The Price Of Scandal(12)

“Ms. Stanton, I have Alpha Group on the line again for you,” Easton said, hustling in with my mid-morning hit of caffeine. “And your friend Luna sent this over.”

“Not interested in calls from anyone other than board members,” I reiterated.

He put the special delivery green juice down on my desk like it was plutonium and handed me the note that came with it. “It smells like dirt and lawn,” he said, wrinkling his pert nose. “I’d drink the coffee first and hope it burns your taste buds so you can down the juice.”

Ems,

Fuel up with good vibes! Daisy’s Insta post is a hit!

Love and light,

Luna





I hadn’t left my office since arriving that morning. Assistant Number Two—Valerie, I’d discovered after remembering to consult the HR records—kept me fueled with lunchtime sushi from the cafeteria and a steady flow of smart waters.

No one in the entire building had said a word to me about last night.

I wasn’t sure if it was because they were terrified of me or worried I’d snap like the delicate crystal stem of a wineglass. And at this point, I wasn’t sure either.

My apologies weren’t reassuring anyone. Worse, they were pissing me off.

I had an emergency call with my publicity and legal teams in fifteen minutes. I hoped they had a miracle up their sleeves because I felt like I was making a bigger mess of things.

If I could close my eyes for five minutes—

My office door flew open, and Lita rushed in. “I am sick over this,” she said, rushing me. I rose and submitted to her hug. I wasn’t comfortable with affection, and Lita wasn’t the best hugger. She was too non-committal.

There was no solace to be found in the hug.

But there was no solace anywhere. I’d let her down. Everyone in this building. Everyone in warehouses and manufacturing labs and distribution centers around the country. I’d let every single one of them down, and I was only just realizing that I had no idea how to fix it. Just doing my job wasn’t going to repair anything.

“This is all my fault,” she said, releasing me.

She crossed to the sitting area and helped herself to an exquisitely wrapped chocolate truffle. I allowed myself one a day. Today’s had been ingested in desperation thirty seconds after walking in the door.

“It’s not your fault.” I sighed, taking a seat in the silk upholstered armchair next to her.

“I should have done more digging into him,” she said, shaking her head, popping the entire candy into her mouth.

“This was his first arrest,” I said flatly. There hadn’t been anything to dig up on Merritt. Jane had emailed me a creepily thorough dossier on the guy this morning. Sure, he was a shiftless, lazy playboy. A barnacle on his father’s fortune. But this was his first brush with the law. There wasn’t anything prior to last night that would have raised any red flags.

I’d spent thirty whole seconds wondering if someone had set him up or if he’d scorned someone close to him who’d decided to get a very public, very costly revenge. And then I’d had to get back to reassuring directors that I wasn’t spiraling out of control.

“I should have at least checked with your brother. I can’t help but feel like this is all my fault,” she said, reaching for another chocolate. They cost $40 apiece.

“It’s not your fault,” I said again, watching her unwrap the chocolate. In the end, whatever happened within or to my company fell on my shoulders. I was responsible. And I needed to figure out how to best move forward.

“Well, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help everyone forget about this and move on. I told Helen that this morning,” Lita said.

“You spoke to Helen?” I asked wearily. Helen Krueger was Flawless’s publicist, an artist at “reframing” and “staying on message.” She was also responsible for forty percent of her bicoastal firm’s billing.

“She mentioned that I might need to step up and take on some public events and outings. Do some interviews. Show that things are still running smoothly. That kind of thing,” Lita said, examining her nails.

“Okay. Makes sense,” I said. At least there was one female executive at Flawless that wasn’t mired in drama.

There was a headache brewing at the back of my neck that was threatening to get much worse.

My desk phone beeped. “Ms. Stanton? I have your brother on hold for you,” Valerie said.

I checked my watch. Four minutes until my next meeting. Not enough time to close my eyes anyway.

“Thanks, Valerie.”

“Say hey to Trey for me,” Lita said, patting my knee. “We’ll get through this. You can count on me.”

“Thanks, Lita.”

She took another chocolate out of the bowl and headed for the door. There went $120.

I sank down behind the desk and hit the speaker button. “Hey, Trey. I’ve only got a minute.”

“How was the slammer?” My brother’s voice filled the room with mirth. Trey would be the only Stanton to find the scandal hilarious.

“Nice to see you so concerned for your sister and your friend,” I said dryly.

Trey never had to be concerned with things like responsibility and reputation. He’d unapologetically forged a path as the family screwup. Nothing was expected of him. And I hated him just a little bit for it in this moment.