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I sigh, hesitating at the door. It seems I’m still a topic of conversation whether I like it or not. I’ve been ignoring the gossip for the most part, hoping that it will just die down but it doesn’t look like it’s doing anything of that sort. Instead, like a hydra, it seems to be growing more heads, more threads to the drama.
Last time, I overheard someone say that I don't just sleep with clients, that I broke up a couple of marriages too. Another one said they heard I had a daughter out of wedlock and I was purposefully keeping him from his father and collecting child support. Like I would be here if that was the case. And the rumors just kept multiplying as time went on.
But then, talking to those spreading them would mean confrontation in the workplace and that just isn’t my thing. I don’t want to ruffle feathers when I just got here. Especially now that everything is finally looking up. I don’t have to make friends here or anything, either. I just want to work and go home to my daughter, damn it. Is that too much to ask?
“Oh, and I saw her with the boss at Pierson's gala. And the little slut was really in her element, you know? She only talked to the rich guys and you could tell she was totally flirting. Right in front of Maddox too. And he did nothing. I can’t believe he’s such a simp for her, it's so sad.”
I smile wryly. Well, at least if it's any consolation, Maddox is not getting out of this unscathed either. He's losing the suave lover boy reputation and I can't wait to see his face when he finds out that this is going to backfire on him too.
I wait outside until the laughter and whispers die down before I go in. I wash my hands, and arrange my hair, trying not to be bothered by the words.They mean nothing to you, I remind myself.Their words especially mean nothing to you. You don’t even know them and they don’t know you.
You have a multi-million-dollar house to close, so go do that and go be a superhero.
A few minutes later, I get into my car and work on my pitch during the thirty-minute drive. By the time I arrive at the restaurant, I’m confident of every question I’m going to ask.
I walk into the cottage-themed restaurant, scanning the wooden tables. I wonder faintly if I should call and ask Maddox what Nixon’s PA looks like….until my gaze meets that of a stern-faced man staring right at me. He’s also sitting next to another man whose face is shielded with a hoodie and glasses. Upon closer inspection, I recognize him to be Harry Nixon himself.
Oh my God. I didn’t think Nixon would be at this meeting. That just upped my anxiety by a thousand.
I swallow my nerves and smile as I approach them.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m Ava, the agent from Reign and Associates. You must be Taylor?”
“I am,” the stern-faced man says as he shakes my extended hand. I turn to Nixon but I hesitate. I don’t know if I’m supposed to refer to him directly or draw attention to him. I don’t want to blow his cover so I just nod. “It’s nice to meet you too sir.”
It must be the right move because Nixon’s lip twitches a little and he nods back.
“I’m so sorry, if I’m late,” I say, “I thought the appointment was at four. Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“No, you’re fine,” Nixon gives me a friendly smile in return while his assistant doesn’t crack a smile. “We wanted to eat here anyway so we decided to come a little early.”
“Oh, okay, good.” I slip into my seat. “Well then, I don’t want to take any more of your time. Why don’t you start by telling me what exactly it is you’re looking for?”
Nixon opens his mouth to answer, but we’re interrupted by the blaring of a phone. My phone. I instantly flush in embarrassment.
I can’t believe I didn’t put my phone on silent.
I immediately dive for my bag searching for my phone with a nervous laugh. Harry Nixon raises an eyebrow and Taylor looks unimpressed.
“I’m so sorry I forgot to turn the ringer off. Give me a moment.” I shuffle around a little before my hand closes around the phone pulling it out of my bag. I frown when I see the caller ID on my screen.
It’s Sasha, Mimi’s babysitter.
I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to end the call. Sasha knows not to call me unless it’s something she can’t handle—and she’s pretty resourceful. What if it’s an emergency?
“Sorry, I have to take this,” I give them an apologetic look and get up, heading out to answer.
"Hi Sasha, what’s going on?”
“Mrs. Lawrence! Oh my God, Mrs. Lawrence.”
Sasha isn’t one for hysterics and my heart immediately drops into my stomach. “What’s wrong, Sasha?”
“It’s Mimi. She just passed out.”
And just like that the concern turns into a full-blown panic.
"What do you mean, she passed out?” I hear myself scream even though I don’t consciously utter those words. My ears hear crashing waves and burning rubber as I pull out of the parking lot and shift into drive, on autopilot, every conscious thought focused on getting to my daughter as fast as possible. Fear and pure adrenaline pump through me.
