Free Three Fates by Nora Roberts Page B

down his nose at her?
    He didn’t know anything about her, who she was, what she was, what she needed. If he thought her feelings got bruised because of one rude comment, he was underestimating her.
    She’d spent nearly her entire life as an outcast from her own family. A stranger’s opinion didn’t matter to her.
    She’d get him his proof, and he’d pay her price. She’d sell him the statue. She didn’t know why the hell she’d kept the damn thing all these years anyway.
    Good luck for her she had, she decided. The little lady was going to get her home and give her some breathing space until she snagged a few auditions.
    She’d have to shine the thing up. Then she’d sweet-talk Marcella into letting her use that little digital camera and the computer. She’d take a picture, then send it through, print it out. Sullivan wouldn’t know where it came from, and he’d never guess she had what he wanted tucked in her purse for safekeeping.
    Figured he was dealing with a loser, did he? Well, he was sure going to find out different.
    She shifted as they made the turn toward her building. “Come by the club,” she said without looking at him.
    “Bring cash. We’ll do business.”
    “Cleo.” He clamped a hand on her wrist as she pushed open the cab door. “I apologize.”
    “For what?”
    “For making an insulting comment.”
    “Forget it.” She climbed out, headed straight toward her building. Funny, she thought, the apology had gotten under her skin even more than the insult.
    She turned on her heel and headed down the block again without going back to her apartment. She’d go to the club a little early, she decided. After a quick stop for some silver polish.
     
     
    IT WAS STILL shy of seven when she walked in. She skirted the stage and headed down the short hall that led to Marcella’s office. Marcella answered the knock with a quick bark that made Cleo wince.
    Asking Marcella for a favor was always problematic, but asking when Marcella was in a snarly mood could be downright dangerous.
    Still, Cleo poked her head into the ruthlessly organized office. “Sorry to interrupt.”
    “If you were sorry, you would not interrupt.” Marcella continued to hammer at the computer keyboard on her desk. “I have work. I am a businesswoman.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “What do you know? You dance, you strip. This is not business. Business is papers and figures and brains,” she said, tapping a finger on the side of her head. “Anybody can strip.”
    “Sure, but not everybody can strip so people will pay to watch. Your door’s increased since I stepped onstage and took my clothes off in here.”
    Marcella peered over the straight rims of her half-glasses. “You want raise?”
    “Sure.”
    “Then you’re stupid to ask for one when I’m busy and in bad mood.”
    “But I didn’t,” Cleo pointed out, and closed the door behind her. “You asked. I just want a favor. A very small favor.”
    “No extra night off this week.”
    “I don’t want a night off. In fact, I’ll trade you an extra hour onstage for the favor.”
    Now Marcella gave Cleo her full attention. The books could wait. “I thought it was a small favor.”
    “It is, but it could be important to me. I just want to borrow your digital camera for one picture, and your computer to send it. It’ll take, what, ten minutes. You get an hour back. That’s a good trade.”
    “You send a picture out for another job? You want to use my things to get work in another club?”
    “No, it’s not for a job. Christ.” Cleo huffed out a breath. “Look, you gave me a break when I was in trouble. You gave me some professional pointers and helped me through the first night’s queasies. You dealt straight with me. You deal straight with everybody. Going behind your back to a competitor isn’t how I pay that back.”
    Marcella pursed her slick red lips, nodded. “What do you need to take a picture of?”
    “It’s just a thing. It’s a business deal.”