Page 109 of Guys Can't Write Romance
The interior of the mansion was a study in tasteful opulence, with marble floors, soaring ceilings, and chandeliers that probably cost more than Daisy’s annual salary. Staff in blackand white made the rounds with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres, while a string quartet played softly in one corner.
“Ethan Sterling,” boomed a silver-haired man in his sixties, approaching with a much younger woman on his arm. “The man of the hour! Your analysis on the Crawford acquisition was impeccable.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ethan replied, his posture straightening imperceptibly. “Mr. Peterson, I’d like to introduce Daisy Fields.”
The older man barely glanced at her. “Charmed, I’m sure. Ethan, come meet Gerald from legal. He’s had some brilliant insights on the regulatory hurdles we might face.”
Before she could say more than “Nice to meet you,” Ethan was being whisked away by his boss, leaving her with Mrs. Peterson, who looked to be at least twenty years younger than her husband.
“First time at one of our little gatherings?” Mrs. Peterson asked, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
“Yes,” Daisy admitted. “It’s a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. I oversaw the latest renovation myself,” Mrs. Peterson replied. “What is it you do, Daisy?”
“I’m a first-grade teacher,” Daisy said. “And I write romance novels. I’m hoping to be published soon, actually. There’s this contest—“
“A teacher?” Mrs. Peterson’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “How... devoted of you. Though I imagine you’ll be giving that up when Ethan moves to New York? The wives of our senior executives have quite enough to manage with their charitable obligations. The Rollings Jenkins Philanthropy Committee is very active.”
“I haven’t decided about New York yet,” Daisy said carefully. “And I’d want to continue my writing, regardless.”
Mrs. Peterson’s laugh tinkled like ice. “Oh, how sweet. A little hobby to keep you occupied. Though you’ll find there’s preciouslittle time for hobbies once you’re integrated into the firm’s social calendar. We maintain a very active presence in the right circles.”
Before Daisy could come up with a response that didn’t include four-letter words, Mrs. Peterson spotted someone across the room.
“Oh, Cynthia is here! You must meet her. She’s the wife of our London office head. She runs the most marvelous charity auction each year.”
Daisy soon found herself swept into a circle of impeccably dressed women, all wearing similar expressions of polite interest that never quite reached their eyes. The conversation flowed around her, talk of summer homes in the Hamptons, boarding schools with ten-year waiting lists, charity galas that raised millions for causes that seemed more about social status than actual change.
“And what about you, Daisy?” asked a woman whose name she’d already forgotten. “Vivian mentioned you’re a teacher?”
“Yes, first grade,” Daisy replied, grasping at the familiar topic. “I love watching children discover their abilities and interests.”
“How admirable,” said another woman, her tone suggesting it was anything but. “Though certainly exhausting. I can’t imagine dealing with other people’s children all day.”
“I find it rewarding,” Daisy said firmly. “And I’m also pursuing publication as a romance novelist. I’ve self-published a few books already, and I’m entering a contest for a major publishing contract.”
For a brief moment, one woman, younger than the rest, with kind eyes, showed genuine interest. “Really? What kind of romance do you write?”
Before Daisy could answer, Mrs. Peterson cut in smoothly. “I’m sure that’s just a creative outlet until you and Ethan settledown. Speaking of which, how is the New York apartment hunt going? I hear you’ve found something in TriBeCa?”
The conversation shifted again, and Daisy found herself increasingly invisible, reduced to nodding and smiling as these women planned a life for her she wasn’t sure she wanted.
When Ethan finally returned to her side an hour later, Daisy had never been so grateful to see him.
“Sorry about that,” he said, not sounding particularly sorry. “Peterson wanted to introduce me to some key players.”
“It’s fine,” Daisy replied, trying to keep the stiffness from her voice. “I’ve had a lovely chat with the partners’ wives about all the charity committees I’ll apparently be joining in New York.”
If Ethan noticed her sarcasm, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Excellent. Networking is crucial. Speaking of New York, I got some fantastic news today.” His eyes lit with genuine enthusiasm for the first time that evening. “I found us the perfect apartment. Doorman building, sixteenth floor, views of the river. It’s a bit more than I’d originally budgeted, but with my new position’s salary—“
“You found an apartment?” Daisy interrupted. “Without me?”
Ethan blinked, momentarily thrown off his rehearsed speech. “Well, yes. These properties move quickly, and you’ve been so distracted with your writing project. I didn’t want to bother you with the details until I’d secured something suitable.”
“Suitable,” Daisy repeated flatly. “For a life I haven’t agreed to.”
“Daisy,” Ethan said, his tone shifting to one he might use with a difficult client, “we’ve discussed this. The New York position is the opportunity of a lifetime. I can’t turn it down.”
