Page 21 of Risk Assessment
“Excuse me?” Raleigh could feel her blood start to boil. “Donna,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “I am happy to show Lydia the work when it’s in the finishing stages. Nothing will be published until after the event. We’ve discussed this with Lydia several times. Once we have the whole picture then we’ll present it to her. As to phrases she wants used,” Raleigh glanced down at the papers in Donna’s hand, “I’m sure she’ll be satisfied with what we write.” She didn’t want to add to Donna’s already insane workload by fighting, but this was crazy.
Donna sighed. “Be that as it may, Lydia wants you to have this.”
Raleigh cursed a blue streak in her head as she accepted the papers from Donna.
Donna turned on her heel and stormed off.
“I don’t believe this! Of all the—”
“What’s going on?” Dylan asked as he arrived at her elbow.
“Queen Lydia, that’s what! Apparently, she thinks I can write the copy for the articles about the wedding and have them to her by midnight.”
He nodded. “Sounds like her.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not going to happen.I may have to include her ideas but I do not have to include her words. If my name is going one this PR piece then it’s going to be damned professional. Not some amateur shit.” She turned and headedout of the ballroom at a good clip, and Dylan fell in behind her. “I need to talk to my boss, Max. This is beyond ridiculous. I willnotbe told what words to use. It’s my job to figure that out. To make Lydia and the rest of this crowd look good. Why the hell would she want to write the stuff? It’s not her profession. It’s literally what I was hired to do!”
Raleigh walked up the cabin’s front steps and stood in front of the door, waiting for Dylan to unlock it. She looked down at her screen, which remained black, and cursed. Max wasn’t responding.
“You going to be okay?” Dylan asked.
She was bone-crushingly tired. Everything was catching up with her. The stalker, Jenn being Dylan’s fiancée, now Lydia’s request. “It’s been a long day with a lot of ups and downs,” she said, not really looking at him. She typed out another message to Max. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod as he opened the door. He seemed distant, distracted. Great. Now he thought she was psychoandhad an anger problem.
She entered the cabin and shivered. It was frigid. “It’s cold in here. I thought you turned the AC off before we left.”
“I did,” he said as he walked over to the thermostat. “It’s set to 60. Someone must have turned it back on again.” He looked around the room.
She shivered again. “Well, they probably have turn-down service. Maybe the guy turned it on when he came to leave the chocolates or whatever.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered as he took a tour of the two front rooms. He checked behind the sofa and then the island in the kitchen.
“Well, I’m going to bed.” Raleigh started down the hallway.
Another wave of exhaustion hit her as she marched toward the bedroom.
“Raleigh, wait! I need to check the rooms first.”
She paused at the doorway of her room and hit the light switch. Something caught her eye and she froze. There on the dresser, in the middle of the vase of white flowers she’d so admired earlier, was a rose.
One. Blood. Red. Rose.
CHAPTER NINE
The scream caught in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart seemed to be clawing its way out of her chest as a ring of darkness closed in on her vision. Finally, she let out a strangled sound.
“Raleigh? Are you okay?”
Dylan’s voice seemed to be coming from a great distance. The huge stone that seemed to be blocking her throat wouldn’t budge enough for her to respond. Her field of vision shrank until all she saw was the red, red rose.
She slipped toward the floor and then she was floating. What was going on?
“I’ve got you. I’m going to put you on the bed, okay?”
No!She screamed it in her head, but she only managed to make a sort of mewling noise out loud. Dylan’s strong arms around her dislodged the boulder blocking her windpipe and she drew in a long, deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to speak. Her vision brightened suddenly, and the world, which had been spinning, came to a crashing halt.
“No! Not on the bed,” she rasped out. “Take me to the other room.” She looked up at him. “Please.”
He nodded and carried her into his room. He attempted to put her on the bed, but she couldn’t make her hands let go of his shirt. She’d fisted the front—something she had no memory of doing—and now she couldn’t seem to control her hands enough to make them let go.
