Page 141 of The Price of Scandal

I couldn’t sleep. Luna’s guest room was beautifully appointed in a Zen-yoga studio style complete with white noise machine, aromatherapy diffuser, and a lavender eye pillow. The bedding was soft and plush. The art was soothing, and there was a stack of poetry volumes on the chrome nightstand.

And I couldn’t stop thinking.

After overthinking it for an embarrassing amount of time, I opened the bag Derek had packed for me. My favorite pajama set, organic cotton shorts and a long-sleeve tee, were neatly folded on top. He’d included gym clothes and sneakers, a dress and wrap-around strappy sandals, three packets of Imodium, and a bag of my usual makeup and hair products.

The man had packed better for me than I had.

There was a notecard tucked in between the layers of clothing.

Emily.

My name was scrawled across the envelope.Going forward, did I want my name passing Derek Price’s lips?

I leaned back against the great wall of organic silk-cased pillows and closed my eyes.

What do you want?

Derek’s favorite question echoed in my head as I fingered the envelope.

What did I want?Now that my box had exploded open. That there were no walls, no structure. What did I want?

My iPad, another thoughtful addition to the overnight bag, vibrated.

Messages. I assumed there were many.

I debated another long moment because what else did I have to do? Besides write my resignation letter, of course. I pulled it free of the pocket.

I wondered if Derek had done anything all day long besides call and text me. There were dozens of messages from him. I skipped over them. There wasn’t a single part of me that was prepared to have any direct contact with the man yet. Not when I was so… damaged. My defenses were down, and I couldn’t engage with him until my head was clear.

Ugh. There were more voicemails from my mother. Steeling myself, I clicked on the latest one from an hour ago. It looked as though I wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping tonight.

“Emily. It’s your mother. I don’t know why you’re not returning my calls, but we have a family emergency. Trey needs to leave the country. There’s some nonsense about a warrant, and frankly we just need to buy some time until your legal team can get involved. I need you to have the plane ready for him tonight. He says Vietnam doesn’t have extradition and has nice beaches. And I’m sure he can get by on a few hundred thousand.”

No “Your father told me what happened and I’m so sorry/angry/hurt on your behalf.” No “Are you all right? This has to be devastating.”

She was incapable of loving me in the way that I needed to be loved. The realization was both painful and a relief.

I used the phone on the nightstand and dialed my mother.

She answered immediately.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Emily, oh thank God! Where have you been? I need your help.”

“Did you talk to Dad?” I asked, interrupting her.

“He is insistent that Trey handles this on his own,” she scoffed as if it were the most ridiculous notion she’d ever heard.

“I mean about me. About Flawless, Mom.”

“What? Oh, he mentioned something about you resigning. You keep the money and don’t have to do any of the work,” she said airily. I could picture her waving it away like a tiny gnat not worthy of her attention. “Emily, this is an emergency. I need you to get your plane ready. Have you talked to your attorneys? I can’t get ours to return my calls. I think your father forbade them from getting involved.”

I was losing family members left and right. Their titles and blood suddenly no longer good enough to earn them a place in my life.

My mom continued her tirade over the injustice of Trey being held accountable. “I wouldn’t be able to show my face in public ever again. Bethenny would positively salivate over a morsel like this.”

“No, she wouldn’t, Mom. Because Bethenny doesn’t give two shits about you and your image. She’s too busy living her life and being happy. You should try it sometime.”