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Didn’t I just let him off the hook?
"Don't worry. I'll figure something out. Should we go back to the table?"
He nodded. "If you’re ready."
"I am."
He opened the door and gestured for me to walk in front of him. I got another whiff of his cologne as I walked past him.
Damn, the man was hot!
Pity I’d probably never see him again.
Chapter Four
Dom
"Dom, they've sent you menus for the charity weekend so you can pick out your favorite food. Should I do it for you?" my assistant Charlene asked.
"I’m not attending. I’m sure I told you that.”
“Damn it. I'd hoped you’d change your mind.”
I looked up at her. “Why?”
She shrugged. “It’s good for you to go out in the world and not stay holed up in here all the time.”
I leaned back in my chair, pushing a stack of papers to one side. I could look at them after Charlene left the office.
"Who in PR has time to attend?"
"I've made you a list." She immediately put it on the desk. "If you tell me by the end of the week who you want to go, I'll make all the arrangements."
"Anything else?" I asked.
"No, that was all."
I surveyed the list. It contained four names—the usual suspects. I was going to decide by the end of the day; I didn't need to drag my feet.
Last night had been insane. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done something as spontaneous as pretending to be Reese's date. It felt good to save her from that asshole, and I was glad the douchebag backed off. He hadn’t approached Reese for the rest of the evening.
After Charlene left, I began reading through my stack of papers again. But after I read the first three sheets twice, I realized I wasn't focusing.
I tapped the pen against the desk. Reese said she could get that guy off her back by herself, but it hadn't seemed that way last night. He was damn persistent. When she spilled that champagne on me, she'd seemed like a no-nonsense woman who wasn't going to take shit from anyone. That's why I'd been so shocked to see her cower when her ex popped up. But some people knew our vulnerabilities, giving them the power to hurt us. We all had our weak spots. And Malcolm was obviously Reese's.
Damn it. I have more important things to focus on than someone else's drama.
I opened a blank email on my laptop screen and began writing to Charlene. I'd intended to tell her to send Paul to the charity weekend. Instead, I wrote one sentence: Get me Reese Maxwell's number.
After that, I returned to my stack of reports. Surprisingly, it was much easier to focus. At least until Charlene burst into my office one hour later.
I looked straight at her. "You got it?"
She smiled nervously. "Uh, no."
I straightened up. "Why not?"
"She’s even more private than you."
