Page 61 of Dirty Little Secrets
“As long as you need,” Damon says, relieved. “Take your time. I’ll be downstairs.”
“Okay.”
I hang up the phone, pick up the puzzle box, and walk over to the dining room table. Hammer in hand. I’m usually a patient person. I enjoy the satisfaction that accompanies a test, a challenge. There’s a time and place for patience. I pick up the hammer, swinging it back. That time’s not now.
Splinters and slivers of wood shoot out into the air as I smash the hammer against the puzzle box. One hit, and it’s broken. Shattered to pieces.
Tossing the hammer to the side, I flick away the cracked panels and fish out a red velvet pouch. Plus another handwritten note.
If you’re reading this, darling, I know you better than you think I do. - Q
What does that mean? He doesn’t know me. We’ve barely spoken. Nonsense. All of it.
Disregarding the note, I pull open the drawstrings of the pouch and spill the contents into my hand. My eyes light up as an utterly stunning diamond necklace lands in my palm.
Oh my…
The white gold necklace is set with baguette and round diamonds. I hold it up to the light, a kaleidoscope of colors shining back at me. I can see why the doctor set a deadline. This necklace is meant forspecial occasions, for nights that are undoubtedly memorable.
Delicately, I unclasp the necklace and place the diamonds around my neck. It feels heavy and cold against my skin, but it’s comfortable. So comfortable. As if it was made for my body, my flesh.
Now I’m ready.
With a white fur stole draped over my bare shoulder, I make my way outside toward the stretch limousine parked out front. It’s obnoxious and over the top, but it’s what’s expected of these people.
He’d show up in a carriage made of gold and pulled by Pegasus if he could.
Damon smiles at me, adjusting his bow tie as I approach him. “You look gorgeous, Emery,” he says, his admiring gaze sweeping the length of my evening gown. “Simply stunning.”
“Thank you,” I say, nodding down to his tailed black tuxedo, the edges of his lapels coated in glistening silk. “As do you.”
“Thank—” He halts, suspiciously staring at the necklace. “I don’t remember?—”
“Do you like it?” I ask, placing my hand on the gems. I don’t need more conflict. Not today. “I saw it in the store and couldn’t resist. Miranda said tonight’s one of the biggest social events in Manhattan. I figured I should fit in with all the Kennedys and Rockefellers.”
“You bought it?” he asks, powering down, shoulders relaxing. “It’s…lovely.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, offering him a kind smile and nodding to the limo. “Shall we?”
“After you.” Damon opens the door for me, and I slide inside. He settles down beside me, reaching for two champagne flutes and a bottle of sparkling cider. “I know it’s not the same but…” He pops open the bottle, filling our glasses to the top. He hands me one. “To our first public outing.”
“As representatives of Cavanaugh Industries,” I add, ensuring there’s no confusion as to how we are to present ourselves this evening. I already anticipate the media will do a deep dive into my past given my new and rather sudden title. The last thing I need is speculation about my qualifications and relationship with the CEO. I clink his glass. “Cheers.”
Damon takes a sip, peering up at me through the glass. “You seem nervous,” he notes. “You have no need to be.”
“Says the man with decades of media training,” I say, tapping my nails against the stem of the flute. “I’m not nervous, I just…” I swallow. “I can’t say I ever dreamed of walking a red carpet.”
Damon grins. “This isn’t the Oscars, Miss Jones. It’s a fundraiser.”
I tilt my head. “Miranda hasn’t shut up about this fundraiser all week. She sent me a list of celebrities who have attended previous years. It might as well be the Oscars.”
“It’s a gala. Nothing more.” Damon rolls his eyes. “Miranda tends to embellish. I would take what she says with a grain of salt.”
“If you say so,” I hum, unable to shake the feeling that I know Miranda from before my first day of work. “Is Miranda from Connecticut? I swear I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I can’t remember where.”
Damon smirks. “You have seen her.”
I frown. “I have?”
