Page 2 of The Dis-Graced

“Why, Mrs. Dallanger, I didn’t know you’d be here to greet me. How lovely it is to see you after all these years,” I say with a sugary-sweet grin.

“My son’s generosity seems to know no bounds when it comes to your family.”

The words land like a sharp slap in the face, just as they were meant to, but I know if I let the jape get to me, Irene will hone in on my weakness.

“If you mean to imply that Drake collaborating with me is charitable, I would advise you to look at my credentials.”

“I’m aware of your credentials, Ms. Anders. Your last project, in particular, is rather impressive,” Irene says with a smirk.

I have no shield against her words, after all, my face is currently plastered in prime position all over the tabloids from my last assignment, and if it wasn’t for Drake, I’d be out of work, untouchable to the world of journalism.

“My Drake has spent years heading Dallanger Tech, bringing it to heights that didn’t seem possible just ten years ago, and I’ll be dead and buried six feet under before I let the likes of you take away anything he’s worked so hard for.”

I place my hands on my hips, facing her squarely. “Oh, puh-lease! You married Mitch Dallanger, heir to an empire. How many companies does Dallanger Corporation head? Dallanger Tech, Dallanger Construction, Dallanger Insurance? Your son was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and you’re acting like he clawed his way to the top. He had every resource and connection available to him on his climb.”

Irene’s eyes narrow, but stay trained on me. As the matriarch of Drake and his three brothers, and the chairwoman of the board of Dallanger Corporation, she is ever protective, and I can’t say I blame her. I just wish she didn’t view me as a threat.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s been a rough week. All I want to do is reestablish myself as a professional journalist. Despite the current headlines, I’m damn good at my job. My portfolio includes many state-level politicians, celebrities, and—”

“And powerful moneymen, if I remember correctly.”

“I interviewed Gabriel Icor, the head of IcorTech, for Greater Gizmo’s fiftieth-anniversary issue.”

“And that noble prize winner—what’s his name?” she returns with a wink.

Brigger, of course she brings him up again. It’s all she sees when she looks at me.

I swallow hard, determined not to say something I’ll later regret. After all, I am at the Dallanger family’s mercy.

“Well, you won’t have any problems from me,” I finally say, hoping to assuage her fears.

“Just having you here, having you working so closely with Drake, is a problem for us, you see.”

“No one is even aware of my presence here. Once I get the footage I need, I’ll edit the project and package it to be sold off to the highest bidder, and that won’t be for at least a year, when things get calmer.”

“I don’t know why he insists on helping you and that misfit brother of yours.”

Oh, no—she didn’t!

“Did you just call my brother a misfit?”

Irene smiles at me in return.

“You listen here! Whatever you think of me should have no bearing on my brother. He graduated with honors from Stanford University—”

“Admitted in on some hardship acceptance, I presume?” she says with a cocked grin. “Oh, and not to mention my husband’s generosity. Someone had to pay his bills.”

Of course the Dallangers paid for Luke’s tuition. It’s not something that was ever talked about, but it makes sense. I try not to be bitter about my brother’s good fortune in life, but if my own weren’t so bad, it would have made things a heck of a lot easier.

“And then he was gifted with a job—”

“How dare you!” I snap, disallowing her from further berating my brother. “If Drake trusts Luke enough to make him the chief financial officer of his company, then maybe he’s owed a little respect!”

Irene closes the distance between us, stopping mere inches from me.

“You’re pretty, I’ll give you that, but I know your game. Women like you have been around since the dawn of time. It’s how you got all those ‘exclusive’ interviews so early in your career.”

My jaw drops and tears form, threatening to spill down my cheeks.