Merry Gentry 03 - Seduced by Moonlight by Laurell K. Hamilton
Authors: Laurell K. Hamilton
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it." He frowned, and the happiness slipped out of his eyes. "I think if her husband wasn't dead . . . I mean, they seemed to imply that she could get pregnant some other time."
I gave him wide eyes. "An abortion?"
"They never said it out loud, but it was there in the air." He shivered and hugged me so close I couldn't see his face anymore. "When Maeve reminded them that her husband was dead barely a month, and this would be the only chance she had to have his baby, they apologized. They said they never meant to imply any such thing. They sat there and lied." He kissed the top of my head. "How could they do that to her? I thought she was their big star."
I hugged him tighter, pressing myself against his body as if I could take that hurt out of his voice. "Maeve dropped two movies while her husband died of cancer. I guess they were looking forward to having their cash cow back at work."
Galen laid his chin against my hair. "I couldn't imagine doing what they did to her today, to anyone, for any reason. They were all hints, and looks, and never just saying what they meant, and then outright lies." He shivered again. "I don't understand that."
And that was the problem. Galen truly didn't understand how anyone could be so mean. To survive in most arenas of power you must first understand that everyone lies, everyone cheats, and no one is your friend. The paradox is that not everyone lies, and not everyone cheats, and some people are your friends. The problem lies in the fact that one smiling face and handshake looks much like another, and when you're surrounded by consummate liars, how to tell the truth from the lie, friend from foe? Better to treat everyone professionally, pleasantly, smile, nod, be friendly, but never be friends. Because there is no way to tell who is on your side, not really. Galen couldn't grasp that concept. I needed someone who could.
I turned my face enough to see Doyle standing on the other side of the room. He was cool and dark, but he reminded me not of a drink that would quench my needs, but rather a weapon that would protect all I loved.
I stood there wrapped in Galen's arms, but my eyes were for Doyle, and Frost watched us all. Frost, whom I'd begun to love for the first time. Frost who had finally figured out he needed to be jealous of Galen, and had always been jealous of Doyle. The fey are not supposed to be jealous in the way humans are, but glancing into Frost's grey eyes, I was beginning to think that perhaps the sidhe had become more human than they realized.
CHAPTER 6
The golden goddess of Hollywood lay curled into a ball on top of the satin comforter that covered her round king-size bed. It was the bed she'd shared with the late Gordon Reed for more than twenty years. I'd suggested that maybe she could move to a new bedroom until she got over some of her grief. She'd given me a look so scathing that I'd never suggested it again.
Her suit jacket, the color of goldenrods, lay forlorn on the floor. The boots—made of leather so soft, it seemed to still breathe on its own—were scattered, as if she'd thrown them when she undressed. She was still wearing the slacks that matched the jacket, and the copper-colored vest that had been the only shirt she'd worn. The headband that had matched the vest, perfectly, was the last thing dropped by the bed. Her hair lay free and disarrayed across the edge of the bed. The hair was still the color of soft butter, which meant as upset as she was, she was still wasting magic for her glamour. The glamour that had let her pass for human for a hundred years since she was exiled from faerie. For fifty of those years she'd been the golden goddess of Hollywood, Maeve Reed. For untold centuries before that she'd been the goddess Conchenn.
Behind the closed door of the bedroom her personal assistant was in tears, wringing her hands, helpless. Maeve had kicked her out. Nicca had stood next to the door with his long brown hair and pale brown skin. Even his eyes
I gave him wide eyes. "An abortion?"
"They never said it out loud, but it was there in the air." He shivered and hugged me so close I couldn't see his face anymore. "When Maeve reminded them that her husband was dead barely a month, and this would be the only chance she had to have his baby, they apologized. They said they never meant to imply any such thing. They sat there and lied." He kissed the top of my head. "How could they do that to her? I thought she was their big star."
I hugged him tighter, pressing myself against his body as if I could take that hurt out of his voice. "Maeve dropped two movies while her husband died of cancer. I guess they were looking forward to having their cash cow back at work."
Galen laid his chin against my hair. "I couldn't imagine doing what they did to her today, to anyone, for any reason. They were all hints, and looks, and never just saying what they meant, and then outright lies." He shivered again. "I don't understand that."
And that was the problem. Galen truly didn't understand how anyone could be so mean. To survive in most arenas of power you must first understand that everyone lies, everyone cheats, and no one is your friend. The paradox is that not everyone lies, and not everyone cheats, and some people are your friends. The problem lies in the fact that one smiling face and handshake looks much like another, and when you're surrounded by consummate liars, how to tell the truth from the lie, friend from foe? Better to treat everyone professionally, pleasantly, smile, nod, be friendly, but never be friends. Because there is no way to tell who is on your side, not really. Galen couldn't grasp that concept. I needed someone who could.
I turned my face enough to see Doyle standing on the other side of the room. He was cool and dark, but he reminded me not of a drink that would quench my needs, but rather a weapon that would protect all I loved.
I stood there wrapped in Galen's arms, but my eyes were for Doyle, and Frost watched us all. Frost, whom I'd begun to love for the first time. Frost who had finally figured out he needed to be jealous of Galen, and had always been jealous of Doyle. The fey are not supposed to be jealous in the way humans are, but glancing into Frost's grey eyes, I was beginning to think that perhaps the sidhe had become more human than they realized.
CHAPTER 6
The golden goddess of Hollywood lay curled into a ball on top of the satin comforter that covered her round king-size bed. It was the bed she'd shared with the late Gordon Reed for more than twenty years. I'd suggested that maybe she could move to a new bedroom until she got over some of her grief. She'd given me a look so scathing that I'd never suggested it again.
Her suit jacket, the color of goldenrods, lay forlorn on the floor. The boots—made of leather so soft, it seemed to still breathe on its own—were scattered, as if she'd thrown them when she undressed. She was still wearing the slacks that matched the jacket, and the copper-colored vest that had been the only shirt she'd worn. The headband that had matched the vest, perfectly, was the last thing dropped by the bed. Her hair lay free and disarrayed across the edge of the bed. The hair was still the color of soft butter, which meant as upset as she was, she was still wasting magic for her glamour. The glamour that had let her pass for human for a hundred years since she was exiled from faerie. For fifty of those years she'd been the golden goddess of Hollywood, Maeve Reed. For untold centuries before that she'd been the goddess Conchenn.
Behind the closed door of the bedroom her personal assistant was in tears, wringing her hands, helpless. Maeve had kicked her out. Nicca had stood next to the door with his long brown hair and pale brown skin. Even his eyes
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