She leaned back in the ridiculous executive leather chair they had given her and cursed Jake Conrad with a peculiarly comforting fluency. After a few minutes her rage subsided, and Vanessa's eyes narrowed as she began to think constructively. She was not going to let him get away with it. She felt determination clench in her spine. Jake Conrad had slapped her face and she was damned well going to slap his. Metaphorically. How? She had neither the money nor the power to—oh, she wished she had the money to buy Fraser Valley Helicopter and throw it casually down in front of him! That would feel good! That would probably be worth a few diamond bracelets, all right! Diamonds... the nerve of him comparing her to the kind of woman who would ask for jewellery on Sunday morning! Diamonds! As if she—how would he feel if a woman handed over a little velvet box the morning after with a couple of garish jewelled cuff links in it?
