The Price Of Scandal(42)

“My father has steamroller tendencies and no understanding of—or interest in—the female skincare industry. As a director, he’s encouraged to provide guidance and feedback, not direct the vision of my company.”

“And Lita?” I pressed.

She sighed and chose her words carefully. “While she has been there since the inception of Flawless, she doesn’t have—forgive the pun—skin in the game. She wasn’t lucky enough to be born into a trust fund as I was. I fronted the cash. I own the company.”

“There’s more you’re pretending to be too polite to say,” I pointed out.

“Lita has never been one to bleed or sweat for a cause.” Her shoulders tensed. “She cares as much as is convenient. I don’t mean that flippantly. She cares deeply for me and for Flawless. But not everyone is interested in making their work the top priority for every one of the twenty-four hours in a day. I understand that and respect it.”

“Is there a resentment there?”

“You mean does Lita resent me?” she clarified. “I think she’s quite comfortable with our arrangement. In fact, there are many times I envy her ability to prioritize her personal life. She has no qualms about escaping for a long spa weekend or taking every single one of her vacation days. Her life is her priority. Flawless is mine.”

“And you wonder if anyone can care as much as you do if they aren’t willing to put in the time,” I guessed.

She paused. “Maybe.”

“I care,” I said. “And I’m not going to stop until you have what you want.”

The last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon.

She returned to the chair next to me and sat. “No offense, but I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said.

“How about a side wager?” I offered.

“You want me to bet that you won’t save my reputation?” she asked with a laugh.

“I’m very competitive. The higher the stakes, the better I perform.”

“We’re not discussing your bedroom habits,” she said haughtily.

“Funny. See? No one in the world knows what a wicked sense of humor you have. I can show them.”

“I’m a real comedian,” Emily said dryly.

“If you’re as smart as I know you are, you’ll see this as an opportunity to win no matter what. Choose something that will make you feel like you’ve won.”

“What are the terms?” she asked, pursing her lips.

“I will deliver you your IPO.”

“And if you don’t?”

“What do you want from me?” I asked. “Name it.”

A slow, devious smile transformed her face. “Fine. I want fifty percent of Alpha Group. You save my company or lose half of yours.”

It was small potatoes in comparison to Flawless, and we both knew it. But Alpha Group was mine. I wouldn’t lose it without putting up one hell of a fight, and Emily knew it. Her calculating brain was enthralling.

“It’s a bet,” I said, raising my bottle to her.

She lifted her glass. “It’s a bet,” she echoed.





20





Emily





“Van Winston reveals drugs belonged to Emily Stanton”

“Stanton’s long-standing history of drug abuse”

“Van Winston attorney hints at charges for billionaire”





Long didn’t even begin to describe the day I’d had. After Derek left from his second breaking and entering last night, I’d stayed up until three working my way through overdue tasks and emails. Then I’d dragged my body out of bed at six for a half-assed workout before starting it all over again.

I was a machine. A robot, letting Derek or Jane or Easton escort me where I needed to go. And my batteries were running dangerously low.

I indulged myself and rested my forehead on the cool glass of my desk. Enjoying five whole seconds of the sanctuary my office provided.

If I could just grab a quick cat nap. Maybe a snack? I’d be back in business.

My office door opened, and I sensed Derek’s annoying presence. The man oozed some sort of unignorable energy. Daisy would call it Big Dick Energy.

“Sleeping beauty,” Derek crooned. That slight accent, like he couldn’t quite commit to British or South Florida, made everything he said sexier. Which annoyed me further.

“Ugh. Go away,” I grumbled.

“I can’t. I need you, love.” I heard him take a seat in front of my desk.

Everyone needed me, I thought wryly as I sat up and straightened my hair.

He placed a coffee cup on my desk.

If I hadn’t been so tired, I would have reflected on the oddity of how essential my mere physical presence in a room was.

I’d attended a breakfast networking event for female entrepreneurs. Strong and sexy pantsuit, no time for the made-to-order omelets. From there, we zipped across town for a radio interview about Flawless and its mission in the skincare industry. Jeans and a trendy, bejeweled top with strappy sandals. Double shot of espresso.

In the car, I’d approved the hiring of a new chemist and the director of global retail design without the deep dig I usually did into a candidate’s background. I was trusting—hoping—my team had done their due diligence.