Chapter Eighteen: Coffee Break

"I need a job." Still pale from prison, Mary Stuart didn't look her best. Her golden hair had a washed-out look from harsh soap. Her slim figure showed the effects of a prison diet, thin and undernourished. But her emerald eyes were steady and she held her head high. She looked her ex-lover right in the eye, daring him to make this about their past. Daring him to take her for granted.

"You've got a job," Marco grunted. "It's called Tudor Industries. The public trial cleared your name, Mary. You won."

"I beat Elizabeth," Mary corrected. "But I didn't win. In the minds of the public, and the shareholders, I'm still a murder suspect, even though that poor man's death was ruled a suicide. I want that waitress job, Marco. I used to wait tables in college."

"So wait tables now." Marco threw an apron at her, expecting Mary to fold after a few hours of hard work. His grandfather's restaurant got good and busy on summer weekends, and with Marco in charge business was better than ever. But the new waitress was up to the task. All night long she was on her feet, smiling, chatting with diners, making everyone feel right at home.

"How was that for a first night on the job?" When the night was over, Mary wanted Marco to see that she wasn't taking anything for granted. He didn't owe her a job, after all. It was up to her to prove that she could stand the pace. At the same time, she didn't want to look down on her luck and desperate, either. Her question at closing time was meant to sound cool and casual, not needy and desperate. She'd worked her feet off, but she could work even harder than that if she had to. She wasn't even that tired, she told herself, suddenly fighting to hold back a huge yawn.

"You did all right," Marco said gruffly, his rough manner allowing him to hide the size of his admiration. "You got a place to stay?"

One week later . . .

"This is unacceptable!" Elizabeth Tudor slammed her hand down on her huge desk. "Are you trying to make me look ridiculous?"

"I'm trying to get my life back on track," Mary Stuart said quietly. Her tired feet were killing her after another late night at Marco's. Yet she had too much pride to sit down in posh Elizabeth's office. It was the same luxurious suite that had once been hers.

"You think working as a waitress for that . . . that gangster is a way to get your life back on track?" Red-haired Elizabeth scowled at her golden-haired cousin, and pressed a button on her massive desk. Her slim and attractive male secretary appeared at once, bearing a silver tray full of French pastries and fresh fruit.

"He's not a gangster," Mary objected, her empty stomach growling at the sight of food. "He's really very nice. When I was in prison he came to visit me. He made sure I was all right."

"I made sure you were all right," Elizabeth snapped. Her cousin Mary simply stared at her, her innocent features showing disbelief. "Oh, stop gaping at me, girl! I wanted you to go to prison, but I used my connections to make sure you weren't hurt."

"Am I supposed to feel grateful, Elizabeth?" Mary's kindly green eyes were slightly scornful. She sat down and took a pastry from the tray, even though she'd told herself she would never accept anything from her cousin. "If you don't mind, I'll make my own decisions from now on."

"And I suppose moving in with Marco was your decision?" Elizabeth didn't try to hide her scorn, yet a jealous pang shook her icy composure all the same. Marco was Mary's lover, and all of Elizabeth's power and authority couldn't change that galling fact.

"It was a mutual decision," Mary said, talking with her mouth full. It had been awful, surviving on filthy prison food for months. Marco had sent her sweets, of course. And there were other packages, fancy ones she ripped open greedily without bothering to see who sent them. Had Elizabeth been sending her treats as well?

"There's too much talk about me being heartless and cruel," Elizabeth said, her sharp voice cutting into her cousin's jumbled thoughts. "I want you to leave Marco and take a job with Tudor industries. You can work part-time if you like, or work from home."

"Or I can keep on working hard and making my own way." Mary dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Do you have any coffee, cousin?"