The Price Of Scandal(75)

“Good luck in there, Em,” Michael called after us. “Remember, don’t let them smell your fear.”

“She deals with a board of directors on a daily basis. I’m sure she can handle the female side of the family,” Derek said dryly.

“You hit your head or something recently, D?” Carmine asked with a wink in my direction.

My board of directors had nothing on the ladies of the Price-Perez clan. Derek’s sister Tanya—part-time model and full-time mom of three—bounced a sobbing two-year-old on her hip and asked me what my favorite nonprofit organizations were. Liz, with the edgy pixie cut and leather bands up both wrists, gave my haircut an approving nod and asked exactly what my relationship with her brother was. Verita, the bubbly stepsister, pressed a glass of wine into my hand and suggested that I join them on the patio so we could all be more comfortable for the interrogation.

Derek’s mother, Daniella, was warm and welcoming. Along with that welcome came a very subtle vibe that said we could be friends as long as I didn’t screw with her family. She was beautiful. Her mink-colored hair was cut in a frothy, chin-length bob. She wore black and white checked shorts and a sleeveless white top. Her feet were bare, but her face was expertly made up.

“I promise I won’t abandon you,” Derek whispered in my ear as he guided me outside. The kids, ranging in age from teenagers to floaty-wearing preschoolers, were in and out of the pool in what looked like a chaotic amateur diving contest. Dogs, three of them in varying sizes, dashed around the fenced-in backyard, taking turns jumping into the pool and then violently shaking dry to the delight of the kids.

The menfolk had finished drooling over my car and were gathering around the grill, throwing raw meat and fresh beers around.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, though my intestines gave a low rumble of protest. “Go play with your friends.” I ruffled his hair, earning his grin, and his sisters “oohed.”

“Be nice,” he warned them, giving them each a peck on the cheek before crossing the concrete to the Man Zone.

Salsa music played on the wireless speakers, and someone put a plate of fresh cut vegetables and hummus in front of me. Vaguely British and Spanish accents gave the conversations more color and energy.

“So, Emily,” Daniella said, picking up her glass of Chardonnay.

I’d learned long ago that the first question a person asked me was usually a spot-on indicator of their character and their expectations of me.

“Tell me what my son is doing for you?” she said, arching a perfect eyebrow.

There was a lot to unpack there. The implied possessiveness of “my son.” The open-endedness of the question and its myriad of possible answers.

Well, there was the scandal spinning. The tucking into bed. The regular meals. The haircut. And then, of course, there were the orgasms. Oh, and he made me laugh.

“My company hired his firm, and we’ve been spending time together,” I said evasively.

The women sat like statues, sphinxes waiting me out.

I smiled benignly and sipped my wine.

Silence reigned for a full minute.

“She’s not cracking,” Tanya stage-whispered out the side of her mouth.

“Stare harder,” Verita whispered back.

“She’s good,” Liz observed. “Scary good.”

Daniella gave a regal nod and lifted her glass in my direction. “I trust my son’s judgment. Dating or not, you’re welcome here.”

“You wouldn’t want to meet my mother and walk her through that hands-off approach to her children’s relationships, would you?” I asked.





Somewhere into my second glass of wine, I realized my intestines had given up their empty threats. Now, it was my stomach growling as the smell of grilling hamburgers wafted over the patio.

Derek wandered over while his mother was admiring my haircut.

“Like my handiwork, Mom?” he asked.

“Always,” Daniella said, turning her cheek up to her husband, Michael, as he delivered a kiss and a platter of freshly grilled burgers.

“How has this haircut not broken the internet yet?” Liz asked, handing off a toddler to her husband.

“I haven’t been anywhere but brunch and the lab,” I admitted.

“Derek, give me your phone,” Tanya said, holding out her hand.

He obliged.

“Over by the hedgerow,” Tanya pointed decisively. “You too, brother dearest.”

“Why me?” Derek asked.

“A platonic pose. Something that doesn’t confirm or deny your little ‘are they, aren’t they’ fun,” she decided.

Liz and Verita, with Tanya’s directorial commands, arranged us against the wall of greenery, drinks in hand.

“Is this how all your family cookouts go?” I asked as Verita fluffed my hair.

“With a hairdresser, a cop, a model, and forty-seven kids and dogs, you’d be surprised,” she quipped.

“Okay, look at each other and smile like you have a dirty, dirty secret,” Tanya called.





35





Derek





“Home?” I asked Emily over the rumble of the Porsche as we waved goodbye to my family.

“I’d like to see your home,” she decided smugly.