'You'll have to make peace with yourself,' she said flatly. 'I can't do it for you.'
His anger swelled. 'I should have known you would try to make it my fault. What's happened to us is
He turned to stalk away from her, but he hadn't finished punishing her for not being able to help him. Spinning back around, he made a final cruel attack. 'I'm warning you right now. You'd better not be playing any games with those birth control pills.'
Her hand spasmed at her side. 'You bastard.'
Water was glistening on her cheeks, but he didn't know if it was from the hot tub or because she was crying. 'If you get pregnant, I'll leave you,' he said viciously. 'I mean it.'
She spun away from him and stalked toward the house, her robe lying forgotten on the deck.
'Things had better start changing around here,' he shouted after her.
But she had disappeared inside, and he was left alone with himself.
Chapter 22
FBT had been caught with its pants down. All of its sophisticated forecasting tools, its graphs and charts and leather-bound strategy statements, its legions of MBA's and Ph.D.'s and decades of experience, hadn't been able to predict the public's growing fascination with the personal computer.
As the seventies had come to an end, the executives had kept themselves busy smiling and harumphing and doubletalking the press, referring to stable product line and the fickleness of the consumer products market. They had talked about FBT tradition, waxed poetic over the majesty of their giant mainframes and those eye-popping profits listed in crisp black ink in their annual reports. And the more they had talked, the more they had qualified and quantified away, the more the world's business community had laughed behind their backs at them for having been so woefully left behind by a bunch of wild-eyed kids.
For Cal Theroux it had been unbearable.
He was the one who had given FBT back its self respect with the launching of the Falcon 101 in January of 1982. It had been his baby from the beginning, and its success had given him the final leverage he needed to consolidate his power within FBT. Now Cal was riding the small computer's success all the way to personal glory.
On the other side of the office, his secretary was unpacking the last of his personal effects and arranging them in the bookshelves. She had been at the task for some time, and he was growing impatient. The ceremony that marked his appointment as the new chairman of FBT would begin in less than an hour, and he wanted a few moments to himself.
'That's enough for now, Patricia. When my wife arrives, send her in.'
His secretary nodded and left.
Finally alone, Cal allowed himself the liberty of sliding back in his chair and contemplating his imposing surroundings. Some men were obsessed with sex, others with wealth. But for Cal, power had always been the ultimate prize.
He stroked the polished malachite top of the chairman's desk and touched the panel of switches that controlled the FBT fountains. Since the grounds were crawling with members of the press, he suppressed the urge to manipulate the switches as he had seen Joel do so many times. Even Paul Clemens had not been able to resist toying with those seven fountains during his reign as FBT chairman following Joel's death. They were the final symbol of command, and now they belonged to Cal.
The door opened and his wife Nicole entered. 'Hello, darling.' As she walked across the carpet toward him, her shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. He knew she was awaiting his verdict on her appearance.
She looked reed-thin and stylish in a black suit with tan piping. Her dark hair fell in a smooth page boy that formed identical sickles over her ears and revealed the small diamond studs he had given her last week for their third wedding anniversary. Although she was only thirty-four, faint lines had begun to appear near her eyes. It would not be long before he would have to arrange plastic surgery for her.
'Take off the bracelet,' he said, eyeing the silver bangle at her wrist with distaste.
She obeyed him instantly. Nicole's dedication to pleasing him was one of the qualities he liked most about her. He had chosen well. Not only was she the daughter of one of the more prominent members of the FBT Board of Directors, but she had been in love with him for years, even when he was engaged to Susannah. At the time, however, Joel Faulconer's daughter had been the bigger prize. His jaw tightened. How he would love to see that bitch's face when he took office today as FBT's chairman.
'It's a zoo in the lobby,' Nicole said. 'Half the world has shown up to watch you take office.' She gazed around her at the well-appointed office. 'I can't believe this has finally happened. I'm so proud of you, darling.'
As she chattered on, he watched the adoration glimmering in her eyes, and he could almost pretend that he loved her. But he wasn't a sentimental man, and he no longer believed that he was capable of that sort of emotion. The closest Cal had ever come to love had been with Susannah, and that had led to the greatest humiliation of his life.
Even after six years, his stomach still churned when he remembered standing at the altar and watching her run away on that motorcycle. Instead of easing his desire for revenge, the passing years had fueled it. He had been patient for so long. While Joel was alive, the old man had prevented him from doing what needed to be done. In the years after his death, during Paul Clemens's reign, Cal's position had been precarious and he hadn't been able to allow himself the luxury of taking even the mildest risks. But with the success of the Falcon 101, all of that had finally changed.
His intercom clicked on, interrupting the monologue Nicole had been delivering on the suitability of the dress she had chosen for the reception that evening.
'Miss Faulconer is here.'
'Send her in.'
He could feel Nicole's resentment, and he smiled inwardly. His wife made no secret of the fact that she detested Joel Faulconer's daughter. But that was all right. His long-term friendship with Paige kept Nicole on her toes.
The door burst open and Paige breezed in, carefree and beautiful, her skin golden from the sun. She greeted Nicole with a cool cheek-press and headed toward Cal. 'I can't believe you made me come back for this hideous ceremony. Calvin. One of the photographers goosed me on my way in through the lobby. He had a great ass, but even I draw the line at body odor.' She slid into his arms. 'No tongue, sweetie. Your wife is watching.'
He brushed a suitably chaste kiss across her lips. Being with Paige was exhausting, but necessary. It was ironic that she, rather than Susannah, had provided the weapon that had allowed him to rise to his current position. From the beginning, Paige had hated the responsibilities that went along with the huge block of FBT stock she had inherited, and Cal had made certain he was always there to advise and comfort her. Within a year of Joel's death, Paige had given him her proxy so he could vote her shares in any way he wished. In return, he had promised not to burden her with the FBT responsibilities she detested. Heads, he won. Tails, he won.
'You know I wouldn't have asked you back today if it hadn't been absolutely necessary,' he said.
She stuck out her lip in a playful pout. 'But there are going to be speeches. I hate speeches.'
'Really, Paige,' Nicole said stiffly. 'Life can't always be one of your parties.'
'Who says?' Paige settled on the edge of Cal's desk and crossed her long legs. They were bare of stockings, he noted with disapproval. At least her raw silk suit was appropriate, although he doubted that she had bothered to put on a bra beneath it. He remembered with some nostalgia the time before Joel's death, when Paige had dressed conservatively and behaved with at least a modicum of dignity. That had changed within a year of her father's funeral-about the time he and Paige had made their agreement.
'I haven't bothered you for months,' he said. 'You know I wouldn't have asked you to fly in if it hadn't been absolutely necessary.'
She regarded him evenly. 'You couldn't miss having your picture taken with me today of all days, could you,
