Page 33 of The Price of Scandal
A smile flickered across his face.
“Only when absolutely necessary,” he said, slipping a hand into his suit jacket.
Oh, God.“Is that my father’s…”
“Wallet. Yes. It seems he left it behind. Pity.”
12
Derek
Igave Emily an hour to play catch up and used the time to deliver her father’s wallet to Valerie, the attentive, ambitious assistant.
I perched on her desk, turning on my charm, and quizzed her on Ms. Stanton’s daily habits. I got very little out of the woman and nothing but smug looks from Easton, the other assistant.
I approved. These were the kinds of people someone like Emily needed to surround herself with. Loyal, sharp, immune to a handsome stranger’s sly charms.
Jane returned after terrifying the Bluewater security team, and together we commandeered a small conference room to debate—argue loudly—Emily’s new schedule since I’d taken the liberty of adding a few of the necessary appearances and activities into The Boss’s calendar.
“I’m telling you, Tea and Crumpets,” Jane said, kicking back in her chair at the head of the table. “She’s not going to go for this. You want her making an appearance Wednesday night at some concert. It’snothappening. And what billionaire CEO has time to sit through a fundraiser luncheon for—” She paged through her phone. “Oh, hang on, STEM Girls? She might actually do this. The boss loves this shit.”
“Have a little faith in me, Jane,” I insisted, drumming my fingers on the glossy wood tabletop. “And who wouldn’t want to see Beyoncé live?”
She snorted. “It’s not the Beyoncé part. It’s the Wednesday. No plans on Wednesday nights.”
“Why?”
Jane shrugged. “Ask her yourself.”
Jane was cagey, rude, and unapologetic. I liked her immensely. Plus, her not telling me things told me just as many other things. She was another loyal follower of Emily’s, which meant there was an interesting woman who earned loyalty from her team under that very shiny layer of polish.
The door opened, and the room filled with the lovely cool breeze that was Ms. Emily Stanton. “Derek,” she said, shooting Jane a look that saidyou better not be telling secrets. “Lita has time to meet with us if we head over now.”
“Head over?” I asked, catching the flash of annoyance in Jane’s eyes.
“Yes. To her office,” Emily explained as if I were a pesky five-year-old. It pleased me that I could annoy her so easily.
I rose and buttoned my jacket. “Jane, I trust you have enough to get started working out transportation and security.”
“Yeah, yeah. Pip pip cheerio,” Jane called after me.
“I like your Jane,” I told Emily as she led the way back toward the reception desk.
She shot me a wary look over her shoulder.
“What?” I pressed.
“I don’t know what you mean by that.”
I laughed. “I meant just what I said. I like her.”
“Hmm.”
We passed reception. Emily was warmer with her greeting on this pass—I took the credit for alleviating some of her stress—and I noticed the receptionist all but bloom under the fraction of friendliness.
“While I have your undivided attention,” I said, handing Emily a folder. “This is for you.”
Frowning, she flipped it open as we walked. “You already wrote a speech for the luncheon?”
