Glass Ceilings (2 page)

She looked
on
as Royce took a seat
beside Mrs
Galloway, the aging CEO’s wife, a
nd as she
watche
d, bitterness
rose
to fill
Kerry’s
throat. How she hated herself for wanting him ...
and
how she hated
him
for not wanting her
.

Damn
that
man
,
she thought bitterly,
look
how
easily
he charms old Ma Galloway, even at her age.
But
what woman
could
resist that undercurrent
of
power
,
and
the
charisma
he
can pour on when he chooses to
?

Kerry sipped her shiraz and
pulled a face.

Bloody wine, why do they insist on serving it at these stupid functions? Isn’t this supposed to be ‘pre-dinner cocktails’? Not that I want a cocktail either. Give me a scotch over all their fancy
shmancy
drinks any day.

She almost threw the hardly touched glass at
a passing waiter and hissed
an order for a scotch on the rocks.

‘What sort—’

‘
Anything
. Just make it fast.’
She was breathing hard.

The waiter hurried back with her drink and she snatched it from his tray,
downing it quickly
in one gulp. He frown
ed and
was about to move
away
, intending
to
avoid her
for the rest of the evening
despite her obvious attractions
,
when she signalled to him.

‘Another one.’

It took him lo
nger to return this time, so Kerry
went back to covertly watching Royce
through narrowed eyes
. She
pondered on
how hi
s arrogant confidence had
seen him overtake many of his
less successful
contemporaries on the climb up the corporate ladder
.
Turning her back to the
room,
she allowed herself a
derisive
scowl
.
Even Jim, her husband, seemed happy to stay on his little rung,
which exposed
him to an imminent squashing beneath ascending boots
.

Her face twisted
as
images from the night before
flitted across her mind
.
She’d
tried once more to convince Jim to apply for the CEO position,
but
with
out success. He was adamant
he would
s
tay
where he was
,
arguing that
he was happiest there
. T
his
mulish
stance
put
him squarely in her ‘less successful’ category.
Well, less ambitious anyway,
she conceded.

Most nights now
,
Kerry found
herself
imagining
Royce in her arms
instead of Jim.
She squeezed
her
eyes shut for a brief instant. I
t was
too easy
to
visualise
being
made love to
by Royce, s
he’d dreamt
of it s
o
many ti
mes since he
’d
first joined RCL. B
ut she was certain the real t
hing would be even more
sensual
than she imagined
.
She felt a
familiar shiver run through her body
as she turned to
look across
at
him again
.

It seemed eve
ry time she heard hi
s deep
voice, that same thrill went through her.
Whenever they
met, she could feel his powerful presence engulfing her, stirring her emotions to fever pitch.
His
masculine
charm was like a magnet, drawing her inexorably towards him, s
tripping her of
self respect and reducing her to some sort
of pathetic, willing slave
....

‘Your drink
...
madam?’

With a start, Kerry became aware
she’d been staring over at
Royce
as though transfixed.
She
dropped her gaze and
bit her highly glossed
bottom
lip. Holding
her breath,
she glanced
around quickly
from under her lashes
to see if any
one
had noticed.
But no curious faces looked her way.
She pursed her lips and blew
a small
sigh
of relief.
She was stand
ing a little away from the
crowd, who were all too busy with their false smiles, small talk and gratuitous
socialising to notice her
indiscretion.

S
he
grabbed the glass from the waiter’s tray
without looking at him
a
nd waved him away with an impatient
hand. This time she took longer to finish the drink, lingering over it and making
an effort to put the disturbin
g thoughts of Royce out of her mind. But she couldn’t resist
a casual glan
ce
at
the group surrounding him
.
She watched him pouring a glass of wine for Mrs Galloway and laughing at some comment she made.
His coat sleeve outlined the muscular arm beneath, and the front of his jacket opened a little to exp
ose his shirt
.
She noted the contrast its brilliant whiteness made against the tan skin of his smooth throat.

Although his sex appeal might be lost on the old matriarch, no woman cou
ld be totally unaffected by that
wide smile, or his habit of throwing back his head
when he laughs
,
she decided
.

Although his
manly
face was not strictly handsome, he had an engaging smile—when he chose to employ it—and even white teeth. And the intensity of his gaze and the aura of strength and vitality about him drew female attention wherever he went.

How often
have I pictured
his
face on a pillow beside me,
and those dark
eyes
gazing a
t me as though I’m the gateau
and he’s the
cake fork
?
Too damn often,
Kerry acknowledged bitterly.
No
matter what I do, it seems
Royce James lau
ghs at my eff
orts to seduce him,
when
m
ost
men would jump at the chance
.

Scowling at the thought and fo
rcing herself to look away, she
rested her
perfect teeth
on the rim of her scotch
glass
for a second. When she lifted them off
,
anyone
watching would have sworn
she was snarling
as she breathed the words, ‘
Well, you’re running out of chances
,
Royce.
One day you’ll realise I’m not someone to be toyed with
.
...
’

* * *

29 September 1995

It had to be
HIM,
didn’t it diary. The most arrogant colt in RCL’s stable of mostly long-in-the-tooth executives. I hardly know the man—haven’t ever seen him at the bauxite mine—but already I despise him. From what I hear, he’s always traipsing around overseas, doing who-knows-what, under the convenient ‘company business’ umbrella. Which is probably a blessing for the rest of us!

Today he treated me like a piece of office equipment. There I was, blissfully convinced I was an important human element of the company’s success. But now, after only a few words from
HIM
, I feel like an asset on the company register, like a fax machine or a photocopier. And you know what the worst part was? I just
STOOD
there, exactly like some dumb machine on stand-by. Oh sure, my mouth was poised to deliver a cutting retort, but did it come? Of course not! The words log-jammed in my numbed brain, and the few that made it through got stuck between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. So instead of putting the insensitive bastard back in his place, I ended up taking his high-handed treatment on the chin.

Ooh, when I think how I must have looked, for all the world like yet another empty-headed, lusting female, swooning at having Royce-bloody-James’ attention for a millisecond. Cringe worthy! But let’s get this straight, my silence was from outrage—outrage I say!—and that’s all.

DAMN
that man for making me feel so pitiful. Oh, I’m
SO
angry, and not just at him. How
TRULY
pathetic am I? Despite what I said about being outraged (and I stand by that, BTW), while he was belittling me, I couldn’t help staring at those intense brown eyes of his, and noticing how his dark hair curled onto his white shirt collar. Worse still, I caught myself wondering what it would feel like to be held in his strong arms. Can you believe it?

Of course that little transgression is just between you and me diary, and I’ll deny to the death I ever even
THOUGHT
it! And it’s the furnace for you if you ever spill the beans!

I wonder what news I’ll be sharing with you next, my stationary stationery
:-)
. I very much doubt I’ll be reporting that Royce James is afraid Verity Parker might be a serious rival for the CEO job. But give me half a chance, pal, and I might give you a run for your money!

Oh diary, I know applying for the CEO job is optimistic, even considering my qualifications and experience, but I have to believe in my abilities and myself, especially if no one else does.

Well, tomorrow is another day and who knows what it will bring, apart from a few hangovers for the senior execs attending tonight’s dinner party–yet another little soirée I wasn’t invited to....

Chapter Two

Verity was a little later than usual getting
in
to work.
The friendly greeting in the st
aff room from
her best
friend
and co-worker
,
Claire Vincent, was tinged with concern.

‘Hey, what happened to you?
“Always-early-Verity”
is only just on time for a change!’

A little out of breath, Verity threw her
belongings
into a corner
before hurrying
to the
coffee vending machine
,
and punching in
a double-
shot flat white.
As the machine
whirred, bubbled,
and sent delicious aromas into the air, she could feel the tension
in
her
neck and
shoulders
easing
.
She yawned
,
and
Claire could just make out the words ‘I overslept’
.

The machine finished brewing and beeped. Verity collected the cardboard cup with i
t
s precious caffeinated contents
,
and explained
between
generous
sip
s
,
‘I stayed up late last night ...
working on my application.’

Claire took in
her friend
’s damp hair and freshly scrubbed, makeup-free
face
,
and
wondered
if Verity ever looked plain or ordinary.
Like I would if I’d had a late night,
she thought enviously
.