I watched as she clamored to get to the exit right before she is dragged back by one of the men situated at the door.
“Eleanor. Running isn’t the right thing to do now. All you have to do is admit your fault and we would let you go.”
Eleanor slaps the man who is just doing his job. His face remains stoic, there is no response whatsoever from the man who is a bulky 6ft. His hands are clasped at his front while his body blocks the door like the wall he is.
Eleanor turns to glare at me, sparkling ambers bright with fury.
“This was your plan?” She spat.
I don’t say a word as I sip from the caramel flavored coffee. Martin always had exquisite taste.
“Where did you import this one from?” I ask him. He raises a brow at me, his expression telling me to be serious. With a heavy sigh, I turn to the woman of the moment.
“Eleanor. All evidence is against you. You’d be doing yourself a favor by accepting that you did in fact steal that recipe from my sister here,” I gesture to Mabel, who is glaring at Eleanor with tear filled eyes, “and we can be on our way.”
It is sad really. The rich always prey on the poor. My sister and I have been estranged for years due to negligence from my cowardly father who got her mother pregnant fresh out of high school and proceeded to marry my mother for her wealth. I am the only child. I thought I was, until I found out about Mabel. And even if she refuses to acknowledge our relationship to the public – it is quite intimidating with my profile – I have vowed to myself to protect her.
She may be older but I am the powerful brother. We are so different both in looks – she takes after her mom – and character. When I found her profile, I never did like this Eleanor. She struck me as cunning and crafty. Maybe that is solely related to the fact that my Private Investigator dug up the dirt that Mabel never would.
“I am not admitting to anything. We both came up with the recipe-”
“Don’t you lie Eleanor!”
My sister slams the desk as she gets to her feet, scaring the shit out of me and sending me rocking backwards with the coffee spilling all over my custom-made Armani.
“Mabel! What the heck?”
She ignores me, still speaking to Eleanor.
“I came up with that recipe on my own. You never helped one bit. Why would you do that? Aren’t we supposed to be friends? Even with everything, I agreed to split the profit equally. What more could you want Eleanor? Huh?”
I have to say, I am quite mad that while my sister is pouring her heart out, Eleanor is rolling her eyes. She could have gotten away with it. She was supposed to sign over the recipe to Martin here, for a million dollars. That is until I intercepted after my sister came to me. My sister never asks me for help. If she does, it is grave. The only other time she came to me was to pay for her mother’s surgery to take out a tumor.
Mabel fortunately never told Eleanor about me which made it easy. A fake accident put me right on her path. I mean, everyone in New York knows this face. I just had to play my cards right and she was eating out of my palm. Flowers, jewelry, you name it.
She was tough. I have to give her that. Keeping business aside pleasure. She was a bonified liar though. She lied about everything. From where she works to where she lives.
She slipped when she excitedly told me about a deal, she would be signing this morning. She rambled on and on about how she’s perfected the recipe. A slow kiss and some good s*x later, she came out with the name of the man and company. Only one week. She was cheap. Too cheap.
Now, both influencers, my sister and the evil spawn, stand at eye level glaring at each other, while Beatrice, my very sexy, mid-thirties and single mom secretary, tries to salvage what’s left of my suit.
“Mabel,” I call, “She doesn’t have to admit anything. She would be returning hundred percent of all stolen income by this evening unless she wants to go viral and be labeled a thief. Mind you, a word from me can get you banned from the industry.”
I’m not even looking at her. How can I? Beatrice’s boobs is right in my face. Eleanor’s eyes widen as the words leave my mouth. I’m able to catch a glimpse when Beatrice shifts momentarily.
“Oh yeah. I forgot to mention. I had us recorded every time we met. I can’t believe I’d be seen with you should that thing ever be released.”
Eleanor glares some more before she turns to walk out the door again. The loyal wall still wouldn’t move.
She turns to me. I nod my head at the wall man and he shifts to the side. As she opens the door, I call for her and she stops in her tracks, turns to face me again. I can see the rims of her eyes redlined with unshed tears.
“You should work on your moaning techniques. You sound like a dying cat.”
She gasps and so does everyone in the room.
“Good lord.” Martin says, almost inaudibly.
The tears drop right before she exits the room. Dad would be so proud of me. I made a woman cry.