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“Alone.” It wasn’t a question. She tucked her clutch under her arm as I escorted her to the door. She kissed both of my cheeks as the French did. “William, you know I love you dearly.”
I nodded.
“I just want to see you happily settled. And that doesn’t mean marriage.”
“I know. Yes, alone on Sunday.”
“Very well. Have a lovely day.” She patted my cheek and was gone.
I returned to my executive chair, plopped onto the seat, and threw my head back. Some might have called me a manwhore. I’d bet my mother did, given her standards. But I didn’t sleep with every woman I met, sometimes it was just a drink and kissing. Most of my unsavory behaviors happened after my dad pissed me off.
That was no excuse, but it was what drove me to have the occasional one-night stand.
After my mom’s flippant comment about my track record, I held my tongue. Upsetting her with an excuse she’d somehow take personally wasn’t worth it. I adored my mother. Never would I intentionally hurt her.
But the truth was, she’d find something wrong with every woman I brought home.
The angel in red flashed in my head. I had a feeling Mumsy would like her. It was just my luck that I’d never get to find out.
Miranda
The St. James Investment Building was one of the most beautiful I’d been in. I arrived with fifteen minutes to spare, giving me plenty of time to calm down before the meeting. My sling-back kitten heels clicked on the marble floor, echoing inside the three-story lobby as I approached the security desk.
“Hello,” I greeted the guard. “My name is Miranda Bradford of LA Premier Events. I have an eleven o’clock meeting with Claire St. James.”
“Welcome, Miss Bradford. May I see some identification?”
“Absolutely.” I dug my wallet out while scanning the modern yet elegant décor: black, chrome, lots of crystal, and what I guessed was the company logo, SJI, in gold. A lot of money had been spent decorating this building.
Minutes later, I was in an elevator heading up to the twelfth floor with a mysterious, almost scary-looking man dressed in all black. Everything about him was dark, even his beard had an evil quality. He reminded me of the devil.
“You seem familiar. Have we met before?” he asked.
“No, I don’t believe we have. This is my first time here.”
He nodded, checking me out lazily. My skin crawled as he looked on me pleasurably.
The elevator dinged, and I darted out before the man in black. He lagged several feet behind me, checking out my ass no doubt. Served me right. I should have worn the A-line dress instead of the camel-and-black houndstooth pencil skirt.
Stop it, Miranda!Lily would have a massive fit. I could hear her scolding me for that thought. Of course, she’d be right. So, I shook it off. He didn’t get a pass to act like a pig no matter what I was wearing.
Once I checked in at the receptionist’s desk, I was taken to a sprawling conference room with breathtaking views of the ocean out the wall of windows. It was the sort of million-dollar view I dreamed of having.
Seated at a long glass table for twenty, I pulled out my notes and iPad, preparing to sell my designs.
Typically, I was not a praying kind of woman, but this meeting required all the help I could get. I asked the big guy upstairs to bring me favor, then I took several cleansing breaths and waited for Claire St. James and whomever else to arrive.
