Chapter 15

Phoebe walked into the office, but before she could reach her table, Vicki stop her with a brilliant smile.

Phoebe sighed. "No Curtis, I don't have time to do your work.."

"Please Phoebe, I'm really really busy right now, what you have to do is really simple!," Vicki pressured her. "All you have to do is, just pass this envelope to a guy in a blue Toyota right outside this building...please?".

After a few bribery, then Phoebe finally decided to bring the envelope down. On the way down, she was wondering what was so important that she has to pass the envelope down straight away. As she walked across the lobby, the blue Toyota pulled at the curb. The window on her side moved down electronically, and Phoebe leaned into the car to hand the person inside the envelope.

"Thank you so much young lady, I knew you'll understand how important this is to us," he said and took out another envelope for her, "this is for your help" and then he was gone. Phoebe stared at the envelope, puzzled and went back into the building. She couldn't find Vicki anywhere so she put the the envelope inside the table for safe keeping and went back home.

***

"Thank god you're back!," Christine (his main secretary) burst out the next morning when Cole strode swiftly into his office, followed by Keith. "Jim Walsh needs to talk to you immediately. He says it's an emergency."

"Have him come up," Cole said, shrugging out of his suit jacket. "And then come and join us in a toast. I'm about to whisk Phoebe off to Las Vegas to get married. The plane is being refueled and checked out right now."

"Does Phoebe know about this?," Christine said, frowning. "She's downstairs in Keith's office, hard at work."

"I'll convince her of the wisdom of the plan."

"When the plane is airborne and she has no choice," Keith put in with a knowing smile.

"Exactly." Cole grinned in high good spirits. He had missed her so much that he'd called her three times a day, every day, like a lovesick schoolboy. "Make yourself comfortable," he added over his shoulder. Reaching into a wide closet that held several changes of clothing, he took out a fresh shirt.

Five minutes later, he walked out of the bathroom, freshly shaven, and glanced at Jim Walsh and the round-faced man who were standing near the couch where Keith were seated. "What's up, Jim?," he asked, going over to the bar and removing a bottle of champagne, his back to the others.

"There's a security leak in the Danner project," the attorney began cautiously.

"Go on," he urged evenly.

"Evidently," the attorney continued, "there's a woman on our payroll who appears to have photocopied four of Mantafor's bids. Yesterday she was caught in the camera, passing those documents.. We have in our possession a set of the copies she passed to them to use as proof in court. "

"And this," he toss to the table a thick envelope, "Was found in her drawer. It's full of hundred dollar notes."

"That son of a-" Cole fought down his blaze of fury, trying not to let his animosity for his competitor spoil his mood. This was his wedding day. Coolly he said, "Keith, I'm going to do what I should have done five years ago. I'm going to put him out of business. From now on, I want Mantafor to bid on every job he bids on, and I want you to bid below our cost. Is that clear? I want that bastard out of our hair!"

When Keith murmured agreement, Jim continued. "We can swear out a warrant for the young woman's arrest. I've already discussed the matter with Judge Spade, and he is ready to do as soon as you give the word."

"Who is she?," Keith demanded when Cole seemed more interested in poring champagne into his glass.

"Phoebe Haliwell," the attorney said. "Cole, I know she's been working for you personally. The publicity involved in her arrest will definitely help discourage anyone else who might consider spying on us, but I waited to talk to you before we pressed charges against her. Shall I-"

Cole's voice was strangled with fury and pain. "Go back to your office," he ordered, "and wait there. I'll call you."

"Cole-." Keith spoke to Cole's back.

"Get out!," Cole voice lashed like a whip crack, then became dangerously controlled. "Christine, call Phoebe and have her come up here in ten minutes. Then you can take the day off."

In a tomblike silence that followed their departure, Cole straightened from the bar and tossed down the champagne he had poured to celebrate his marriage to an angel. A princess with laughing eyes who had walked into his life and turned it upside down. Phoebe was spying on him, betraying him to his competitor.

His heart shouted a denial, but his mind knew it was true. He wanted to strangle her for her treachery, to murder her with his own hands.

He wanted to die.

***

Phoebe glanced at the three security guards who were standing in Cole's private reception area as she hurried toward his office. They watched her, their expressions strangely alert, wary. She smiled slightly as she passed them, but only one of them responded-he nodded, a curt unfriendly inclination of his head.

At Cole's office door she paused to smooth her hair. Her hand trembled with mixture of delight at seeing him again. "Welcome back," she said, walking into his suite.

Cole was standing at the window with his back to her, one hand braced high against the frame, staring out across the city. The drapes were drawn over the remainder of the glass wall, and none of the lights had been turned on to dispel the gloom of a prematurely dark and rainy day.

"Close the door," he said softly. His voice sounded strange, but his back was toward her as she walked to him and she couldn't see his face.

"Did you miss me, Phoebe?," he asked, still without turning.

Phoebe smiled at the question he always asked her when he had been away from her. "Yes," she admitted, boldly sliding her arms around his waist from behind. His body seemed to tense at her touch, and when she rubbed her cheek against his broad, muscular back, it felt as hard as iron.

"How much did you miss me?," he whispered silkily.

His hand came down from the window, and he turned. Without looking at her he walked over to the sofas and sat down. "Come over here," he invited smoothly.

Phoebe obediently went over to the sofa and stood looking down into his handsome, shadowed face, trying to read his strange mood. His expression was impassive, almost aloof, but when she started to sit beside him, he caught her wrist and pulled her onto his lap.

"Show me how much you want me," he urged.

There was an odd note in his voice that sent unexplainable alarm dancing down Phoebe's spine, but it was promptly squelched by the commanding insistence of his mouth on hers. He kissed her thoroughly, expertly and Phoebe helplessly surrendered to the torrid demands of his lips. He pulled away and stood up. "That was nice honey, how much do I have to pay you now?"

"What?," Phoebe asked puzzled.

"You do realize what you've done right?"

"What have I done?"

"Where did you go yesterday?"

"After working, I went straight home. What is going on here?," Phoebe asked getting a little frighten.

"Explain that," he ordered in a terrifying whisper and push the envelope she took from the man yesterday onto the floor. Her eyes bulged when she saw money notes. "I got that envelope from that man-"

"So you're not denying it?"

"Denying..Of course I admit I took the envelope from that guy. I pass him the envelope-"

"-which contain Mantafor's bids, which I specifically told you never to tell anyone"

Phoebe was shocked. "I... Vicki..."

"Are you blaming Vicki now? Curtis herself saw you photocopying those bids and the camera caught you giving those bids to our competitor," he said in a menacingly soft voice.

"Curtis...," Phoebe whispered, What is going on here? I didn't photocopy anything, so how could Curtis saw me photocopying those bids...

"Cole...!," Phoebe cried out, terrified by the black rage, the virulent hatred blazing in his eyes. "I can explain everything, C-"

"Phoebe," he interrupted menacingly, "Will you still love me five years from now when you get out of prison?"

"Oh Cole, please listen to me," she implored brokenly. "Please listen to me, don't do this to us!"

Cole jerked her arms loose, and she crumpled to the floor, her shoulders racked with deep choking sobs. "I love you so much," she wept hysterically. "Why won't you listen to me? Why? I'm begging you to just listen to me."

"Get up!," he snapped. He had already started toward the door. Her chest heaving with convulsive silent sobs, Phoebe straightened her clothing, braced a hand on the coffee table and slowly pushed herself to her feet.

Cole wrenched the door open and the security guards stepped forward. "get her out of here," he ordered icily.

Phoebe stared in paralyzed terror at the men coming purposely toward her. They were taking her to jail. Her gaze flew to Cole, silently imploring him for the last time to listen, to believe, to stop this.

With his hands in his pockets, he returned her gaze without flinching, his chiseled features a mask of stone, his eyes like chips of gray ice. Only the muscle jerking in tightly clenched jaw betrayed the fact that he was feeling any emotion at all.

The three armed guards surrounded her, and one of them took her by the elbow. Phoebe yanked free, her eyes deep pools of pain. "Don't touch me," Without looking back, su he walked with them out of his office and across the silent, deserted reception area.

When the door closed behind her, Cole went over to the sofa. Sitting down with his forearms resting on his knees, he stared at the money, scattered around the floor. He covered his face with his hands.

***

The silent guards Phoebe across the marble lobby, which was crowded with late-departing employees. In the press of so many people, Phoebe was spared the humiliation of curious onlookers. Everyone else was rushing home, absorbed with individual thoughts. Not that she particularly cared who witnessed her shame; at the moment, she cared about nothing.

It was dark outside and raining, but Phoebe hardly felt the icy sting of the rain pelting against her thin silk blouse. She looked disinterestedly for the police car that she expected to see waiting at the curb, but there was none. The guard on her right also turned to leave, then he hesitated and said with curt compassion, "Do you have a coat, miss?"

Phoebe looked at him with pain-dazed eyes. "Yes," she said inanely. She did have a coat; it was with her purse in Keith's office.

The guard glanced uncertainly at the curb, as if he expected someone to pull over and offer her a ride. "I'll get it for you," he said, and walked back into the building with his companions.

Phoebe stood on the sidewalk, rain glazing her hair and pelting her face like a million icy hypodermic needles. Apparently she wasn't going to be in jail, after all. For a moment hop flared and burned painfully bright. "Keith!," she called when he were about to pass without seeing her.

Keith turned sharply, and Phoebe's stomach clenched at the bitter accusing fury in the single scathing glance he passed over her. "I have nothing to say to you," he snapped.

All hope dies inside of Phoebe and with its death came a blessed numbness. She tuned on her heel, shoved her frozen hands into the pockets of her tweed skirt and started walking down the street. Six steps later, Keith's hand grasped her arm, turning her around. "Here," he said, his expression just as hostile as before. "Take my coat."

Phoebe carefully pulled her arm from his grasp. "Don't touch me," she said calmly. "I don't ever want to be touched."

Alarm flickered in his gaze before he extinguished it. "Take my coat," he repeated tersely, already starting to remove it. "You'll freeze to death."

Phoebe found nothing unpleasant about the prospect of freezing to death. Ignoring his outstretched coat, she lifted her gaze to his. "Do you believe what Cole believes?"

"Every single word," he averred.

With her hair plastered to her head and the rain driving into her upturned face, Phoebe said with great dignity, "In that case, I don't want your coat." She started to turn, then stopped. "But you can give Cole a message for me when he finally discovers the truth." Her teeth chattered as she said, "T-tell him to stay away from me!"

Without thinking about where she was going, Phoebe automatically walked the eight blocks to the only people who would always be there for her. Piper and Paige.