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“You can’t say that, Joseph. You don’t own the press,” she said.
I bit back a laugh because money had bought me lots of things in the past, the press included.
“I’ll call you after work,” I said as I bent down to give her a kiss good-bye. “I can see my way out, but please lock the door behind me.”
“Maybe I’ll leave it wide open,” she teased, knowing that her response would torment me.
“Don’t make me hire security to stand outside your door, Sutton. I will,” I threatened, but it wasn’t an empty threat, and we both knew it.
“Go to work!” she yelled.
And I left her and my heart in her apartment.
“Call Kayla,” I said as I started my car, and the phone rang through the speakers.
“I swear to God, you’d better be on your way back here,” Kayla said when she answered.
“I am, but I need to make two detours first,” I said, and she groaned.
“You are making my job very difficult. You know how much I hate rescheduling meetings and calls, especially when they’re overseas.”
“I know, but this is important. Tell them that a personal emergency came up. They’ll be pissed, but they’ll understand. I’ve never used that as an excuse before,” I instructed as I checked my mirrors and put on my turn signal.
“What are you doing, boss? At least tell me, so I can either be pissed or impressed,” she said as I pulled out into traffic, annoyed at how crowded the streets were in the middle of the afternoon.
What the hell were all these people doing, driving around?
“I’m going to thePostand then to Sutton’s work.”
Kayla exhaled loudly into the phone, and it made a horrible noise throughout my car. “Impressed it is,” she finally said.
“Since I’ll be in the car for a few, why don’t you try to get London back on the line, and I’ll talk to them now?”
It worked out perfectly. My conversation with my contacts in London ended right as I pulled into thePost’s parking structure. Cutting the engine, I exited the car and straightened my suit before walking inside the building with basically no plan.
I was met with security as soon as I entered.
“Can I help you?”
“I need to see Daisy Darling,” I said, almost snickering at the clearly made-up name.
“Is she expecting you?” he asked as he scanned a clipboard filled with printed-out pages.
“She is not.”
Before I could add anything else to my response, he pointed me toward a desk where a lone female sat behind a computer.
I walked over.
“Hi there. How can I help you?”
“I need to see Daisy Darling,” I repeated the request. “She is not expecting me, but she will want to see me. Please tell her that Joseph Martin would like to speak with her.”
As soon as my name left my lips, the woman straightened her back and turned uncomfortable. “Of course. One second while I ring her line,” she said, clearing her throat.
I tapped my fingers on the desk and waited.
“She’ll see you. Take the elevator up to floor seven.” She waved a hand in the direction of a bank of elevators before handing me a sticky paper. “Here’s your guest pass. Please make sure you wear it someplace visible at all times.”
