The Price Of Scandal(21)
Emily’s frostiness warmed by a few degrees. “My money is on Mom.”
“And mine’s on you. Make me proud, slugger.” He landed a light punch on her arm.
“I will,” she said, sitting behind her desk and effectively dismissing him.
For the first time, Byron smiled in approval. “Jane, you’re looking trigger-happy as always,” he said.
“Always ready and willing to stun gun anyone who requires an attitude adjustment,” Jane shot back with a baleful look.
“Mr. Price, I expect you’ll keep my daughter on the straight and narrow for the next seven weeks.”
“I’ll see that Emily has all that she needs,” I said.
“I should hope so. I admire the way you wormed your way into a position we didn’t know we needed filled.” It was both sarcastic and a compliment.
He offered his hand, and I shook it. We were two brawlers sizing each other up, wondering what the other was up to. I saw my opening when he glanced away.
“You’ve got a few donut crumbs there,” I said, brushing at his jacket.
“What?”
“If you two are done crushing bones, I’ve got a very busy day today,” Emily said, sounding annoyed from behind her monitor.
11
Emily
“Disgraced CEO hires publicity shark Derek Price to repair image”
“Derek Price has hands full with disaster Emily Stanton”
“Alpha Group founder hints at relationship with beleaguered billionaire”
My father stormed out of the office looking for someone else to terrify, and I relaxed into my chair.
“On that note, I’m going to head back to Bluewater and meet with security to find out just how our well-hung Mr. Price got in last night,” Jane announced.
Derek chuckled.
“You could just ask him,” I suggested, scanning the fifty new emails that had rolled in on the drive here.
“It’s much more entertaining this way,” he said, sitting down on my couch and opening his laptop.
“Jane, I’ll call a car for you. You can pick me up tonight—”
“No need, Jane. I’ll see the boss home,” Derek said, without looking up from his screen.
With an elegant flick of my wrist, I flipped him off.
She snorted. “Play nice, you two.”
“Alone at last,” he said when Jane left.
“Don’t you have an unsuspecting woman to show your penis to?” I asked primly.
“Ms. Stanton, what would your HR department say?” he asked, feigning horror.
I didn’t feel like joking with him. His presence was a reminder that my own board didn’t trust me to run my own damn company.
I tapped the end of my pen on the notebook I always kept handy for notes and formulas. “What did my father mean by you wormed your way in?”
“Oh, that. I happened to personally witness those handcuffs snapping around your beautiful wrists. I also happen to be acquaintances with Imani on your board of directors.”
I closed my eyes. “So you called her.”
“So I called her.”
I was suddenly very, very tired. “Derek, why are you in my office? Surely this ‘fixing’ doesn’t require you to shadow me 24/7?”
“My darling Emily, how else can I help you?”
“Are you in my calendar right now?” I barked. Appointments were moving, times changing right before my eyes.
“Why, yes, I am.”
“How did you even get access?”
“Do you really want me to bore you with the details of how I do things?” he asked.
My printer whirred to life and spat out several pages. “Stop using my equipment!”
“You’re welcome to use my equipment at any time, Emily.”
I was going to find a way to destroy this man. Somehow. Someway. I would make him rue the day he agreed to be my babysitter.
I snatched the papers out of the tray and marched them over to him. “Derek, I mean this in the nicest possible way. If you don’t get out of my office and let me get to work, I am going to lose my shit in a scene so un-Stanton-like that the entire building will be talking about it for years.”
“I’d better get you two donuts tomorrow,” he mused.
I threw the papers in his face and had to restrain myself from wrapping my hands around his neck and choking the life out of him.
“Take it easy, love,” he said, relenting. “I’ve got a few things to go over with you first. I’ll be quick. I promise.”
“I give you five and you leave me alone?” I pressed.
“Is everything a negotiation with you?” he asked, amused.
“Yes. Now get out.”
“You give me five and I’ll stop distracting you.”
That was definitely not a promise to leave my office, I noted.
He patted the cushion next to him.
I took a deep breath and counted backward from ten. Luna swore by counting away the mad. But it never worked for me. It just made me angrier that I’d wasted ten seconds in which I could have done something more productive.
“Five minutes,” I repeated and sat, making sure to leave several inches of couch cushion between us.