Page 116 of The Price of Scandal

“Veto,” I said, enunciating each letter with venom.

“If I recall correctly, you are out of vetos.”

It was true. I’d used up my three vetoes in record time.

“Don’t youdarebe smug with me. You went behind my back, again! I can’t believe I trusted you. After this weekend—” I dropped the sentence and the thought. Forget last weekend. He’d wormed his way into my trust, and now it was time to remove the pest.

“It’s in your calendar,” he said blandly. His tone made me want to punch him in the throat.

“I beg your pardon?” I said icily.

“I put the interview in your calendar. Your trust wasn’t misplaced, just your ability to read a calendar and my forgetfulness to mention it to you in person. Which is inexcusable.”

I dug my phone out of my bag and stabbed at the screen.

Son of a bitch.

“You just put this in here, didn’t you?”

“The magazine confirmed on Friday. I added it to your calendar then.”

“I’ve been busy since Friday. You didn’t think to mention it?” I’d been busy having sex with Derek and meeting his family. Wearing his boxers. Opening up to him. Dammit. The bastard was a sneaky, untrustworthy, colossal distraction.

He rose and came around his desk.

I held up a warning finger. “Keep your distance because I’m mad enough to violate your face,” I warned him.

“It’s true,” Jane said from the door. “The boss has been itching to violate someone’s face for years. Be a shame if it was your pretty one.”

He held his hands up in a show of surrender. “It’s one of the biggest online media organizations in the world,” he said. “Their readership is huge, and the only way they would agree to do the article was if you gave them full-access.”

“She’s staying in Bluewater,” I snapped. “Following me to meetings. Is she going to shadow me to the bathroom, too?”

“What are you afraid of?” he asked.

“Oh, boy,” Jane muttered behind me. “That was stupid.”

“I’mnotafraid,” I spat the words out.

“This is how I’m going to get you your IPO, Emily. I’m sorry I didn’t explicitly explain what was happening. That was my mistake. A colossal one. But I’m not screwing you over. I’m saving you. So tell me what you’re afraid of?”

Of losing the last shred of privacy I had. Of stripping myself of my dignity and begging for approval. Of opening myself up to the judgment of one person who could influence thousands. And what if I came up short? The thoughts tumbled through my head like sopping wet clothes in a dryer. I loathed that he could read me well enough to see that it was fear behind the anger.

“I’m afraid of putting public opinion on the shoulders of one woman who’s already decided she doesn’t like me,” I snapped.

“You’re an incredible woman, Emily, and it’s time the rest of the world saw beyond that curated facade. This is your chance to show who you are.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Derek?”

“I was a little distracted this weekend,” he said, sliding a hand around the back of his neck. “A lot distracted. And I forgot.”

Was that a line? A lie? Did he naturally spin everything? For all his talk of honesty and vulnerability, was he capable of practicing what he preached?

“And maybe I was a little terrified of how you’d react,” he admitted.

That at least rang true.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly. Deeply. I wanted to bring it up in the best way—”