“Does any of this strike you as familiar?”
“Familiar?” He shrugged. “Very familiar. It’s my mother’s way.”
Patsy grunted. “You’re an idiot.”
“Why? Because I see what she’s doing? Because Missy and I play along just enough to avoid her drama?”
“No, you little shit. Didn’t you hear anything I just said?”
“Are you serious?” he grumbled. “Patsy, come on. I don’t know if it’s just you being you or the Jim Beam taking over, but you’ve circled the globe in this conversation. Honestly? I have no idea what we’re even talking about.”
“You getting secretly laid. Your mother finally admitting the mistakes she’s made. The fact that her parents tried to run her life. Any of this ringing a bell?”
He crossed his arms and sighed. “Is there some reason why we have to dance around? Can’t you just spit it out?”
She stood up and yanked on her sweater. “Fine. Here goes.”
He watched and waited.
“She’s doing to you and Missy what her parents did to her.”
“Okay.”
“David, for Christ’s sake. Wake up. She needs you to fight back. She needs you to do what she couldn’t. Choose your own life—not the life your parents lay out.”
His head swiveled. He looked through the window. Was that really what was happening? In a way, it made sense. Quinn Sanderson sense.
“Don’t let her get away with it.”
“Be specific,” he ground out.
“Violet. Put your damn foot down, Stinky.”
“But…”
His aunt did the unexpected and came to him for a brief hug. “I’m going to give you two pieces of insider information. What you do with it is on you.”
This is one of those times when he wanted Amy at his side. She wouldn’t be much help because Patsy scared the shit from her but just having her nearby would calm his nerves.
“First. Your mother thinks Violet is a twunt.”
He laughed at the bitchy word.
“And second, stake your claim you stupid boy before Mommy hooks you up with a society-page date for the project launch.”
He jolted as if a cattle prod struck his nuts. Date for the launch? Stake his claim? Was she saying what he thought she was? Wait a minute…
“Oh, and get your stinky pants in there and make nice with the Judge.”
“Why?”
Patsy gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Men are so fucking dumb that it’s painful.”
He barked out the words that exploded in his thoughts. “Hold on. Are you saying Quinn and the Judge?”
She patted his cheek gently and ended with a smart slap for good measure. Typical Aunt Patsy.
“Be the man she raised, David. Not the cookie cutter son.”
They crossed the terrace in silence, her arm looped with his. He had a lot to think about.
As they stepped through the French doors into the salon to rejoin the group, she winked and got in a parting shot, “Oh, and tell the young woman you keep hidden in the shadows that despite my meddling, the black and white theme is inspired!”
He nearly tripped over his clumsy feet as she laughed and walked away, leaving him solo to navigate the rest of this incredibly weird night.
* * *
Amy glared at the phone on the side table when the vibrations signaling a text made it wobble. Sometimes she hated the constant presence of the communication device.
Pressing her thumb on the home button, she waited for the notifications to appear and focused on the most recent.
A message from Missy.
She sat up so quick that the bowl of chips on her lap dumped out. Shit. Bumbling with the phone, she was nothing but thumbs as she brought up the text box.
Hey. Cocktail update. Vio-lotta-bullshit just got in a cab and left. Mom has a bad case of pinched mouth. Patsy may or may not be drunk. Tom’s stomach is gurgling from apprehension. Some little fat guy named the Judge keeps trying to hold Quinn’s hand. The Mayor has a penchant for insanely dirty jokes. Oh yeah, and Davy looks like he has twelve hours to find the final Horcrux before all hell breaks loose. WTF?????
Holy crap-a-looza! Violet left?
She scooted into a more comfortable position and texted back.
Whadayamean she left? Was there a scene?
Waiting for a reply took a dog’s age. She pushed hair behind her ears and chewed a nail. What did this mean? Did David pull the plug in the middle of Quinn’s soiree? That didn’t seem like him. He wasn’t a big fan of public theatrics.
No scene. She was laughing as the cab pulled up. Mom and Davy were both outside.
None of this made sense. Laughing? What the hell? She checked out the time on her TV’s cable box and quickly responded.
Is David still there? Is he okay?
Missy replied a few minutes later. Check this out.
Two seconds went by and a picture appeared. David and a portly looking gentleman engaged in a deep conversation. Barely visible in the corner was Quinn wearing an expression that almost appeared happy.
Who’s that? She’d barely pressed send when Missy’s next comment appeared.
A judge. He’s Greek. Something hinky is going on.
Amy jumped up and started pacing back and forth in her small, childhood bedroom. The last time she went downstairs, their backyard neighbor was helping her dad drag a bunch of crap out of the garage as Mom and her brother Doug shouted unhelpful directions. Joanie, of course, was out running around.
She couldn’t have been more wrong about seeking distraction in her family’s daily life. She should have stayed at the apartment and made David come straight there after the get together at Quinn’s.
What should she do? Texting him on his personal phone would be breaking protocol, but her burner phone was turned off and in her purse. Downstairs.
Plus, she didn’t want to be that girl. The one who crawled up her man’s ass every opportunity she got.
The sapphire bracelet twinkled in the light. First of many, he’d said. She had to give him the benefit of the doubt and wait, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to squeeze every drop of available information out of Missy.
How drunk is your aunt? Epic drunk or shit stirring drunk?
Another picture appeared. This one was slightly blurry as if hurriedly and probably surreptitiously taken. It showed Patsy and the Mayor falling over with laughter.
The sort of drunk that falls in between OH NO SHE DIDN’T and OH GOD PLEASE DON’T.
She quickly typed, Who’s the grey haired gent in the corner?
Missy responded with the nerdy looking emoji and typed, Quinn’s lawyer.
A series of cry laughing emojis followed. Davy just gave me a look. He saw me texting.
You better go before we get in trouble. Thanks for the heads up. Don’t respond. TTYL.
She dropped the phone on the bed. A surge of happy excitement filled her up. Was Violet history? Were she and David really going to go public with their relationship?
Oh. My. God.
Creeping quietly from her room, she carefully stepped over every known floor squeak and tiptoed downstairs where she stopped and listened.
It sounded like everyone was still outside. Good. She made a mad dash into the den and searched for her purse. She might not want to initiate a conversation but maybe David would and for that to happen, she needed her top-secret phone.
She was making a hasty retreat when the house phone rang and scared the living daylights out of her. Who the hell would call in the evening, on the damn land line? Sheesh.
She was just putting her foot on the second step when her mother called out, “Amy? Is that you?”
Sighing with resignation, she turned toward the rear of the house and answered. “Yep. What’s up?”
Her mother’s face appeared around the corner of the doorway into the kitchen. She looked bemused.
“Uh, I think your boss is on the phone.”
“What?”
“Your boss. Well, one of them. David Sanderson, right? He’s on the phone.”
Amy booked at high speed from the front stairs, down the hallway and burst into the kitchen with a crazed expression. “Give me the phone.”
Her mother smirked, raised a brow and murmured, “Uh huh.”
If only from the sheer number of hours she and David spent together, her parents knew she was involved with someone. They also knew that because she and her hidden boyfriend worked together and it was against company policy—they had to keep things discreet and private. Her mom objected to the secrecy, but Amy had a great comeback. She simply pointed out that it would be stupid to rock the boat over a man until they had a chance to discover whether the relationship had staying power.
She took the receiver from her mom’s hand and took a steadying breath. She felt like a goofy thirteen-year-old getting her first phone call from a boy.
“Hello?”
David’s voice, deep, husky and amused came across the line. “Ms. Peters? It’s David Sanderson. We met at the office.”
She glanced at her mother, blushed and whirled around. Before wandering away, Jennifer Peters laughed softly.
“Yes. I remember. Good evening Mr. Sanderson. What can I do for you?”
“Well,” he began. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Beck has an important project launch coming up. You worked on it I believe.”
She snickered into the phone. Worked on it. Fuck. She did a lot more than just work on it. He was enjoying this, so she smiled and gave a tiny pushback.
“Actually yes. My name is in the presentation folder.”
He snickered. She grinned.
“How perfect,” he murmured. “In that case, you’ll be attending the launch party, yes?”
“Of course,” she replied. Her heart picked up and beat faster with each passing second.
“I’d be delighted to escort you to the launch, Ms. Peters.”
She giggled. Couldn’t help it. “Are you asking me for a date, Mr. Sanderson?”
“Why, yes. I am. And quite publically I might add.”
She almost exploded with happiness. “Is that why you called the house phone?”
He laughed. “If I recall correctly, your exact words when I asked previously were, ‘Ask me when there isn’t another woman waiting on your sorry ass.’”
She gasped into the phone but couldn’t find her words.
“My sorry ass is completely free Ms. Peters, so I thought we’d start with the basics and do this out in the open. Starting with your parents being in the know.”
“And your mother? Does she figure into this?”
He paused. She sensed he wanted to tell her something but now was not the time. What he did say was intriguing enough. “My mother may surprise us yet.”
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“For what?”
Admitting stupidity wasn’t easy, but she did it. “I was a baby for coming home. I should have stayed at the apartment.”
“No,” he quickly asserted. “You were right to put your foot down. I’m glad you did, and I’m glad we have to do this on the phone—out in the open. No more hiding, honey.”
“Oh, David.”
She heard his smile when he softly asked, “Are you wearing it?”
She held up the sapphire bangle and shook it on her wrist. “Yes.”
“Good,” he replied with a cheeky sounding laugh. “Now be a good girl and finger your pussy while wearing it and…”
She barked with laughter and outrage. “Seriously?”
He was laughing his ass off, so she said, “Mr. Sanderson, feel free to suck my dick.”
He laughed even harder, and she hung up on him while a monster smile spread on her face.
No more hiding.
Oh. My. God.
Chapter Seven
“There’s a call for you on line two.”
“Thanks, Rosie.
Amy pressed the flashing button on the phone and gave her standard greeting.
“Amy Peters. How may I help you?”
“Good morning Miss Peters,” a halfway familiar voice said. “Stacey Garrison here.”
She very nearly bobbled the phone and let it drop into the trashcan. Holy crap. Quinn Sanderson’s personal secretary.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Garrison?”
Continuing in a brusque, businesslike tone, the person on the other end of the unexpected call spoke in quick, incomplete sentences.
“Filling in Mrs. Sanderson’s calendar. Two notations. One a pre-launch photo op. The other a dinner reservation.”
Okay. And? Amy chewed a nail and frowned. The other woman plowed on.
“Do you have a problem with combining the two?”
Clueless and beginning to sweat bullets, she held the phone to one ear and dropped her head into the other hand.
“I’m sorry. What?”
If she came off sounding like a dolt it couldn’t be helped because she had no idea what was happening.
“Dinner at Paolini’s. Six o’clock reservation. Next Tuesday. I know it’s cutting things short with the launch that weekend, but if everyone agrees I can schedule the photographer for a quick group shot. Two birds—one stone."
Photos? Dinner? She was going to kill David for not warning her. There was just one problem. Garrison wasn’t referring to David at all.
Just to clarify, she asked the obvious. “This is Mrs. Sanderson’s calendar we’re talking about, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
The woman sounded exasperated. Amy couldn’t blame her. In this instance, it seemed best to be straight and see what happened.
“Mrs. Garrison. I’m so sorry, but you have me at a disadvantage. I wasn’t aware that dinner with Mrs. Sanderson was on the calendar.”
“I assumed David told you.”
Oh. So he DID know. Asshole.
A highly-charged silence coming over the phone line made her stomach wobbly. What was the protocol in a moment like this? Is the dinner at Paolini’s business or personal?
Finally, Stacey Garrison tut-tutted like a harried high school science teacher who just realized her students were clueless.
“He makes my job so difficult sometimes.”
Amy went still with surprise. Was Quinn’s right hand making a funny with her? Biting her lip, she said a silent prayer and pitched a jocular softball.
“I believe there’s a crowd of folks he drives crazy.”
“The apple didn’t fall far, hmm?”
She snicker-coughed and tried to preserve a shred of poise. None of her wildest imaginings ever included exchanging amusing banter with the Dragon Lady’s personal blocker.
“Perhaps I should touch base with Mr. Sanderson,” she drawled. “Is there anything else I should know before I talk to him?”
Garrison seemed to hesitate and then in an amused voice simply said, “Paolini’s is a family gathering place, Ms. Peters. Do you understand?”
She wasn’t sure, and now didn’t feel like the time to go with a guess, so she asked for a small clarification.
“Family. Not business.”
“That would be correct. You’re a fast learner. Tipping my hat to you, Ms. Peters. It’s not every day that Quinn Sanderson changes her tune.”
A smile so big it hurt her jaw spread on Amy’s face.
* * *
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
David hurried from his office, smoothing down his tie and buttoning his suit jacket as he made haste for the elevators. A problem with an overseas distributor caused a cascade of disasters only he could handle. The resulting chaos kept him trapped in meetings and calls all morning.
Waiting for the elevator, he scrubbed a hand through his hair and inspected his image reflected in the shiny doors. Butterflies were auditioning for Cirque du Soleil in his gut.
Inside the mirrored metal car, he punched the button for Amy’s floor and mumbled, “Come on, come o
n, come on.”
He couldn’t get to her fast enough.
Bolting from the elevator with the awkward grace of a colt, he acknowledged a couple of greetings and made for the marketing department’s domain.
For the first time, he was going with the sole purpose of seeing his girl, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass who knew. In fact, as far as he was concerned it was well past time for his relationship with the impressively smart woman he just happened to employ to go public.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sanderson.”
He stopped at the reception desk and gave the clean-cut young man the courtesy of his full attention. He might be about to stick his tongue down Amy Peters’ throat, but he was still the guy in charge.
“John, hello. How’s night school going?”
Looking pleased and a bit surprised that the head of Beck Industries remembered a tiny detail about a low-level employee, John Henderson sat up straighter.
“It’s going really good, thanks. Uh, what brings you by, sir? Can I help you?”
David took a slow, steady breath. Goodbye, shadows. Hello, sunlight.
“Is Amy free?”
The other guy’s shock was evident on his face. It was common practice to address all the department heads and project coordinators by a title. Using only her first name implied something personal.
It was all kinds of funny when John’s eyes narrowed. Did he think he was punking him?
“Do you mean, Ms. Peters? Amy Peters?”
He wondered how this humorous moment would play out in the office gossip. For some insane reason, Richard Gere in a white uniform marching through a factory came to mind.
Laughter gathered inside him, and he almost started to run before he fell apart in paroxysms of hysterical guffaws and forever after lost all credibility as a person to be taken seriously.
Smacking his hand on the counter, he gave the flabbergasted reception guy a thumbs up before turning away.
Over his shoulder, he drawled, “Never mind. Think I’ll surprise her.”
Amy’s office was located next to a small bullpen of support staff. Every single one of them looked up as he marched by.
Loud enough for the closest of the gaggle of spectators to hear, he rapped twice on the door and immediately opened it with an amused, “Quick! Hide the nail polish. The boss is here.”
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