Every Last Secret(17)

“I don’t know about that,” I said carefully. “You’re a genius. Without you, there wouldn’t even be a Winthorpe Tech, or a Winthorpe Capital to fund it.”

“She said the team hates me.”

I let out a slow breath. “Wow. Diving right in with the heavy punches.” She’d been there only a few weeks. Couldn’t she have eased in with the attack? “Hates? No. They don’t hate you.”

He slowed, the restaurant just ahead, and pulled over on the shoulder, putting the car into park and turning the ignition off. A cool breeze came, and a shiver of chill went through me. “I told her that I didn’t care if they hate me. I’m not in the business of being liked.”

But he did care. I knew that he cared. He just didn’t care enough to fix it. “Does she have a solution?” If she didn’t, he would have fired her. You don’t bring problems to my husband. You bring a problem and a solution. Otherwise, you’re useless.

“She wants to work with me on my style. And on my”—he paused and squinted, trying to think of the term—“personal development.”

“Screw that.” The words snapped out of me, and he glanced over, surprised. “You’re William Winthorpe. You don’t need an egocentric housewife from some San Francisco gutter telling you how to lead your company.”

He chuckled and found my hand, squeezing it. “You’ve been a little vocal yourself, Cat, about the way I’ve handled some things in the past.”

“That’s because sometimes you’re a jerk.” I twisted in the seat to face him. “And you’re blunt. But you’re also the smartest man in every room. I don’t want you to dilute yourself to try to salvage someone’s feelings. This is business. They’re all adults. They can take it.” My hand tightened on his. “And don’t compare me to her just because we both came from nothing. I know you—she doesn’t. I built Winthorpe beside you. She didn’t.”

“Hey.” He leaned forward and cupped the back of my neck, his hand stealing into my hair. “I’d never put you in a category with her. Nobody can hold a candle to you.” He pulled me toward him, and our mouths met, our kiss gentle at first, then stronger. More violent. I kissed him as if I were desperate, and he clutched me to him as if I gave him strength.

He was horrible to everyone, but not with me. With me, he was vulnerable and kind. Generous and loving. He plucked the good things, like petals on a rose, and kept them in his pocket, then showered me with them at night. No one was going to change that about him. Especially not her.



“I’m confused . . . ,” Kelly said slowly, her glossy purple nails picking through the Menlo prep school uniform catalog. She paused at one ensemble, and I shook my head. “I thought you were happy that she was there. I thought you said that William needed someone to keep morale up and improve the”—she lifted her gaze to the sky—“cohesion? Is that what you said?”

“I did, and I do see the value in her sticking Band-Aids on hurt feelings and putting inspiration posters up in the bathrooms, but I don’t want her screwing with William.” I spun the notebook in front of me around and tapped on a girl’s white tuxedo shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves. “This is cute.”

“Hmm.” She peeled off a gold sticker and stuck it to the item. “Keep looking. You don’t want her screwing with him or you don’t want her screwing him?”

I grimaced. “Well, preferably both. But the latter isn’t a possibility or I wouldn’t have her working there at all.”

She looked up from the catalog. “Spoken as a woman who hasn’t yet discovered an affair. Trust me, Cat. There’s always a possibility.” She moved aside a few pages, collecting the stack together. “Think of Corinne Woodsen. Her husband slept with that aardvark of a woman with the wooden leg.”

“It wasn’t a wooden leg. She had knee-replacement surgery. The brace was temporary.”

“Well, it wasn’t sexy.”

“Just because Corinne Woodsen’s husband can’t keep his hands to himself doesn’t mean that I need to be paranoid over a new employee of William’s. She’s married,” I pointed out. “I’m telling you. It’s fine.”

“Uh-huh.” She moved two fabric swatches to the middle of the table. “I’m going with these patterns, but in the school colors.”

I reviewed the options and gave a supportive nod. “Looks great.”

She moved beside me and thumbed through the narrowed-down list of options for the uniform shirts. “How much digging did you do into her?”

“Neena?” I shrugged. “I checked to see if they had applied for membership to the club.”

“And?”

“They toured it but didn’t put in an application. I’m guessing the initiation fee scared them off.”

“Hell, that almost scared us off.” Kelly laughed, as if the six-figure initiation fee had ever been a concern for her or Josh. “And where did she work before?”

“Plymouth Industries. Apparently they loved her there. I read the recommendation letter from Mr. Plymouth. He couldn’t say enough great things about her or how much they’d miss her.”

“Well, Josh knows Ned. Says he’s a total hard-ass, so she must have some sort of skill.”