The Price Of Scandal(28)

It popped up on the screens, and everyone in the room inhaled sharply.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

“Open your eyes.”

The nurse held up the hand mirror, and Mallory opened her very lovely green eyes. They widened with shock.

The scar had been an ivory path carved from jawline to nose, splintering under the eye in a spiderweb of trauma. Now it was… smaller, thinner, smoother. Some of the threadlike splinters had vanished completely.

“This is after one week, Mallory. Imagine what three weeks will look like,” Emily said as the woman before her took a shaky breath.

Mallory turned to look at the pictures. She was nodding slowly, slowly. And there was a small, tender smile playing at the corners of her unpainted mouth. Acknowledging a new reality, a new future, that Emily had given her.

Yes. There were some members of the human race who made it their duty to tear others down, tried to destroy them. And then there were the Emily Stantons of the world. Ones who cared and fixed and tried to make things better.

Was that sweat stinging my eyes?

I glanced around. It appeared that everyone had sweaty eyes. Or allergies. People were blowing their noses while others wiped their faces with their sleeves.

Mallory was hugging Emily now. A hard, tight embrace more powerful than any words of thanks.

My client was a motherfucking genius, and if she kept smiling like that, I was going to have a problem not falling hard for her.





14





Emily





Mom: Emily you must call me immediately.





Mom: I need to speak with you about this unfortunate situation.





Mom: Kerrigan Mortimer is shopping for a third wife. A wedding would be just the thing to distract everyone from your misstep, don’t you think?





Mom: I’ll never be able to show my face at the club again. Crystal Fordham had the audacity to ask what rehab facility I’ll be sending you to. Call me!





Leaving the happy chaos of the lab behind me, I ducked into a storage room for a moment of quiet.

It was a habit I’d developed years ago. Sometimes things in my life were so big, so thrilling, that I needed a few minutes to take it in. To say a thank you to the universe. And to feel really damn proud of myself. Then I would compartmentalize it and neatly dive back into the next thousand details requiring my attention.

I blew my nose into the tissue I’d snuck out of the box by the door. It wouldn’t do for my team to see the Emily Stanton tearing up over, well, anything.

We’d done it. The formulas would need to be refined and tested further. But this was a win. I was already thinking of price points and how to keep these little magical marvels affordable. Everyone deserved the chance to heal their scars. I didn’t want this to end up as some high-end plastic surgery upgrade only available with the right bank account balance.

Money was a physical presence in my life. But sometimes, the hunger others had for it overwhelmed me. There would be a fight. A low-cost scar treatment didn’t exactly fit with the rest of our high-end products. But I was confident we could find a way around it. Perhaps a more budget-conscious brand with a new line of products?

I laughed softly to myself.

My vision for the company had been evolving for quite some time. And in quiet moments like this, I worried that I would lose the ability to fight for that vision once I had shareholders to answer to.

“Suck it up, Stanton,” I whispered out loud. I would meet whatever challenges came my way just as I always had.

The walls of this room were crammed full of wire racks with equipment and the accessories of scientific study. Every test tube, every dry erase board, every pipette was mine. And I was going to use them well. This was just the beginning of the advancements possible. I wanted to make sure that Flawless was on the front lines of development.

There was so much more to do.

“Emily?”

The door opened behind me, and I quickly swiped the tissue under my eyes.

For one whole minute, I forgot all about the mess that required Derek Price’s presence in my life.

“Just doing a quick inventory,” I said without turning around. “I’ll be out in a minute.” A brisk brush-off that anyone tuned to human nature would read to mean “Leave, now.”

He closed the door, but I could still sense him in the room with me. My acute awareness of his presence was yet another annoyance.

I felt hands on my shoulders, and then he was turning me to face him. Manhandling was something I did not tolerate. But rather than kicking him in the spectacular junk, I studied the tips of my shoes.

I was puttering around a lab in open-toed stilettos. I was an embarrassment to scientists everywhere.

“Emily,” he said again, nudging my chin up with an arrogant thumb.

I met his gaze with hostility. I hated being anything in the neighborhood of vulnerable. And being vulnerable in front of a man I’d known for less than twenty-four hours? Well, that was unheard of. An impossibility. A rogue data point that would be ruthlessly stripped of significance.

“What? Why are you here?” My voice was cool, clipped.

“That was fucking amazing. You dazzle me,” he said, running his hands down the sleeves of my lab coat.