Danielle Steel - Malice

“You did a great job yesterday,” he praised her, looking very proper in a gray suit and a starched white shirt. He looked more like New York than LA. She had worn a pink silk dress and she had a matching sweater over her shoulders. It was a dress she had bought two years before in Chicago, and it was a little softer-looking than most of the clothes she wore to work at the law firm.

“You look very pretty today,” he said casually, and she stiffened imperceptibly, but he didn't see it. “Did you see any movie stars in the lobby last night?” And then, forgetting his remark about how she looked, she told him excitedly about the four she'd seen, and the movie that had made her laugh so hard when she watched it. For a brief instant, they were almost friends, and he sensed it. She had relaxed a little bit, which made things easier for him. It was so difficult being with her when she was so uptight, he wondered why she was like that sometimes, but he would never have dared to ask her.

“I love that movie,” he laughed, thinking about it. “I saw it three times when it first came out. I hate depressing movies.”

“So do I,” she admitted as their breakfast came. He was eating scrambled eggs and bacon, and she had oatmeal.

“You don't eat enough,” he said sounding fatherly, watching her.

“You should watch your cholesterol,” she chided, although he was very thin, but eggs and bacon were out of favor.

“Oh God, spare me. My wife was a vegetarian, and a Buddhist. All of Hollywood is. It was worth getting divorced just so I could eat cheeseburgers in peace again.” He smiled at Grace and she laughed in spite of herself.

“Were you married for a long time?”

“Long enough,” he grinned. “Seven years.” He had been divorced for two. It had cost him nearly a million dollars to get out of it, but at the time it had seemed worth it, in spite of the economic stress it had caused him. No one had snagged his heart seriously since, and the only thing he really regretted was never having children. “I was thirty-three when I married her, and at the time, I was sure that being married to Michelle Andrews was the answer to all my prayers. It turned out that being married to America's hottest movie star wasn't as easy as I thought. Those people pay a high price for celebrity. Higher than the rest of us know. The press is never kind to them, the public wants to own their souls … there's no way to survive it, except religion or drugs, and either way is not an ideal solution, as far as I'm concerned. Every time we turned around there was another headline, another scandal. It was tough to live with, and eventually it takes a toll. We're good friends now, but three years ago we weren't.” Grace knew from People magazine that she had been married twice since, to a younger rock star, and her agent. “Besides, I was too square for her. Too stiff. Too boring.” Grace suspected that he had offered his former wife the only stability she'd ever had, or would have. “What about you? Married? Engaged? Divorced seven times? How old are you anyway, I forget. Twenty-three?”

“Almost,” she blushed, “in July. And no, not married or engaged. I'm too smart for either one, thanks very much.”

“Oh sure, Grandma, give me a lecture.” He laughed and she tried not to think about how attractive he was when he did. She didn't really want to get to know him. “At twenty-two, you're too young to even go out. I hope you don't.” He was teasing but she wasn't, and he sensed that.

“I don't.”

“You don't? You're not serious?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you planning to become a nun when you grow up, after your career in a law firm?” He was amused by her now that she was opening up a little bit. She was an intriguing girl. Smart and bright, and funny when she let it show, which wasn't often.

“I have a friend who's trying to talk me into it actually.”

“Who is that? I'll have to have a talk with this friend. Nuns are completely out of style these days. Don't you know that?”

“I guess not,” Grace laughed again, “she is one. Sister Eugene. She's terrific.”

“Oh God, you're a religious fanatic. I knew it. Why am I cursed with people like you … my wife wanted me to bring the Dalai Lama over from Tibet to stay with us … you're all crazy!” He pretended to brush her away, as a waiter poured their coffee and Grace laughed at him.

“I'm not a religious fanatic, I swear. Sometimes it's appealing though. Their life is so simple.”

“And so unreal. You can help the world without giving it up,” he said solemnly. It was something he felt strongly about. He liked helping people without taking extreme positions. “Where do you know this nun from?” He was still curious and they didn't have to leave the hotel for another ten minutes.

“We work together at a place where I do volunteer work.”

“And where's that?” She saw as he talked to her that he was perfectly shaved, and everything about him was immaculate, and she tried not to notice. This was business.

“It's called St. Andrew's, on the Lower East Side. It's a home for abused women and children.”

“You work there?” He seemed surprised, there was more to her than he had suspected, even though she was young, and sometimes very crabby. He was starting to like her better.

“I do. I work there three times a week. It's an amazing place. They take in hundreds of people.”

“I never figured you for doing something like that,” he said honestly.

“Why not?” she was surprised.

“Because that's a big commitment, a lot of work. Most girls your age would rather go to the discos.”

“I've never been to one in my life.”

“I'd take you, but I'm too old, and your mother probably wouldn't want you to go with me,” he said, implying no threat at all, and for once even Grace didn't react. But she also didn't tell him she had no mother.

The limousine picked them up for their meetings a few minutes after ten. And the next day they concluded the deal, in time to fly back to New York on the nine p.m. flight, which got them back to New York at six the following morning. As they were landing he told her to take the day off. It had been a long two days, and they hadn't slept on the plane. He had worked, and she had helped him.

“Are you taking the day off?” she asked.

“I can't. I've got a meeting at ten with Arco, and I've got a lot to do. Besides, I have a partners’ lunch and there's some complaining I want to do.”

“Then I'm going to work too.”

“Don't be silly. I'll make do with Mrs, Macpherson or someone from the typing pool.”

“If you're working, so am I. I don't need a day off. I can sleep tonight.” She was very definite about it.

“The joys of youth. Are you sure?” He eyed her thoughtfully. She was becoming just what the others had said she was, loyal, hardworking, and nice to be around. It had been a long time coming.

He dropped her off at her apartment on the way home, and told her to take her time coming in, and if she changed her mind, he'd understand. But she was there before he was. She had all his notes from the plane typed up, his memos for his ten o'clock meeting on his desk, and a series of files she knew he'd want laid out. And his coffee exactly the way he liked it.

“Wow!” He smiled at her. “What did I do to deserve all this?”

“You put up with me for the past three months. I was pretty awful, and I'm sorry.” He had been a perfect gentleman in California, and she was prepared to be his friend now.

“No, you weren't. I guess I had to prove myself. We both did.” He seemed to understand it perfectly, and he was really grateful for the caliber of her work, and the minute attention she paid to detail.