Page 82 of Scandalous Secrets

“It’s madness over here,” she groaned.

“Please. I need you.”

She sighed. “I can meet you in thirty.”

“Really?” I asked, hopeful.

“Really, but you owe me.”

“Okay. Meet me at Maison Pickel. My treat.”

“You bet your ass it is,” she said before hanging up.

I smiled as I slid my phone into the inner pocket of my jacket. If I didn’t have Erica, I didn’t know what I would do. I should have talked to her about everything sooner. Then maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so messy. She always had good advice, for being my younger sister. Even though she often didn’t follow her own.

I stood from my seat and stepped out of my office. I saw Monica grabbing her lunchbox from the side of her desk. I noticed she had started packing her lunch when we had ended things weeks ago. I knew she ate alone in the breakroom, probably to avoid me. I wondered if we could ever get back to some sort of normal where we could enjoy lunch together again. Although it would be very hard for me to refrain from my hand exploring underneath the table at our usual corner booth at Ocean Prime.

“I’m off to lunch,” I said, the words awkwardly falling off my tongue and matching the uncomfortable stance I held in front of her desk. I rocked on my heels waiting for her to say something. Anything.

“Okay,” she replied, completely disinterested.

“With Erica.” I clarified. I didn’t want her to think I was going out with Veronica or something. I knew her level of trust in me was practically at the bottom floor of this building.

“Great.” She stood and walked past me, down the hallway toward the breakroom.

I watched her go, her chestnut hair swishing down her back as she walked, looking professionally cute in a linen pantsuit. That was another thing that changed. Besides packed lunches, the tight skirts and low-cut blouses had ceased to be a part of her wardrobe. It didn’t make me want her any less. I would want her if she wore a potato sack.

Someone cleared their throat nearby. I looked up and saw Kathy looking at me curiously.

“Yes?” I asked, annoyed.

It was like she was always lurking around corners, but luckily for me, absolutely nothing was going on with Monica. At least, not anymore, so she had no leg to stand on. Other than the fact that I liked looking at my personal assistant.

“I’m off to a meeting with your father. Any message you’d like me to give him?” she asked.

Of course, she was. She had weekly meetings with him every Monday. I often wondered who she really worked for. She had more meetings with him than she did with me, her boss.

“No message.”

Other than,keep my ex-wife away from any and all family get-togethers. But that would be a discussion for another time. He wouldn’t be the issue. My mother, on the other hand, was a different story. I had to convince her that ship had sailed, and any attempt of trying to get us back together would fail miserably.

Kathy nodded and walked away, slipping back into her office. I rode the elevators down and hailed a cab. The restaurant wasn’t far from my building, but it had started to snow, and I had no desire to trudge through it.

I arrived at the restaurant five minutes later, tightening my coat as I made the short walk from the cab to the doors. This New York winter was relentless. It seemed to mimic my personal life perfectly. I wondered when the cold front would ever let up.

In the warmth of the restaurant, I asked the hostess for a table for two by the window. I didn’t like being in the snow, but I liked watching it fall. I ordered a glass of red wine to warm me up, and waited for Erica to get there. Halfway through my glass, she walked up to the table breathless, her face red.

“Did you run here?” I asked with amusement.

“Practically. The nearest subway station was like a block away.”

“Why didn’t you just take a cab?” I asked.

“Because the subway is cheaper.”

I shook my head at her. The daughter oftheBryce Gunner was penny-pinching. I was surprised she had even come to the beach house in the Bahamas. Part ownership was really the only thing she had ever accepted from my father. She probably flew coach, instead of using another of my father’s jets.

She signaled for the server as she took off her scarf.

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