*****
Donna was trembling so much that at first she couldn't push the start button of her car. She sat behind the wheel and stared off into the well-lit grounds with the trimmed shrubs and palm trees waving in the breeze. She'd baited him and that hadn't been a good idea at all. But she needed to let him know that she wasn't going to be one of those wives who turned a blind eye to her husband carrying on with another woman. She didn't care that the woman had been there before her! She twisted her trembling hands in her lap before putting them on the steering wheel. He'd been so angry that she had a feeling if she hadn't left there he would have probably done her bodily harm. She knew that no one spoke to the mighty and aloof Thomas Hoffman III like that, but at that moment she hadn't cared. With a sigh, she touched the button and the car purred to life. It was going to be a very inflammatory year!
*****
“Hoffman Industries basically markets itself. The advertising campaign about the pharmaceutical company did a lot of damage control,” Sally murmured as she looked around the table at her staff.
“The cancer drug that was supposed to take the market by storm was tainted and gave the company a bad name. We tried to damage control but there's still a lot of work to be done,” Donna pointed out. She looked at her supervisor before continuing. “You asked me to do the research and get in touch with the PR department and I've done so. I have the information in this folder as well as the copy I sent to your email.”
“Thank you, Ms. Nichols,” Sally nodded. They looked up as the secretary poked her head inside the room.
“Yes, Karen?”
The woman glanced at Donna nervously. “Mr. Thomas is asking you to come up to his office Donna—I mean, Ms. Nichols.”
“Tell him I will as soon as the meeting is over.”
“You may go, Ms. Nichols,” Sally told her stiffly.
“We have a meeting to finish.” She looked at the woman who was standing there waiting to find out what to do. “Tell him I'll be with him as soon as I finish here.”
*****
“Thank you.” Thomas replaced the phone carefully, trying his best not to allow his anger to show.
“Your bride-to-be can't spare the time to come and have a meeting with us?” Talia asked, her eyes flashing angrily. “Who the hell does she think she is? This is the third time she's blown off a meeting with us. We have things to discuss, Thomas, and the wedding planner says she doesn't cooperate with her in the slightest, referring her to one of us! Is she too good to be involved in the planning of her own wedding?”
“I'll deal with her.”
“Darling, she's insolent and rude,” his mother pointed out.
“That’s finny,” he said with a grim smile. “She says the same thing about you.”
“We've been nothing but civil to that woman, in spite of the circumstances,” his mother said stiffly.
“Maybe it's the fact that you keep calling her ‘that woman’. Whether we like it or not, she's going to be a part of the family, even if it's for a short period of time, and I think it would go over well if you both try to be nice to her.”
Talia bristled. “She isn't nice to us.”
“Where's the fire?” They'd been so involved in their discussion that they hadn't heard the doors open. “Your assistant wasn't at her desk, so I came right in. Is it gang up on Donna Day?? I have to warn you that I'm not in the mood for it today. I actually have work to do.”
“It's your wedding!” Talia said furiously.
“And that's what wedding planners are for.”
“Ms. Nichols, we've been very accommodating—”
“Ms. Nichols?” Donna interrupted Rosalee as she walked further into the room. “Accommodating? Isn’t it foolish to be calling me by my surname? And as for being accommodating—I beg to differ.”
“Mother, Talia; would you give us a moment?”
Both women stared at her furiously as they walked out of the room.
“I really don’t think they like me that much,” Donna said with an unconcerned shrug.
“Do you get off on antagonizing us?” he asked her coldly as he sat behind his massive desk and stared at her balefully.
“By ‘us’ you mean you, your mother and your sister?” she asked mildly. “The answer to that would be a resounding yes. You all have such a stick so far up your asses that it would take surgery to get them out.” She held up a hand as he surged out of his chair, his expression forbidding. “Okay, that was uncalled for and I apologize. What did you want to see me about?”
He glared at her for a moment and sat back down. “The venue has been secured and the invitations sent out. Is there anyone you want to invite?”
“No. I've already made Andrea my maid of honor and I'll be walking down the aisle by myself. As you know I never had a father and have stopped caring a long time ago. Are we going on a honeymoon?”
“No,” he said shortly.
“Won’t it look odd if we don’t? Are we going to get married Saturday and come back to work on Monday?”
He looked uncertain for a moment and then with a sigh he placed his hands on the desk. “I suppose we could fly to Italy for a few days.”
“I've been to Italy, so I'd like to go somewhere else.”
He stared at her with a frown. “You do realize that it won't be a real honeymoon, don' you?”
She moved her shoulders slightly. “It doesn't mean we can't have some fun. Or at least I can have some fun. I'd like to go to Costa Land.”
“Why?”
“I've never been, and I'd like to meet the royals. I know that you're friends with them so I'm sure they'd have no problem extending an invitation. We could stay for a week.”
“I have a company to run.”
“And it won't be run to the ground in one week. What do you say?”
“I don’t think that's a good idea.”
“Tell me why not.”
“We would have to stay in the same suite.”
“A suite usually has more than one bedroom, and if it does have only one bedroom, you could always take the sofa.”
He had to make an effort to stop the twitching of his lips. He had to admire her fearlessness. “I'll think about it.”
Chapter 4
The wedding of Thomas Patrick Hoffman to Donna Annmarie Nichols made the news. How could it not? When it was discovered that the aloof and handsome billionaire was marrying not just an employee from his company, but a plus-sized African American beauty, when formerly his tastes had run to Caucasian women who barely fit into size two clothing. The wedding was held at the Catholic church a few miles away from the manor and hundreds of guests had turned up for the event. Conspicuously absent were the Schaeffers and rumor had it that Caroline Schaeffer had gone to Europe for an extended period of time. The bride was radiant in an ice-blue Romano’s original—the dress enveloping her size sixteen figure from bosom to toes and had a train a few feet long, with the front dazzling with dozens of tiny diamonds and sapphires. Her thick shoulder-length dark hair was scooped off her face and done in an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck with tendrils left to curl against her cheek. Her makeup was flawless and had been done by Boris, who had been flown in for the occasion. Diamond and emeralds glinted at her lobes and her bouquet of baby’s breath and wild white roses interspersed with daffodils made a stunning contrast to her dress.