“Ah, well… Try sipping this time?”
But Deryn did not, simply holding the thick, heavy, custom-made tumbler in her long fingers, the liquid taking on the color of the early evening sun streaming through the carelessly draped blinds.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Ms. Allende.”
Paloma’s eyes widened. That was a loaded thing to say.
“Here? In my suite?”
Deryn was silent for too long before nodding, and Paloma realized she had just been lied to. Whether on purpose or because Deryn herself was unaware of the truthful answer, she didn’t know.
“You texted that you needed to discuss the campaign. I assumed Lachlan had talked to you about your set of responsibilities when you signed the contract.”
Deryn muttered something that sounded like “He probably did,” and Paloma narrowed her eyes.
“You brushed Lachlan off, didn’t you?”
“He tends to talk too much.”
“He does not!” Paloma was entirely unsure why she was suddenly so defensive of someone she had met just a few weeks ago. And a man at that. And one who did indeed talk too much.
They sat in silence before Paloma finally let out a breath.
“Okay, should we start from the beginning? You are my very famous, very influential?—”
“You look like you’re swallowing medicine as you’re saying that.” Deryn frowned. “I am famous and influential.”
Paloma growled and continued. “Verylocalgirlfriend. You attend events with me and don’t say anything. That isn’t very hard. Even for you.”
“Hey!” Deryn’s outburst woke the kitten, who was now glaring daggers at her owner. Though Paloma was rather certain that the ownership would end up being completely reversed. Deryn patted the little gray body awkwardly and earned another swipe of claws for her trouble.
“Damn it. Why is she this vicious?” Tiny red welts popped up on the back of her hand, and when blood welled up, Paloma shook her head and stood. She retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom and motioned for Deryn to sit by the window. Farther from the cat. Better safe than sorry.
Deryn sat docilely in the uncomfortable chair, stooping a bit to accommodate Paloma, who rummaged in the bag, looking for disinfectant and a Band-Aid.
“I assume she’s scared. The possum found the litter in the dumpster? And she looks to be about three months old, maybe a little more, so while she’s old enough to be safely separated from her mother, she is still very young. She’s lashing out because she’s afraid.” Paloma looked at the bags under Deryn’s eyes and bit her lip to keep from smiling at her misfortune. “I would also like to note that the sleepless nights are entirely of your own doing. Well, maybe yours and Rhiannon’s, because at three months, kittens no longer need a bottle. They’re perfectly happy being weaned at two months.”
With Deryn still pouting, Paloma took the bleeding hand and examined it in the sunlight. Three scratches. Nothing too bad.
“Will I get rabies?” Deryn’s whisper was especially pitiful.
Paloma gripped the fingers in hers tighter, trying not to smile. Why was she always smiling around this woman?
“I know your sister, and I know Ms. Fowler, and I am perfectly certain they have vaccinated the cats. She is a healthy kitten, Ms. Crowhart.”
Deryn winced as the alcohol stung at the cuts.
“I think Rhy might want to murder me and send this spawn of the devil to finish the job.”
Paloma dabbed the wipe harder, making Deryn yelp.
“Is ‘Drama’ your middle name, Ms. Crowhart?”
Deryn glanced up from beneath the longest lashes Paloma had ever seen. How had she not noticed before?
Was everything about the woman this utterly ridiculous?
The eyes of liquid emerald certainly were. The unfairness of having been endowed by the universe with all this beauty…
