Page 72 of Dirty Little Secrets
“Is that a yes?” I ask, flashing him a sweet smile.
“For you, little Emery, and only for you, I’m willing to share the limelight with Cavanaugh, but…” Quin’s gaze flicks over my shoulder, and I don’t even want to know how livid Damon looks right now. He grins. “I have yet to hear this infamous apology.”
“Damon?” I spin around, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Go on. Say sorry to Quinton.” Damon’s jaw ticks as he stares at me, furious. Silent. I take a step forward, keeping my voice low. “I’ve dealt you a hand,misterCavanaugh. Now it’s your turn to deal with it. Say you’re fucking sorry.” I hiss out the last word. “Now.”
I can sense the turmoil brewing inside him, thehesitation, the hatred as he opens his mouth and says, flat and gruff, “I apologize for my actions last night. It was unacceptable and unprofessional. It will never happen again.”
I mouth,thank you,to Damon before spinning around. Quinton blinks a couple of times in disbelief, and then a smug smirk clips his lips.
“Well?”
He chuckles under his breath, amused as he grins at me. “A deal is a deal.” He pauses, glancing at Damon. “I hope you have another suit.”
“It’s in my car,” I say. “We’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes, okay?”
“Sure.” Quin flashes me a playful smile as he passes, whispering, “You ambushed me, little Emery. Well played.”
“I know,” I whisper back, proud of myself.
As soon as Quinton is out of earshot, Damon growls, “What thefuck?” I roll my eyes, unlocking the trunk and pulling out a garment bag. “I can’t believe?—”
“Change,” I demand, shoving the bag into his chest. I place a bottle of eye drops into the crook of his arm. “And put these in. It’ll help.”
He grits his teeth. “You set me up, Emery. You?—”
“I stoned two birds at once,” I say, unflinching. “I meant everything I said, Damon. I really did, but I also just fixed a major problem for you, for us.” I check my watch. “The ceremony starts at nine. You need to change.”
Damon bites his tongue, keeping his emotions atbay as he begrudgingly follows me toward the side entrance. “Ten million dollars?” he hisses. “That’s?—”
“Going to help thousands of children,” I snap back, glowering at him. “Think of it as retribution for all the shitty things you’ve done.”
He doesn’t argue. He can’t. It’s a small price to pay. Smaller than I know.
THE VIOLENT HURRICANE
DAMON
“Ten million dollars?”Javier slaps today’s New York Times newspaper on my desk. “Have you lost your damn mind?!”
My gaze floats to the photograph of Quinton and me on the front page, Emery standing off to the side.
The headline reads:NovaTech Pharmaceuticals and Cavanaugh Industries Donate a Record-Breaking 40 Million Dollars to Manhattan Children’s Hospital.
No mention of my apparent assault asLife Weeklyreported yesterday. While the trashy tabloids are still reveling in my outburst, the more respectable publications have shifted focus to the opening of a new cancer wing courtesy of our donation.
Quinton managed to expertly brush off all questions regarding the altercation between us at the gala.
“Oh, it was nothing. Simply a case of backyard wrestling gone bad. I bobbed when I should have weaved. Entirely my fault.”
My jaw ticks. If it weren’t for Emery, Quinton would have paid a premium price for a front-row ticket to my inevitable demise.
“It’ll be a tax write-off,” I say, pushing the newspaper away and glaring up at Javier. “Anything else?”
He shakes his head. “You could’ve made a statement, Damon. A statement wouldn’t have cost us eight fucking figures. How do you plan to explain this to the board?”
I roll my eyes. “I cleaned up a mess that I spilled. No other explanation is required.”
“You…” Javier runs a frantic hand through his hair. “Are you purposely trying to get ousted? Is that what you’re doing? Jesus, Damon, I saidfixit, not make it worse!”
