“What’s wrong? Did you think I’d bail?” he asked.
“No!” I lied. “I’m just…excited. Why don’t I show you up to the conference room?”
He nodded, but I caught his eyes wandering down the length of my body. It seemed that he liked the way my skirt hugged my curves. I couldn’t help thinking he would probably like it a whole lot more if it was shoved up around my waist.
“Lead the way,” he said, a wolfish gleam in his eyes.
We stepped into the elevator and suddenly Ford was all business, going over all the main points he’d be covering in his presentation. “It runs just under an hour long, and then I figured I’d just take as many questions as we have time for.”
“Sounds perfect,” I said.
The doors dinged open and we stepped into DRM’s offices. Ford frowned a little as I led him down the hall toward the large conference room I’d reserved.
“Do you not worry that some of the women might have a hard time being here?” he asked, glancing around. “I mean, with everything that happened before…with your father, and the agency…I don’t know, maybe they’d have some kind of post-traumatic stress?”
I nodded, impressed that he’d given the issue some real thought.
“That’s actually the whole reason I hold most of our classes over at the studio space nearby. But it doesn’t have the audio-visual setup that we need today, and since you’re speaking about business, it seemed the more appropriate venue.
“Don’t worry, though—the email I sent out specifically mentioned that we’d be in the agency’s offices for your seminar, and I called all the girls who signed up to confirm that they were comfortable with the location. So we’re good to go.”
“That was smart of you,” Ford said. “And compassionate.”
I felt my stomach do a little twist at the compliments. “Thanks. And here we are.”
After I opened the door, I gestured for him to enter first.
The conference room was mostly ready, with a projector and a screen and some cables laid out so Ford could plug in his laptop and get started. As he set up, clicking through a few files and getting his PowerPoint open, I took a seat in the far corner and set down my bag.
“We have water, but do you want me to grab you a coffee before the girls arrive?” I said.
“Thanks, but I’m properly caffeinated for the day,” he said, and then seemed to notice my bag and notebook on the chair. “Are you staying for the whole thing?”
“Yes,” I said. “Is that a problem?”
“Why, Mrs. Malone,” he said, smiling. “Do you not trust me to run this workshop?”
“Why, Mr. Malone,” I responded. “Do you think this program would have survived after the very first guest lecture if I didn’t sit in?”
It wasn’t just that I was there to keep the speaker on track—there was always the very real concern that some of my girls might have a hard time relaxing with a man in charge of the room and only other models around. Choosing a safe venue was only half the battle. After all, the male power dynamic was exactly what had harmed most of these ex-models in the not-too-distant past. My goal was to help them, not put them in situations where it would be difficult for them to focus and therefore succeed.
Everyone knew this wasn’t a Jeffrey Epstein/Ghislaine Maxwell situation, that I wasn’t grooming them to be passed off to someone like my father—they knew I would do everything in my power to keep them safe. But that also meant I was often a bit overprotective.
I didn’t care. I would fight to the death to keep them feeling safe.
Which also meant I was going to give Ford a little talking-to.
Because as much as I didn’t want to bring down the mood, I knew what an incorrigible flirt my husband could be. I couldn’t think of a time I’d seen him interact with a woman without pouring on the charm. It didn’t matter if she was a fresh faced co-ed or a grandmother with a dozen grandkids. Ford saw a female and instantly turned on the charm.
That wouldn’t work here. He couldn’t flirt with the girls. He couldn’t give off any kind of sexually charged dynamic.
“So listen. I just want to reiterate that they’ve been through a lot,” I said, walking over to him. “And some of them are uncomfortable around men. It’s one of the reasons I prefer to have women teach the workshops.”
Ford nodded. “I get it. Really.”
“Good,” I said, relieved. “I just want you to understand where the girls are coming from.”
He nodded again, but before we could talk more, the door to the conference room opened and the girls began trickling in. They smiled at me, but when they saw Ford, I noticed a few of their smiles faltering.
