenty-six. I'm not sure. She's excellent. She's been with him for three years now.” Maybe they were having an affair, Grace decided, and they'd had a fight, and now she was out looking for another job. Anything was possible. She'd see for herself in an hour. He told her to report to Mr. Mackenzie's office at one o'clock. And when she went back to pick up her things, she told Winnie.

“How wonderful!” Winnie exclaimed generously. “I'll miss you, but what a great break for you!” Grace didn't see it that way, and she almost cried when a girl from the typing pool came to replace her. She said goodbye to the two partners she'd worked for for almost six months, and took a bag of her things up to the twenty-ninth floor to Mr. Mackenzie's office. Winnie had promised to call her that afternoon to see how it was going.

“He sounds like a jerk,” Grace had said to her under her breath, but Winnie was quick to reassure her.

“He's not. Everyone who works for him loves him.”

“I'll bet,” she said tardy, and kissed Winnie on the cheek before she left. It was like leaving home, and she was in a rotten mood when she got upstairs. She was annoyed over the high-handedness of it. And she hadn't had time for lunch, and had a terrible headache. Besides which, she really did feel like she was getting the flu from her long walk in the rain the night before. And even being shown to her new office, with a spectacular view up Park Avenue, didn't cheer her. They treated her like royalty, and three of the secretaries who worked nearby made a point of coming out to meet her. It was like a little club up there, and had she been in a better mood, she would have admitted that everyone was very pleasant.

She looked through some papers that the personnel director had left for her, and a list of instructions from her new boss, about some things he needed done that afternoon. They were mostly research calls, and some personal calls too, an appointment with his tailor, and another one for a haircut, and a reservation at ‘21’ the following night, for two people. How sexy, she complained to herself as she read the list. And then started making the phone calls.

When he came back from lunch at two-fifteen, she had made all his calls for him, finished half the research, and taken several messages. In each case, she had handled what the caller wanted from him, and he had no need to return the calls, just to know about their resolution. He was immensely surprised by her efficiency, but not nearly as much as she was when she saw him. The “old guy” she'd expected him to be was forty-two years old, tall, had broad shoulders, deep green eyes, and jet black hair with salt and pepper at the temples. He had a rugged jaw that made him look like a movie star, and he was totally without pretension. It was as though he had absolutely no idea he was even handsome. He walked in very quietly, he had had a working lunch downstairs with some of the other partners. And he was casual and friendly when he greeted her, and praised her for the work she'd done for him so quickly.

“You're as good as they said you were, Grace.” He smiled warmly at her, and she vowed instantly to resist him. She was not going to fall for his looks, or for who he was, no matter what Miss Waterman had done for him. As far as Grace was concerned, she wasn't part of the service. She was extremely formal with him, and not particularly friendly.

For the next two weeks, she made every appointment for him, both business and personal, handled all his calls, attended meetings with him and took accurate notes, and proved herself to be very near perfect.

“She's good, isn't she?” Tom Short asked possessively when he saw Mackenzie alone for a few minutes before a meeting.

“Yes,” the senior partner said cautiously, but without much zeal, and Tom noticed.

“Don't you like her?” Tom immediately sensed a hesitation.

“Honestly? No. She's disagreeable as hell, and she walks around with a broomstick up her ass all day long. She's the most uptight human being I've ever met. She makes me want to throw a bucket of water on her.”

“Grace?” Her old boss looked stunned. “She's so nice, and so easygoing.”

“Maybe she just doesn't like me. Christ, I can't wait to get Waterman back.” But four weeks later, Elizabeth Waterman delivered news that upset them both deeply. She had thought about it a great deal, but after her accident and the way people had treated her as she lay in the subway with a broken hip and leg, she had decided to leave New York for good when she recuperated, and go back to Florida where she came from.

“I suspect this isn't good news for either of us,” Charles Mackenzie said to Grace honestly after he heard. For six weeks, Grace had done an impeccable job for him, and she'd barely said a civil word to him. He had been nothing but friendly with her, and accommodating, but each time she saw him, and noticed again how good-looking he was, and how at ease he was with her and everyone, she hated him all the more. She had convinced herself that she knew his type, he was just waiting for an opportunity to pounce on her and harass her sexually, just like Bob Swanson had done, and she wasn't going to take it. Never again. And certainly not from him. Week after week she saw the women come into St. Andrew's and it reminded her again and again of how rotten men were, how dangerous, and how much damage it could do if you let yourself trust them.

“You're not happy here, are you, Grace?” Charles Mackenzie asked her in a kind tone finally, and she sat noticing how green his eyes were again, reminding herself of how many women he had probably had fail all over him in his life, including Elizabeth Waterman, and God alone knew how many others.

“I'm probably not the right secretary for you,” she said quietly. “I don't have the experience you need. I've never worked in a law firm like this before, or for anyone as important.” He smiled at what she said, but she looked as tense as ever.

“What did you do before this?” He had forgotten.

“I worked in a modeling agency for two years,” she said, wondering what he was after. Maybe he was going to strike now. He would eventually. They all did.

“As a model?” he asked, not surprised, but she shook her head in answer.

“No, as a secretary.”

“It must have been a lot more interesting than a law firm. My job isn't exactly exciting.” He smiled and looked surprisingly young. She knew he'd been married to a well-known actress and they'd never had children. He had been divorced for two years, and according to most reports, he dated a lot of women. She had certainly made plenty of dinner reservations for him, but not all were with women. Some were with his partners and clients.

“Most jobs aren't very interesting,” Grace said sensibly, surprised that he was willing to spend so much time talking to her. “Mine at the agency wasn't either. Actually,” she said, thinking about it, “I like this better. The people here are a lot nicer.”

“It's just me, then,” he said almost sadly, as though she had hurt his feelings.

“What do you mean?” She didn't understand him.

“Well, it's obvious you're not enjoying your work, and if you like the law firm, then it must be me. I get the feeling you hate working for me, to be honest with you, Grace. I feel like I make you miserable every time I walk into the office.” She flushed in embarrassment as he said it.

“No … I … I'm really sorry … I didn't mean to give you that impression …”