The Price Of Scandal(36)

They leaned in, squaring off. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but Emily looked formidable. After a few quiet exchanges, Chipper pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped at his head.

“No one wants to go up against Emily,” Jane explained. “She’s a shark.”

It takes one to know one. And I’d recognized her the second she gave me that frosty ice queen look in her bathroom.

That’s what we were. Two sharks circling each other.

As the clock ticked down, Emily reached across the table, hand out. An offer made.

Bergman swiped his bald spot one more time. Finally, he nodded. They shook just as time ran out.

“What is the outcome of the negotiation?” Cameron called, all business.

“Mr. Bergman and I have settled on extending motion petitions to sixty-five seconds,” Emily said, a self-satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Ruthless,” Jane said with pride.

“And Mr. Bergman also agreed to an amended motion for a two-hour time cap on town halls,” Emily announced.

Daisy pumped her fist in the air at the head table.

“And as a compromise, Ms. Stanton, has agreed to bring in a sushi chef for our town hall refreshments,” Bergman announced.

The crowd went wild.

Wins all around.

I felt the weight of Emily’s gaze on me as I applauded with Jane. She didn’t look pleased to see me there. I winked at her.

She frowned and shifted her glare to Jane.

“Uh-oh,” Jane said, scooping up another handful of popcorn. “Boss is mad.”

“I think she’ll get over it,” I predicted.

Jane’s hum led me to believe she didn’t think that was likely.

“So, you think someone on the inside is trying to make her look bad?” she asked.

The popcorn-hoovering woman was beyond astute. “As a matter of fact.”

“I knew you were smarter than you looked.”

“I’m very smart and very good-looking,” I assured her. “Do you have a suspect?”

She smirked. “I have a few suspicions. Of course, anyone can spin anything. Someone could even find it convenient that a crisis management expert just happened to be available when a billion-dollar scandal hits.”

“Convenient?” I scoffed. “Ask your boss if there’s anything convenient about me.”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

“And, like your tips on wooing Emily, I assume you aren’t going to share your suspicions with me?”

“You’re a smart guy, Tea and Crumpets. You’ll figure it out.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You better or you’ll really piss me off.”

“I assume a stun gun will be involved.”





I ducked out of the ballroom in hour two of the meeting, while a debate raged over what to do about the two amorous dolphins that had apparently been putting on a nature show every afternoon along Bluewater’s coastline.

Observing Emily in a more natural habitat was fascinating, to say the least. First in the lab and then in the community she’d built. Jane was right. There was much more to the coolly professional Ms. Stanton. I’d seen it in the lab and the gym.

And it was my job to expose that human side of her to the world.

She’d fight me. But I would win.

And a win for me was a win for her.

That would be the next step, I decided, letting myself into my condo. Prying her open like an oyster.

The Miami skyline unfolded in front of me through the glass wall. I was no billionaire. But I certainly did well enough. I’d built my business and my life in a way that suited me. Working hard and playing harder. I lived in a luxury condo building downtown and wore custom-tailored clothing. My business employed a small and aggressively loyal team. I supported my family in ways that made them feel spoiled rather than condescended.

The rest of my time was my own to do with as I saw fit. I boxed and sailed and read. Dated interesting women and spent time with friends and family.

Dumping my keys and wallet in the designated glass dish next to the door, I toed off my shoes.

I shrugged out of my jacket on the way to my bedroom.

In the bathroom, I turned on the water in the shower and stripped down, head full of potential avenues. The puzzle of public opinion and how to manipulate it always fascinated me. In this case, my gut told me the world wanted to see the real Emily Stanton. Not some shiny facade.

The question was, how to crack that very proper veneer and offer the world a peek.

My phone signaled on the vanity, and I glanced at it.

Emily: Stop lurking around Bluewater.





I smirked.

Me: I was an invited guest.





Emily: Remind me to fire Jane tomorrow. Do you shadow all your clients so closely?





Me: Only the ones I’m most interested in. Is your meeting over?





There was the expected pause. I had a policy to be honest, at least when I wasn’t lying for professional gain. I’d discovered that in an ironic twist, people were usually happy to give you what you wanted if you were honest about it.

Emily: Over. Three hours and twenty-two minutes. The time cap will be enacted at the next meeting.