Page 137 of The Price of Scandal

“Rowena, when the attorney gets here, give her access to anything that will help make this all go away.”

“On it! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to fix this.”

“Don’t get arrested! We don’t have enough in petty cash for bail.”

I followed Jane out the door.

“Where is Emily?” I demanded.

“She went home early because she has until nine a.m. tomorrow to resign from Flawless.”

My fist left a sizable and satisfying hole in the drywall.

44

Emily

Betrayal weighed heavily. Much more so than the familiar density of expectation and responsibility. Betrayal left me feeling helpless, hopeless, listless. I wanted to find that life-affirming anger and rouse it back to life.

Angry was better than devastated.

“Here, my beautiful friend.” Luna danced over to me, barefoot and charming in a flowy skirt and crop top. She pressed a goblet of some thick, dark purple liquid into my hands.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s a serenity blend with herbs and fruit juices. The collagen in it will do amazing things for your skin.”

My skin felt too tight. Everything had changed. In just one day, I’d lost everything, and even my body seemed a stranger.

Plus, I’d spent so much time in the bathroom this afternoon that I was dehydrated.

We’d gathered at Luna’s. It hadn’t been spoken aloud, but due to the fact that Derek was so adept at breaking into my own house, I didn’t feel safe there. I couldn’t see him. I would break and either shatter into a thousand pieces or murder him. Daisy would have helped me with the body, but she was on her yacht in the Bahamas.

Luna’s home looked as though her soul had exploded triumphantly over every square foot. We were on her covered terrace listening to the thrum of waves. Colorful lanterns and dazzling strings of lights hung from the ceiling in no particular pattern. The furniture was low and cushioned in purples, reds, and golds. It reminded me of an oceanfront meditation studio on steroids.

Her fountain burbled happily on the flagstone terrace. Beyond it, the pool glowed softly under moonlight. Tealights floated on its surface.

I took a sip of serenity and made a face when Luna wasn’t looking. The woman was heavy-handed with turmeric.

“Moon, how do you work this stereo thing?” Cam demanded from one side of the outdoor fireplace.

“I got it,” Luna said, dancing over to her.

Cam joined me on the low wooden couch with cushions the color of pomegranates. “Here,” she said, handing me a very large glass of wine. “Don’t pour your serenity directly into the plants or they’ll wither up and die. Dig a little hole in the sand.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“We’re worried about you,” she said, taking a gulp from her own glass of wine.

“I’m worried about me, too,” I said dryly. “It’s been a day.”

The music came on from hidden speakers above us. It was chanting monks.

Cam snickered into her wine. “God love her.”

“Let’s go through it beat by beat,” Luna suggested, returning to us and plopping down on a rattan ottoman. “It’s important to let yourself feel the trauma, or it can take root in your body.”