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Chapter Sixteen
My phone chimed earlyin the morning. I’d think it was Anne, but it was the default tone, not our custom one.
You up?The name on the screen saidPersistent Asshole.
The label I’d given him when he was calling every few weeks trying to buy my business. I should update that to have his real name.Depends on who this is ;)
My phone rang seconds after I hitSend.
“Your concierge and tour guide for the day,” Kingston said the instant I answered.
Maybe I wouldn’t change the name on his contact, though I might add a smiley face at the end. “What if I have other plans?”
“Cancel them. What I have for you is a million times better.”
“Which is...?”
“A surprise.”
Nope. “I don’t do surprises.”
“Oh.” He managed to encompassdeflatedin a single syllable. “In that case, I have a friend in management at Digital Media, and he’s screening their new game for a few people.”
It wasn’t strawberries in the rain, and it wasfraternizing with the enemy. But it did sound fun. Besides, I wanted to see him and I wasn’t actually doing anything else. “Is it any sort of conflict of interest that some of my closest friends work for the competition?”
“Was it when you catered for DM?”
No. “I take a non-disclosure agreement seriously.”
“Then it’s not a problem now. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes, and we’ll get breakfast first.” He made the decision sound so simple.
But wasn’t it?
Thirty minutes was both way too much time, since I was already up and dressed for the day, and not nearly enough to sift through my entire closet for a different outfit that looked sexy-cute without looking like I was trying too hard.
A skirt was tempting, especially the plaid one hanging in the back, but not in front of other people. Especially not people I did business with.
I settled on a sun dress that flared out under my breasts, and a crop sweater. Mickey Mouse ears decorated the dress—I would be the perfect blend of playful and professional.
My doorbell chiming saved me from second-guessing the decision. I grabbed my purse and phone, and headed downstairs to answer.
When I opened the door, Kingston whistled. “My memory always understates how gorgeous you are,” he said.
“Thank you.” I’d need to practice accepting praise, if they were going to keep showering me with it. When did I make the shift from questioning everything kind they said to believing they meant it? Was I letting my guard down too quickly?
