Page 20 of The Price of Scandal
“When you call, I answer?” I repeated with disdain. I wanted to smash my phone into his perfect face.
None of this was happening. My carefully curated life was not suddenly spiraling out of control, dancing dangerously close to the drain. I’d just worked too hard, and now I was hallucinating.
He leaned in so close that I could feel the heat pumping off his damp skin. Oh, God. I didn’t have the imagination to hallucinate this well.
“If you don’t, you’ll lose everything,” he said.
* * *
“So he’s legit?”Jane asked as I hung up the phone.
My father wasn’t responding to my calls. He was probably still in the air. But I did get another director on the phone, and she assured me icily that Derek Price was indeed my new guardian angel and babysitter.
“It would appear so.”
I sank down at the kitchen bar and watched listlessly as Jane poured two shots of something.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Fireball,” she said. “Borrowed it from Daisy. Kind of comforting to know that billions of dollars still can’t buy a sophisticated palate. That girl has the best worst taste in booze.”
She handed me a shot glass, and for the second time that night, I drank on command.
“So here’s the plan,” Jane said. “You and I are gonna do a couple of shots, and then I’m spending the night here in case the naked burglar comes back to try out your steam shower.”
“Good plan,” I wheezed and slid my empty glass back at her. “You’ll stun gun him next time, right?”
“Promise.”
8
Derek
Ipulled my car into Emily’s crushed seashell driveway and hopped out whistling. It was a beautiful day. The humidity had broken a bit, leaving coastal Florida to enjoy the blue skies and ocean breezes. Best of all, I had a shiny new puzzle to solve.
And she was going to be very unhappy to see me.
Hands in pockets, I strolled up the winding walkway to her front door.
I could let myself in again, but I’d scandalized Emily enough yesterday. I stabbed the bell with a finger and turned my back on the door to admire the neighborhood. Bluewater was an exclusive gated enclave that, according to my research, my pretty new puzzle had developed with three of her friends. Six years ago, these 2,500 hundred acres had been little more than a swampy mess of overgrowth and trash.
Now, it was home to some of the wealthiest, most eclectic residents Miami had to offer.
They’d built something incredible here. Waterfront mansions tucked away behind lush landscaping. Meandering golf cart and bike paths. Luxurious condo buildings. A secluded marina and private airfield. Even a colorful village of exclusive boutiques and restaurants.
It was impressive.Shewas impressive.
The door opened, and the security woman from last night eyed me with suspicion. Jane Gonzalez. Only daughter of Cuban parents. She’d been active duty Marines for several years before branching out into security consulting and personal assisting.
“You’re back,” she stated, gaze lowering to my crotch.
“I’m afraid I came fully clothed this time,” I said, offering my most charming grin.
“She’ll be disappointed,” Jane predicted.
“That I’m back or that I’m wearing pants?” I quipped. Humor was one of my best weapons. I was quite charming and funny when circumstances required.
Serious Jane’s lips quirked as if they were considering a smile.
