Page 42 of Head Over Heels

A grin spreads across her face. "I didn't give you enough credit. I'm impressed."

"Don't be," I say, taking another bite of my dinner. "I'm not rich enough to hire a personal assistant, but my dad was an investment banker before he retired. Mom was Director of HR at the med school before she retired a few years ago. I attended one of your silly galas in my mom's stead a few years ago. Right before COVID."

Her eyes widen. "That was my first fundraiser as CEO."

"I remember," I say simply. She was drop-dead gorgeous in a modest—but brilliant—red dress. It was definitely not the right tone for her to set as a young, female CEO, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her hair was done up, and the curve of her neck made my mouth water. She's been the only person since Mel to make me feel like that. I felt like I was cheating on Mel for months after that.

Her eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"

"That you were memorable," I tease her, taking another sip of my margarita.

"Good or bad, memorable?"

"Considering I can still see the slope of your bare neck when I close my eyes, I wouldn't say bad."

She shakes her head, laughing. "I was so naive when I started this job. I thought I should be celebrating the power of strong women. Turns out the job is hard no matter who you are."

"More so because of dicks like Woodhouse," I point out.

She laughs. "Did you know, outside of work, he goes by Dick?"

"Sounds appropriate. Will he be gone after the gala is pulled off?"

She nods firmly. "Without a doubt. It's already been arranged." She takes a quick swig of her beer. "How was your day? What did you do after work?"

I put the image of her bare neck out of my mind. "Nothing exciting. The coin guy seemed pretty impressed with my grandfather's collection, though. Hopefully that'll pan out."

"You have a coin guy?" she asks, her interest piqued.

"Remember I told you about my grandfather's penthouse? There's a judgment against it I need to pay off before I can inherit the place."

"Please tell me this isn't turning into a legal scandal. I can't afford that kind of publicity."

"Of course not," I tell her. I sit back in my chair, sipping my margarita. "This hits the spot. Anyway, my grandfather has quite the collection of valuables, including some high-value coins. Art, gems, some rare books, even a few sculptures."

"How high-value are you talking? My brother collects rare coins," she muses. "If you decide you want another opinion, I can ask him for a recommendation."

"Engelmann wouldn't give me any numbers, so I don't know. I have a colleague who works with the Delmont Auction House, so I have a few contacts there I'm working with to determine some of its worth."

"Doesn't he have appraisals for his inventory? If it's valuable, he should have the paperwork somewhere."

"Possibly." I shrug lightly. "The lawyer didn't have a current inventory list. I haven't checked the safe deposit box downtown yet. To be honest, I haven't even gone through the place. I poked around a little, realized that a lot of stuff was expensive, and decided to take pictures and let the experts deal with it."

Marin comes in quietly to take our empty plates and slips me another margarita without a word.

"Come in the living room. We can relax there."

I sit down on the couch opposite her, putting my drink on the walnut table beside me. "Did you grow up with money like this?" I ask her curiously, looking around at her expensive furniture.

She shakes her head. "My parents were immigrants after the Second World War. Well, dad's family came at the beginning of the war. Nonna—my grandma—came here with my mom when Mom was a baby."

"Land of opportunity," I murmur with a smile.

She shakes her head. "Hard work. Our parents worked their asses off so we could get a good education. And taught us that we could do anything we chose to."

"Still, hard work isn't always enough."

"Fair enough. Anyway, I worked my ass off to get where I'm at. Never slept with a man to move ahead—just good old-fashioned hard work."

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