The media was the biggest hassle. She understood she was an easy target since a lot of people would love to see her fail, and implying her venues were unsafe or dangerous was a favorite pastime, but it was annoying as hell to have to grit her teeth and calmly instruct her PR department on how to proceed.
Not for the first time, she cursed the arrogance of her youth that had dictated the name of her business. She should have gone for something anonymous, placed a no-name figurehead at the helm, and faded into the background as a faux-silent partner. Thanks to her father, this fucking name of hers practically painted a bull’s-eye on her company.
She was not in the best of moods when Tammy came in carrying the salad Akira had ordered from the deli down the street. “Bless your heart. I’m starving.”
Tammy set the familiar plastic takeout box on her desk and placed a brown bag next to it. Akira cast her a questioning look at the latter. “What’s that?”
“It was waiting for you at the security desk downstairs. I told them to send it up with your lunch order. I figured you ordered something else?”
Akira studied the innocuous bag, her morning flower delivery popping into her brain. “No. Just my salad.”
“Do you want me to…?”
“No.” Akira waved her away. “I know who it’s from. Thanks.” She waited for Tammy to leave. The second the door closed behind the other woman, she snatched the bag closer. The name emblazoned on the front was familiar, though she hadn’t seen the swirling script in a while. Davide. She traced her finger over the simple black lettering. How on earth had Jacob known…?
Akira stiffened. Ah. Yes. How long ago had that been? Five years? Leaving her mother’s house on a brittle New Year’s Eve, she had encountered the woman gushing to Jacob where he stood on the stoop, ready to leave, his coat draped over his arm. “The clock hasn’t even struck midnight yet, Jacob.”
Jacob had responded, but Akira hadn’t been concentrating on his words. So rarely did she get to hear the low rumble of his voice, she wallowed in it when she did.
“Well, give Kati and the boys my regards. I’ll drop by your house tomorrow. With Davide’s of course.”
A pang of hurt had wormed through the champagne Akira had been drinking all night to make the evening at her mother’s home bearable. It wasn’t enough Mei showed Jacob and his siblings more warmth at these parties than she did Akira. She also stopped by their homes the day after? With treats from one of the most expensive bakeries in San Francisco?
This time, she heard Jacob’s response. “Kati’s looking forward to it. She loves those scones you bring.”
She sneered at the exact moment Jacob’s eyes shifted to her standing behind her mother. His easy smile froze.
It took a second for her to banish the outward signs of emotion, but she managed it by the time Mei glanced over her shoulder, her shiny black bob swinging. Disdain replaced the affection. “Are you leaving?” There was no entreaty to stay, as Jacob had received.
She hadn’t planned on going. It was barely ten. There was a stockbroker lingering in the ballroom she’d been working on seducing all night. She always tried for at least one conquest at each of these parties.
Hell, she needed to eke some pleasure out of the experience. And her mother’s angry attention was better than no attention at all.
But suddenly, facing this matching wall of disapproval, she lost her stomach for courting even that. “Yes. I have a hot date waiting for me at home,” she lied. She stepped around her mother and through the door, her hurt insulating her from the cold breeze brushing over her bare arms. She hadn’t worn a coat, the better to shock her mom upon arrival with her short slip of a dress.
Jacob took two hasty steps back as she descended the stairs. Annoyance over his retreat, combined with the alcohol in her system, made her toss her next words over her shoulder. “I’ll try to clear my, um, friend out tomorrow in time for our traditional New Year’s lunch, Mother.”
“Don’t rush on my account, dear,” her mother said smoothly, both of them aware they were playing a game. “I know how you like your fun.”
That was her. Fun.
Jacob’s eyes shifted warily between her and her mother. “I have to get going. The kids are waiting for me.”
Mei softened. “Of course. Good night, Jacob.”
“See you tomorrow, Mei. Akira.” Jacob gave her a curt nod and turned on his heel, heading down the path to the valet.
“That man is a saint,” her mother murmured behind her. “As kind as his father, but far more responsible.”
Akira struggled not to shiver. “Yes. A regular saint. I suppose I’ll see you at Easter.”
“Valentine’s. I’m having a fundraiser requiring your presence. Try to behave. Important people will be in attendance.”
She merely looked at her mother standing framed in the door. “I show up.” Appearances were met. In society’s eyes, her mother was the poor, kind mother with the slutty, useless daughter.
“And I should be grateful for that?” Her mother’s narrow nostrils flared, but she was forestalled from speaking further when a burst of laughter came from behind her and she had to turn to speak with more departing guests.
She gave her mother a wave. “Bye, Ma.”
