I let this settle, the silence on set electric.
It gives me particular pleasure to pull out the next nugget I’ve been saving for a special occasion just like this one. “And since we’re on the topic of NDAs,” I add, “maybe you can share with us the high standards you hold for your assistants. All young women under thirty, all leaving after just a few months. You must be… a hard boss to please, Charles.”
He’s turning red.
“OK,” Diane interjects quickly, “let’s keep this civil. No need for accusations.”
The crass double standard doesn’t faze me as much as it used to. I’m disappointed when a professional of Diane’s caliber plays along. The pressure to be flawless is nerve-wracking. Every other man gets to fling his dick around, and I can’t miss a step, or my credibility flies out the window.
“This kind of emotional outburst is exactly why the shareholders don’t trust you,MissRawlings,” Gordon snaps. “If I were you, I’d start counting my days.”
Rage boils in my chest. This obsolete, shriveled raisin didn’t justthreatenme. “If you think—”
“That’s all the time we have.” Diane cuts in sharply, and I don’t think I do an exceptionally good job at hiding the daggers shooting her way. “Thank you both.”
The lights dim, and somebody calls, “And we’re out.”
The moment I don’t have to watch every word that comes out of my mouth, my legs start trembling. I’m shaking so hard, my heels tap against the floor.
Diane turns toward me with a professional smile, holding out her hand. “Pleasure having you on the show.”
“Do you feel good about that?” I make no move to shake her hand, and Michelle materializes next to me, looking ready to jump in and defuse the tension.
“Don’t take it personally,” Diane says casually. “I’m just doing my job.”
Oh. I am taking thissofucking personally.
The smell of wood polish loosens every knot in my shoulders the moment I step inside. This brownstone has always been my favorite property in the family portfolio. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of living here, away from the tension at home. With a life that was finally mine.
And now, here I am.
Friday night, 8pm. Raiding the pantry of this spectacular Gilded Age home and getting all the sweet and salty treats I promised myself.
No healthy food for me tonight.
I usually love cooking and trying out new recipes, but this week I couldn’t bring myself to touch a pan. Or even order takeout. The only reason I didn’t starve was Mom. Like Carter, she stress-cooks when things get hard.
The smart home’s speaker system fills the rooms with the “Penny Lane” ringtone that never ceases to make me smile.
“Hello, Mr. Errington, isn’t it a bit late on your side of the pond? Must be past midnight over there,” I say as I cross the hallway with my loot.
My former boss and mentor’s warm British accent rings out clearly as I reach the media room. “Eh, at my age, sleep is a privilege.”
“It’s cute you’re fishing for compliments.”
He chuckles. “How are you, truly? Still don’t want to come back to London?”
Talking with Cecil always makes me miss those years in England, in that gorgeous office overlooking the Thames. He encouraged me. Listened to me. Never once treated me like an airhead nuisance. His fatherly care wrapped around me like a weighted blanket.
When I left New York, I was heartbroken and directionless, but Cecil took me under his wing, and I finally found my place in the world.
If Dad hadn’t died, maybe I’d still be there.
“Don’t tell me you also think I can’t handle what happened last week.”
“Oh, no, my dear. I know you’re capable. We’re all just worried and want you to be safe.” He pauses. “Will’s been pestering me to send the jet and bring you back. Which isn’t one of his worst ideas. You two always made a great team.”
My cheeks flush. He doesn’t miss a trick. His son and I were probably not as discreet as we thought, during those months when the lines blurred, and we became more than colleagues. It was meant to be a fling with no expectations. I thought I couldn’t give a man more than that, after everything that happened with Adam…
