Page 106 of The Price of Scandal

She crossed to me and playfully hooked her fingers in the waistband of my pants. “Nope.”

“This could really push public opinion in your favor,” I reminded her.

“Derek, this is so much bigger than public opinion. This is bigger than Flawless and the IPO. This is entirely separate. I don’t want to start cross-pollinating CEO me with Lab Rat me. This is the one thing that I have that is entirely mine. I’m not sharing it with a few million social media followers.”

I understood. I didn’t love it. But I understood.

“This is impressive,” I said, watching Esther scroll through spreadsheets of meaningless data.

“We’re just getting started,” Emily said.

Yes. We were.

34

Emily

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, yawning in the passenger seat as I pulled the tie from my hair. The excitement of more than a dozen pre-teen girls coupled with scientific achievement had left me with an adrenaline crash.

I needed coffee before I could even think about facing my Sunday evening to-do list. A CEO’s job was never done. Some people could build their empires and then hand over the reins and take to the golf course. I was not one of those people.

Derek had won the brief but entertaining wrestling match for the keys to the Porsche. I hadn’t put up much of a fight. I hated to admit it, but I was still not firing on all cylinders. Still tired, it was the price paid for what I’d earned. The work didn’t do itself.

“Dinner,” he said, picking up my hand and bringing it to his lips.

Salsa, wildly romantic, played from the stereo’s speakers.

This moment, with the sun sinking in the spring sky, with the Miami breeze ruffling my very daring haircut, with the debonair Derek Price driving the convertible I’d earned, was perfection.

“Dinner sounds wonderful.” I sighed.

“It will be. My stepfather is grilling.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in.

“No. Absolutely not,” I insisted, sitting up straighter. I chose that moment to realize today was the first time I’d ever ridden in the passenger seat.

“I’ve met your family,” he pointed out.

“That wasbusiness. That wasn’t a cozy family dinner!”

“There’s nothing cozy about this. I have a brother and two sisters, my stepsiblings, and somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty nieces and nephews,” he said conversationally.

“Derek, you can’t introduce me to your family.” I was horrified.

“Why not?”

Why not?There were a few dozen reasons why not. I was his client,nothis girlfriend. Secondly, to the public, I was the rich bitch who skated on drug charges. And to round out the perfect trifecta of why I shouldn’t be meeting his parents: We. Just. Had. Sex.

Sex. Not conversations about where this was going or what the expected outcomes were. We’d had glorious, glorious sex, and nowI was supposed to shake hands with the man’s mother? I probably still smelled vaguely like her naked son.

“I mean,whyare you doing this?” I tried to squash the nerves that were suddenly electrifying my intestines.Oh, God, did I have my emergency Imodium stash in this bag?

“I think you’ll find my family more relaxing than some of your regular social situations,” he said. He was too polite to mention the fact that my family was like a reality TV reunion special where someone invariably got punched in the mouth.

“I’m not in ‘meet new people’ form,” I argued.

“This isn’t for a photo op or anything other than a good meal and interesting company,” he promised.