Part 2

Marriage by Design: A Novel
by Lynn Michaels

(Page 2 of 2)

"Typing my letter of resignation." Mia pulled out the keyboard tray, shook the wireless mouse to clear the Colin Farrell screen saver from the flat screen monitor of her PC and glanced at her cousin. "I'll drop it off on our way to lunch. Are we eating in or going out?"

"Neither." Robin pushed off her board. "I just remembered I made an appointment to have bamboo shoots shoved under my fingernails."

"Coward." Mia snorted and started typing. "Some friend you are."

"This isn't about friendship, mighty mite," Robin replied. "This is about business and blood, which happen to be the same thing if your name is Savard. Love you, cuz, but I want to keep my job."

"What makes you think Lucien will fire you if I quit?"

"He fired my dad, his own brother, last year. He fired the whole accounting department twice." Robin perched on the corner of her desk and eyed her soberly. "One of these days, Mia, he could mean it."

"He never means it. He's fired the design staff a dozen times."

"He's never fired you."

"He doesn't dare. I'm the baby. Mother would kill him."

"If you're still alive later, call me." Robin stood up and kissed the top of her head. "Give me ten minutes to get out of the building."

"Hurry, Chicken Little. The sky is falling."

"Cluck, cluck." Robin grinned and strolled out of her office.

Mia shut and locked the door. The front wall of her office was glass. So was the front wall of the design department across the hall. Anyone could see her-Jordan, for instance, her best friend in the design department, the biggest nosey-pocus in the entire Savard Building, who occupied the second cubicle on the left-but Mia didn't care who saw her, so long as no one could hear her.

She reached for the phone and placed a conference call to her sister, Jenna, in LA and her brother, Luke, in New York. Jenna, the overachieving middle child, ran the Savard's boutique on Rodeo Drive, Luke the Fifth Avenue showroom. They'd both fled as far away from Lucien as they could without jumping into an ocean.

"Well?" Jenna demanded, her voice hollow on the speakerphone. "Did he agree to move you to the trousseau line?"

"No. He said absolutely not, so I quit. I spoke the words. I said, 'I quit.' He asked me if I was coming to dinner tonight."

"It was worth a shot," Jenna said. "Tell us what he said."

"Exactly," Luke said. "Word for word."

Mia told them. Exactly, word for word. When she finished, Jenna said, "You should've slammed the door on your way out."

"I thought about it," Mia said. "But I'm not you."

Jenna was the Queen of Slamming, Banging and Breaking Things, a talent she'd inherited from their father. Jenna once threw a lunch tray at Lucien in the employee cafeteria. It missed his head but drenched him in chili mac and peach cobbler. The Chili Mac Skirmish was considered one of the turning point battles of the Sibling Wars.

"Have you written your resignation letter?" Luke asked.

"Yes." Mia read from the screen: "Dear Dad, I quit. Love, Mia."

"Short, sweet and to the point," Luke said. "Sign it and deliver it."

"I'm going to, on my way to lunch," Mia said, and hit Print.

She folded her resignation into a pale mauve envelope with Savard Creations, 4700 Ward Parkway, Kansas City, Missouri, 64111, scripted in dark burgundy ink in the upper left corner, licked the flap shut and headed for the elevator. Lucien's secretary Selma, whose desk sat in the reception area outside the closed double doors of his office on the seventh floor, eyed the envelope warily when Mia handed it to her.

"Is this," she asked, "what I think it is?"

"My resignation," Mia said.

"Oh, boy." Selma sighed. "Here we go again."

Mia went back to her office, hoping she could grab Jordan for lunch. Her friend's cubicle was empty, so Mia put on her boots and her coat, picked up her purse and left the Savard Building. Under the canopy over the revolving front doors, she flipped up the hood on her purple merino wool stadium coat.

The bleak sky was spitting snow, tiny, dry flakes the wind swirled into curlicues along the sidewalk. Mia dug her cell phone out of her purse, dialed Savard Creations, then Jordan's extension. She meant to leave a message on her voice mail, but Jordan answered.

"I did it," Mia told her. "I quit."

"You go!" Jordan cheered. "Where are you?"

"Standing on the sidewalk wondering if I should throw myself under a bus and be done with it."

"He's a tyrant. A genius, but a tyrant," said Jordan, whose whimsical, Laura Ashley - esque designs were frequently and roundly praised by Lucien. "Want me to come down and we'll go to lunch?"

Mia thought about it. If Robin the Wuss hadn't bailed on her she might've been able to choke down half a sandwich. Now she felt too nervous to eat, her stomach jumping with dread.

Copyright © 2006 by Lynn Michaels.

About the Author

Lynn Michaels, a three-time nominee for the Romance Writers of America's RITA Award, is the author of more than a dozen novels and one novella. Her books have consistently appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list. She lives in Independence, Missouri, with her husband, their two sons, and three cats she calls the Little Queens. One of her most cherished possessions is a misspelled writing award.