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“It’s for the children’s hospital . That was part of the reason I invited you to accompany me. After all the buzz your article created about using Mailbox for storing medical records, I wanted to put some feelers out to the hospitals and local doctors to see how they felt about it.
“And the insurance companies too, right?”
“If possible, yes. Although, please be sure to speak only on your own behalf and not on behalf of the company, I don’t want them thinking we’re making promises we can’t keep.” The look he turns on me should be scary. Brows drawn, blue eyes piercing, every inch of my skin under his scrutiny. It’s the same look I’ve seen him cast on department directors, vendors and competing software CEO’s—the look that’s earned him a reputation as a shark in business.
But I don’t melt under his gaze. I don’t tuck my tail and squirm. Maybe it’s because, at this point, it feels like everything that could possibly go wrong already has, and I have no fucks left to give. Maybe it’s the way his eyes drop to my lips for a split second. Instead of frightening me into submission, his steely gaze lights a fire in my belly.
Straightening up in my seat, I stare right back. “I’m not an idiot, sir. I know not to make verbal agreements on a night like tonight. I’m well aware that I am just a lowly—” I catch myself before I say receptionist, “writer. I promise not to embarrass the company, Mr. Sutton. Is there anything else? Would you like me to walk two feet behind you at all times? Or never let your glass sit empty?”
Some of Sophie’s pent up anger at Jake is leaking out into my Elinor persona, but I’m too pissed off to care. Sutton leans back in his seat, regarding me with narrowed eyes. When I don’t look away, a lazy smile spreads across his features, cracking the grim set of his mouth.
“My God,” he murmurs, almost too quiet for me to hear over the noise of the limo. “You are something else Ms. Price. And no, that won’t be necessary, you may walk where you like—behind, beside, in front, or even away from me. And I’ll be sure to get my own drinks.” Sutton finishes with a smirk as he settles into the plush seat.
Chastised, I sit back as well, fiddling with my phone clutched in my hands. I turn it over and over, afraid to unlock it and see what else the universe is going to throw at me tonight.
A large, warm hand closes over my own, stilling me. “Did something on your phone upset you earlier?” His voice is surprisingly gentle. A tightening in my throat warns me not to relax.
“Could you,” I begin, but stop and clear my throat before I finish the thought. “Is there somewhere I can leave my phone? I… I don’t think I want to have it on me tonight.”
Sutton regards me for a moment, then takes the phone from me. “I can hold onto it for you, if you like.” At my nod, he slides it deep into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “Just let me know when you want it back.”
We spend the rest of the drive in silence, staring out the windows. I have no idea what’s going through his mind, but mine is a mess. Flashes of memories torment me. Every time Jake was working late or at a photoshoot. Me laughing with Lauren that he would never cheat on me because he has no game. My utterly misplaced confidence that my husband was as faithful to me as I was to him. I’ve been down this road before—I knew he cheated on me—it’s why Emma and I moved out in the first place.
But I’d convinced myself it had been a one-time thing. A fleeting moment. The reality that my dope of an ex-husband, with his beer belly and greasy face, had been in a relationship with this stunning twenty-something for years is a blow to my ego. While I was home, curled up with my book boyfriends, feeling guilty about it too, he was out with a real live girlfriend without sparing a second thought for my feelings.
I’m a fool. Doubly a fool for believing that our vows meant something. I close my eyes and wish Jake was here so I could yell and scream at him.
“We’re here,” Sutton’s deep voice pulls me back from the spiral of emotions warring inside me. “Shall we?”
Seven
Theo
Sophie, or should I say Elinor, pauses for a moment before taking my hand and stepping out of the limo. Why Sophie is masquerading as Elinor Price is beyond me. I don’t know if Lauren set this up as some kind of joke, but after watching Sophie puke in the lobby I keep waffling between being disgusted that she’s already had so much to drink, and worried about her.
I hide a grimace when she slips a flask out of her little purse and takes a swig. This is going to be a long fucking night.
“Let’s do this.” Sophie/Elinor stands ramrod straight, her purse clutched in her hands. I offer my arm again, not sure if she’ll take it, but she slides her fingers around it without hesitation.
Thinking of the flask I watched her slip back into her clutch, I lean down to whisper in her ear. “Have you eaten tonight?” If she’s going to insist on drinking, I’m going to insist she eat. Having watched her empty her stomach out into the trash can, pouring alcohol into her is only going to make this night messier. I should have insisted the limo take her home.
“I’m fine.” From her expression, you’d think there was a statistics exam waiting for us inside, not an evening of small talk and finger food. Squaring her shoulders, Sophie lets go of my arm and enters the hotel ballroom, leaving me to follow.
I didn’t get a good look at it until she stepped out of the limo, but the dark red dress she’s wearing looks like it was poured on her, highlighting her hourglass shape. While her hips and breasts are generous, her small waist begs for me to wrap my hands around it. The clothes she wears at work don’t hide her shape, but they don’t highlight it the way this dress does. Her usual June Cleaver look has been replaced by a bombshell, the glasses only adding to the mystery. Does she actually need them? Or is she trying for a reverse Clark Kent/Superman disguise?
I shake my head and we make our way around the room, navigating the banal chit chat of a few hundred moneyed souls, on an indirect path to the bar.
There’s a band playing softly in the corner. No one is drunk enough to start dancing yet, but it will happen sooner or later. Usually, I try to leave before some blonde in a tight dress and ridiculous heels traps me into dancing with her. But tonight…no. I stop that thought in its tracks. Letting myself fantasize about her in the shower was a mistake—the line between employee and boss is becoming too blurred in my mind.
“Are you normally this quiet?” Sophie interrupts my musings.
“As a general rule, I speak when I have something to say.”
“Not when you have questions? Surely even the mighty Theodore Sutton deigns to learn about the people around him? Or are we plebeians not worthy of your attention?” The second the words leave her lips her eyes go wide. I hold still, determined not to react. Her hands clap over her mouth, stifling her gasp. “I can’t believe I said that!” Her words are muffled by her hands, but I hear them loud and clear.
She’s just one more woman who sees me as nothing but a suit with a wallet. A robot without feelings. Instead of retreating, like instinct tells me to do—hide, protect, don’t let her near your inner self—I wrap my icy facade closer around me and look down my nose at her. I should never have let my guard down in the first place. Watching her from afar was obviously not enough to discover her true colors. “Are you finished, ma’am?”
Tears fill her eyes, the golden green depths of them swimming. “I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean that, I just…” She swallows hard, finally lowering her hands from her mouth. Her hands grip my forearm, stopping me from walking away. “I was angry at someone else and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. Truly.”
