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“No. You called me out. I want to know why.”
“I was wrong. Stupid thing to say.” When her cheeks flushed red, I knew that whatever she was referring to had something to do with Cortez. So, yes, I’d drop it.
“We’re meeting at Five Hertford.”
Her eyebrows went up practically to her hairline.
“That’s what I thought. I know it makes me sound awful, but what’s his connection?”
“I’ll see what I can find out, but whatever it is, must be a closely guarded secret or I’d already know.”
I’d never had any secrets from Teagon, but the idea that Cortez or any of her other colleagues knew everything about me, pissed me off. Not that I could do anything about it. I was connected to the Queen, and my life had always been an open book—to SIS anyway.
“What time are you meeting?”
“Eight.”
Teagon said she’d make the necessary security arrangements for my meeting with Mulrooney. However, neither she nor any of the other security people would be permitted entrance to the club. Perhaps if the Queen herself was dining there, her team would be permitted entrance, but she’d never put herself or the other members of Five Hertford through that sort of thing.
I hadn’t been to the club since my grandfather passed away. My eyes filled with tears when I walked through the unmarked door after the maître d’ opened it.
“Miss Whitby, it is such a pleasure to see you again.” The man and I cheek-kissed. “We miss your grandparents very much.”
Not more than I. “Thank you, Ford.”
“I believe you’re meeting Mr. Mulrooney. He’ll be waiting in the lounge, Miss.”
I thanked him again and followed him to the spiral staircase that would take me downstairs. I would typically avert my eyes when walking past the various dining rooms, but when a familiar feeling came over me, I couldn’t
help but look. In the corner, sat Cortez with a strikingly beautiful woman I didn’t recognize. He was so enthralled by whatever she was saying, he didn’t look up and see me.
“I’ve a request that we not be seated in the library this evening. I wouldn’t normally make a fuss, but in this case, I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d arrange for us to sit elsewhere.”
“Yes, Miss Whitby.”
I knew from his response that the library was exactly where our table had been reserved. I couldn’t possibly sit in the same room with Cortez and another woman. If there was no other option, I’d be forced to feign illness and leave.
Lincoln Mulrooney stood when he saw me approach. “You look lovely, Kensington.”
“Thank you.”
“I took the liberty,” he said, handing me a glass of wine. I took a sip and recognized it immediately as one of my favorites. It was exactly what I would’ve ordered for myself. “I was pleased to receive your call earlier,” he said, leading me to a table and pulling out a chair for me.
“You may not be when you learn what I’d like to discuss.”
“You said you had questions about the reports you receive?”
“Yes, but it was my other reason for calling that you may find harder to address.”
“About working for Whitby Press? Not in the least. Speaking for myself along with the rest of the management team as well as the members of the board, we’d be delighted to have you on staff, in whatever capacity you desire.”
“Why?”
He set his glass of wine on the table and leaned forward.
“Why, indeed. I pose the same question to you.”
“But you didn’t answer mine.”
