Page 4 of Sadie’s Highlander (Highland Protector #1)
CHAPTER 3
“ N o dessert. Just the check.” Delia didn’t look up, just pulled a sleek black wallet out of her bag and selected a credit card from the colorful assortment peeping out of the orderly slots filling one side of the narrow clutch.
Sadie held up a hand, stopping the waitress before she could move away. “Yes, we definitely want dessert.” She spared a glance across the table at Delia, then beamed her friendliest smile at the matron in the powder-pink polyester uniform. “Or at least I do. Some of that delicious-looking apple pie.” Sadie paused, nearly drooling in anticipation. “And ice cream.” She straightened in the chair and excitedly drummed her fingertips along the worn metal strip framing the Formica-topped dining table. “And could you drizzle some of that caramel topping all over it? That would be awesome.”
The middle-aged waitress grinned, then winked while patting her own slightly thick middle. “A girl after my own heart. You got it, sweetie. And I think we’ve got some of those crunchy caramel pecan bits back yonder too. How ’bout if I sprinkle a handful of those across that ice cream? Crunchy goodness always makes the world a little more bearable.” She fixed Delia with a disgusted look, pulled the ticket out of her oversized pocket, and slapped it down on the table in front of her. “Here’s your ticket.” Walking away, she smiled back over her shoulder at Sadie. “Your pie’s on the house, sweetie. You’ve earned it.”
Sadie grinned. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Bitch,” Delia said with a soft uppity snort while glaring at the retreating waitress. She locked her no tip for you look on the woman as she barely sipped at her coffee. Her expression of revulsion worsened. “And not a decent coffee to be had for weeks.” Delia lowered the cup to the table, tilting her head as she studied Sadie with an expression that could only mean trouble. “You know . . . you’ve sort of got a cute face. And you could even be described as kind of attractive in a chubby Italian-Greekish sort of way.”
And there it was. The standard family bullshit . Sadie leaned back in the chair, bracing herself for the familiar bullying she’d tolerated for years.
“If you’d lose about sixty or so pounds, you might even be stunning enough to catch a look or two from an average guy.” Delia nudged a half-eaten carrot stick across the small dessert plate she’d insisted her raw vegetables be served on, then took another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you even attempt to better yourself? That’s one of the main things about you that always drove Mother insane.”
How many times had she heard that if you’d just lose weight you’d be so pretty ? Sadie had lost count. Her parents had chanted it to her every time they’d seen her with food. She’d heard the insult so much it didn’t even sting anymore—well, at least not as much as it did when she was a kid. She forced a grin at Delia and held up her glass. “I’m drinking diet soda. Happy?”
Delia rolled her eyes, then grimaced at the overflowing bowl of apple-pie–ice-cream perfection the waitress plopped down in front of Sadie.
“Enjoy, sweetie!” The waitress patted Sadie on the shoulder, fixed Delia with another sour glare, then ambled back to her post behind the dinner counter.
“Wanna bite?” Sadie held out a heaping spoonful of apple-pie yumminess oozing with caramel gooeyness and chopped nuts. Watching Delia flinch and recoil as though she’d just been offered rat poison was almost better than eating the pie. Almost.
Delia hissed out an insulted huff, fished her phone out of her purse, and pointed it at Sadie. “I’m going to email Dwyn MacKay and inform him that you’ve had a chance to think about it and you’re accepting Alec MacDara’s offer.”
The delectable mouthful of pie suddenly turned bitter. Sadie swallowed hard and took a long sip of soda to wash it past the knot in her throat. She had tried not to think about Mr. Alec MacDara’s third term. What the devil was the man up to? Why was he so determined to spend time with her? She reached across the table and plucked the phone out of Delia’s hand and placed it by the bowl of apple pie. Delia wouldn’t touch it there. “No. Not yet. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”
“You don’t have any choice.”
“Yes, I do.” Sadie covered the phone with her hand. “I’m not accepting those terms until I figure out his angle.”
Delia made a face and flipped one hand as though shooing Sadie’s worries away. “Are you that dense? For some strange reason the man wants you. Must have a fetish for fat girls or something. Consider yourself lucky. You. With a man like that? Six weeks of riding a prize Scottish stud. You should thank me and whatever sex god who decided to drop him in your lap.”
Delia straightened in her chair, a sudden look of concern barely twitching her Botox-smoothed brow. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” An evil smirk curled the corner of her mouth. “Of course, if you are, he might grant us a few extra weeks of filming for that additional benefit.”
The delicious meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and butter beans did an unpleasant barrel roll in the pit of Sadie’s stomach. She glanced around, pinpointing the exact location of the restroom. If Delia maintained her current rant, dinner might be making a quick exit.
Sadie admitted she’d been drawn to Alec MacDara—what woman wouldn’t be? But the way Delia laid it out, it sounded like an ugly thing. Demeaning and sick. Six weeks as the rented-out whore so Delia could do her filming. And when the six weeks were done—then what? She wasn’t like Delia. She couldn’t detach herself from intimacy and treat it like it was some simple everyday act like brushing her teeth or changing her socks. She’d had relationships before. Real relationships. It had hurt like hell when they’d ended, but at least they hadn’t been anything as questionable as this.
“I’m not going to slut myself out just so you can make your little film. Spreading your legs to get what you want might be standard practice for you, but it’s not for me.” Sadie braced herself for Delia’s explosion. She didn’t usually stand up to her sister—and when she did, her bank account always suffered for it. Delia would not only hold her paychecks, but she’d also block the meager trust fund deposits. There’d be no income until Delia cooled off.
Sadie held her ground. She had one credit card that wasn’t quite maxed out. She could survive for a little while until Delia got distracted with another project and needed help pulling it together. She swirled the spoon through the melting ice cream in the dish, making curlicues of caramel and chopped nuts. If she didn’t give in and help Delia, she’d definitely be back to square one on getting any scripts submitted to an agent. Delia might even have her blacklisted. A heavy sigh escaped her. Surely, Delia wouldn’t go that far over this deal . What Delia was asking her to do was just wrong.
Delia shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. As she slowly lowered the cup back to the table, she seemed dangerously calm. “Everybody does it, Sadie. Sex is a transaction. Nothing more.” She looked up and attempted a strained smile. “The sooner you figure that out, little sister, the better off you’ll be.”
How terribly sad to be so cold and empty. Sadie studied Delia. How had she become so broken? Mean, spiteful bitch or not, Delia was still her sister, and it was times like this that made Sadie feel sorry for her and almost care about her. After all, Delia had suffered a childhood with their cold, disinterested parents even longer than Sadie had.
Sadie rubbed the worn ridge of the teaspoon handle as though it were a wishing stone. Without looking up from the slightly bent piece of flatware, she forced out the words. “Maybe I could accept Alec’s terms as long as he understands that it has to be strictly business—real business—not the messing-up-the-sheets kind of business. Do you think that would work?”
A dangerously explosive silence from the other side of the table stretched on entirely too long. Great. She had irritated her sister even more. Sadie met Delia’s gaze and rolled her shoulders as though readying for a fight. Might as well get the main event started. “Well?”
Delia looked like the proverbial cat that had just ripped the wings off the canary. Snatching up her untouched butter knife, she flicked Sadie’s hand away from the phone and lightly tapped on the rhinestone-studded case. “Word it however you like, little sister. Convince him. After all, words are your gift.” She shoved the phone closer to Sadie and gave a slow wink. “And I’ll even sweeten the deal. If you can convince Mr. MacDara to accept your terms and grant us access, I’ll add you to my team of screenwriters. Your name will be in the credits—billed as one of the leading writers on this project. I promise. This will be the break into the business that you’ve been waiting for, for so very long.”
Screenwriter. Could she really trust Delia? Sadie searched her sister’s cold violet eyes for the faintest trace of sincerity. Chilling how the contact-induced coloring always took on an oddly sinister hue—or maybe it was just Delia’s personality shining through. Her sister really wanted to film here. Maybe Delia was for real this time. Sadie leaned forward, struggling to keep any hint of taking the bait out of her voice. “How can I be one of the screenwriters if I have to spend my days with Alec and my nights at MacDara Keep?”
Delia didn’t bat an eye. “The writers will meet at the park in the evenings to flesh out the next day’s scenes for any needed filler. It’s in the contract. You know that. You argued that the MacDaras would never accept that clause.”
Spend her days with the sexy, enigmatic Alec MacDara and spend her nights writing scenes. Had she died and gone to heaven or was this just another doorway to one of Delia’s many levels of hell? Sadie chewed on the corner of her lip, rolling the phone in her hand.
Delia didn’t say a word, just folded her hands around her coffee cup and waited.
“You look like you’re waiting for me to take the bait.” Sadie rubbed her thumb across the phone, the raised rhinestones encrusting the case grated against her flesh, rough as sandpaper.
With a shrug, Delia coyly attempted a nonchalant smile. “If we don’t film here, we’ll film somewhere else. I won’t lose a thing.” The smile somehow became colder as she slowly leaned forward. “But if we don’t film here, I will never give you the opportunity to join my screenwriters again and I will make sure that everyone in the business avoids all of your screenplays like the plague. You will be blacklisted in the business, dear little sister. East Coast to West Coast. You’ll be done. The choice is yours.”
Now there was the Delia that Sadie knew. Delia had enough connections to make good on the threat that Sadie wouldn’t even be able to get an ad printed in the personals, much less sell a screenplay. “If I convince Alec to accept my version of his terms, I start working with the writers the first night. Deal?”
Delia nodded and held out her pale hand, her blood-red nails shimmering dark and evil in the fluorescent lights of the restaurant.
“Absolutely.”
Sadie slid her hand into Delia’s icy grasp. An involuntary shiver rippled through her. Funny. She figured shaking hands with the devil would be a lot warmer.