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“I would like to arrange for a photo shoot, and I’d like to have a video crew shoot a short video also. I’d like to film him and you together, talking about the company and its future. We’d have you walking through the office, visiting a site that’s currently under construction, highlight some of your greatest hits.”
He’s nodding agreeably. “Love it.”
We spend another twenty minutes going over our plans. It’s easy as pie, he’s incredibly well prepared, making for zero controversy to be managed, and he agrees with everything I suggest.
He’s the dream client.
When he stands up to go, he pauses and looks at me. “You could call Mason in a week or so,” he suggests.
I smile wryly. “I appreciate the thought.”
“You’re not going to call him, are you?”
I shake my head. “In all honesty, no. He made his decision perfectly clear, and he’s a big boy. He knows what he wants. And you know what? He’ll be fine, because he’s got you in his corner.”
Mr. Raker reaches out and pulls me in for a hug and for a moment, I go stiff in his arms completely caught off guard. He’s like a giant teddy bear and eventually I relax, returning the hug.
When he lets me go, I say, “Tell him one thing for me. Tell him he’s lucky to have a dad like you, and I wish mine was still with me, and he should appreciate what he has while he has it. Tell him to stop being a little shit to you, or I’ll kick his ass.”
Mr. Raker gives me a big, sad grin, and his eyes are bright with unshed tears. “Boy, he really screwed up letting you go.”Sure did.
38
ROWAN
The nightof the charity extravaganza is going off without a hitch. Our guest roster is incredible, the press is riveted, we’re making national news, and there’s a livestream on Twitter. People are gushing about the game amazing, and the celebrities’ outfits, and a new celebrity couple who chose tonight to publicly reveal that they’re together. It’s been incredible. We are even getting some cross-promotion, since our client Shyne sang and signed autographs before the opening of the game.
It’s bittersweet. I mean, it’s mostly good — we’ve raised so much money and everyone’s having a fabulous time. I’ve even had the mildly petty satisfaction of being congratulated on tonight’s success by all of the guests, including some internationally known celebrities, and watching Amanda stew about being ignored. She was hoping to swoop in at the last moment and claim all the credit, but I was so closely involved with planning and organizing that everyone knows this is my baby. It’s kind of ironic—it was because she lost the invitations that I had to personally call so many people and make that one-on-one contact.
So I guess thanks are in order… yeah right.
But still, Mason’s here, in a tux, looking achingly handsome, and the Rovers campaign has been stripped from me, and Cecelia’s almost certainly going to name Amanda as the Rovers’ lead publicist because she’s pissed at me for crossing a line with one of my clients. I can’t even be angry at Cecelia for that. My aching heart is living proof that she’s right. You can’t mix work and play. I’m lucky the Rovers didn’t ditch our firm entirely.
I managed to avoid Mason all evening at the rink, but now we’re at the reception, which is being held in the special events room in the same building as the hockey rink, and it’s a little harder.
He’s been trying to catch my eye, but I’m doing everything possible to ensure that doesn’t happen. I’ve very successfully evaded him and managed to stay on the other side of the room from him at all times.
Fool me once, shame on you ...
“Have I told you that you look amazing?” Paolo asks me.
I will confess to dressing to kill tonight. Probably not literally — although I am wearing some sharp stilettos. My dress is a neon pink Carolina Herrera wrap dress with a low back and a plunging neckline. My hair is styled in a chignon, and I spent an hour painting on my blush, cat-eye makeup, and glossy pink lips.
“A girl can never hear it too many times.” I smile at him. Across the room, I accidentally see Mason staring at me, narrow-eyed. Is he actually freaking jealous?
I grab Paolo’s hand and he laughs and twirls me around several times. My dress flares out, and I finish with a curtsy. He bows to me, then moves off through the crowd, seeking his wife, who just left us to get a drink.
“Rowan?” Cecelia taps me on the arm.
“Wonderful turnout, isn’t it?” I smile. I may be bubbling with hurt and anger at Mason, but I am genuinely delighted about this evening. We have raised so many funds for the kids and their families. They’ll get gifts, the families will be able to stay in local hotels right near their kids, they’ll have little mini vacations ...
“It is. I’m so glad. We may have something of a problem, though.” Cecelia inclines her head across the room, and I see Lexi striding through the crowd in a determined fashion, her gaze scanning the guests.
She’s either looking for Mason or looking for Dylan, and honestly, I suspect the former. She seems to have set her sights on him again.
“Well, I’m sure Amanda can handle it.” That may have come off as a little petty, but I’m not wrong, am I? Amanda is in charge of the account now.
Cecelia purses her lips. “The problem there is that although Mason specifically requested Amanda take over the account, he refuses to speak to her directly. Everything has to go through intermediaries. It’s really inefficient, he argues with all her ideas, and nothing’s getting done as a result. She’s getting very frustrated, and I can’t say I blame her.” I draw in a breath, and she gives me a sharp look. “Rowan, I know you don’t like what happened, but I’m going to be blunt, it’s partly on you. Possibly entirely on you. And it’s only because I really, really like you that I haven’t pushed you on what actually happened.”
