Page 52 of The Price of Scandal

She’d fight me. But I would win.

And a win for me was a win for her.

That would be the next step, I decided, letting myself into my condo.Prying her open like an oyster.

The Miami skyline unfolded in front of me through the glass wall. I was no billionaire. But I certainly did well enough. I’d built my business and my life in a way that suited me. Working hard and playing harder. I lived in a luxury condo building downtown and wore custom-tailored clothing. My business employed a small and aggressively loyal team. I supported my family in ways that made them feel spoiled rather than condescended.

The rest of my time was my own to do with as I saw fit. I boxed and sailed and read. Dated interesting women and spent time with friends and family.

Dumping my keys and wallet in the designated glass dish next to the door, I toed off my shoes.

I shrugged out of my jacket on the way to my bedroom.

In the bathroom, I turned on the water in the shower and stripped down, head full of potential avenues. The puzzle of public opinion and how to manipulate it always fascinated me. In this case, my gut told me the world wanted to see therealEmily Stanton. Not some shiny facade.

The question was, how to crack that very proper veneer and offer the world a peek.

My phone signaled on the vanity, and I glanced at it.

Emily: Stop lurking around Bluewater.

I smirked.

Me: I was an invited guest.

Emily: Remind me to fire Jane tomorrow. Do you shadow all your clients so closely?

Me: Only the ones I’m most interested in. Is your meeting over?

There was the expected pause. I had a policy to be honest, at least when I wasn’t lying for professional gain. I’d discovered that in an ironic twist, people were usually happy to give you what you wanted if you were honest about it.

Emily:Over. Three hours and twenty-two minutes. The time cap will be enacted at the next meeting.

Me: I can’t wait for the sushi.

Emily: I hope my “situation” will be resolved by then.

Me: Then perhaps I’ll be there in another capacity.

I was flirting with her. Shamelessly. It kept her off-center and me entertained.

There was another long pause, during which I felt like a teenager waiting for his crush to respond.

Emily: We do have a bongo player position opening up. I’ll let you know where to send your resume.

A joke from Ms. Stanton. And a victory for me.

Me: Good night, Emily.

Emily: Good night, Derek.

Still smiling, I grabbed a beer from the mini fridge in the bedroom wet bar and took it with me into the shower. Steam billowed around me, blotting out the rest of the world.

The kiss had been a mistake. I didn’t mix business with pleasure. It made things… sticky. However, I also didn’t rigidly adhere to rules. What was the fun in that?

My cock stirred.

It had a habit of doing so when I thought of Emily. Her watchful eyes, the slivers of humor and pride she did her best to hide under the surface. Keeping the real Emily locked away. Was it a protection? Or was it simply the result of pressure?