Rhiannon’s signature look wasn’t an affectation. It was a necessity, a thing that made her feel comforted and secure. “I wasn’t raised in a barn. I have acceptable clothes to wear.”
“I love you, Rhiannon.”
Another flood of guilt. “I love you, too, Ma.” She paused. “I’m sorry I don’t call you more.”
“I would tell you to remember to call me every day but I know you won’t do that. Call me at least once a week so I can stop talking to all your friends,” Sonya instructed her. “And that way, you know I’m still alive. I’m not getting any younger, you know. I could break a hip and lie on the floor for days and you wouldn’t even know.”
“I would know,” Rhiannon murmured. Her mom might have a network of well-meaning spies in Lakshmi and Katrina, but Rhiannon quietly kept tabs on her mother’s credit cards and bank accounts. If her paper trail ever varied or went silent for longer than a day, Rhiannon either checked up on her or had Gabe do it.
She and her mom were more alike than either of them wanted to admit. Wasn’t that a scary thought?
“What was that?” Sonya asked.
“Uh, nothing. Yeah, I will call you. Sorry to make you worry, Ma.” She hung up as Lakshmi appeared in her doorway. “If my mother tells you to dose me with vitamins, please don’t.”
Lakshmi cocked her head. “So does this mean I stop crushing vitamin D into your peanut butter sandwiches, or . . . ?” When Rhi narrowed her eyes, her assistant shook her head. “J/k. Hey, so, someone’s here to see you.”
“To see me?” They didn’t have the kind of business where she got visitors. Any meetings were usually scheduled well in advance. She rose from the window seat.
Lakshmi glanced over her shoulder, then slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Samson Lima? The football guy?”
Her heart stopped for a second, then started again. In that second, she made an aborted motion to tidy her hair, but stopped herself. “Oh. Uh.”
Lakshmi’s gaze lingered on her hand. When her eyes met Rhiannon’s again, there was a glimmer of understanding there.
One that Rhiannon did not want to see. “You know I asked him to get ahold of Annabelle for me,” Rhiannon said sharply. “He must have received some news.”
“Uh-huh.” Lakshmi crossed the soft pink carpet to stand in front of her. She grasped Rhiannon’s chin in her hand, tilted her face up, and eyed her critically. Then she reached into the purse she wore on her hip and pulled out two tubes.
“What are you doing? I don’t need any makeup.” Rhiannon didn’t jerk her face out of Lakshmi’s hand, even though it would have been easy enough to do so.
“You’re absolutely right, you don’t. You’re pretty stunning no matter what. But you went to fix your hair when I told you who was here, which tells me you’re not totally secure in how you look right this minute. Let me help you feel confident.”
Rhiannon didn’t protest anymore. In fact, she closed her eyes, letting Lakshmi put a coat of mascara on her lashes and quickly line and fill her lips in. Lakshmi took a step back and gave her a sweet smile. “Feel better?”
Rhiannon nodded. She didn’t wear much makeup, but here was another layer. Lakshmi always knew what she needed. “Send him in.”
When Lakshmi left, Rhiannon darted to her desk. She sat, opened the drawers, shoved the stacks of paper into them, and then arranged a notepad and a pen on the empty surface.
When the door opened again, Samson’s huge form following Lakshmi in, Rhiannon leaned back in her leather chair, twining a pen between her fingers. She nodded at Lakshmi, dismissing her, then raised a cool eyebrow at Samson. “What a surprise,” she said loudly as the door closed. Hopefully Lakshmi heard that.
He smiled, his eyes as warm as they’d been when she’d accosted him in that garden. So warm she dropped the pen. Damn it.
“I’m sorry to bother you at work.” He sat down in the chair opposite her desk, adjusting his big body in the smaller pink chair. He glanced around her office curiously, and she tried not to bristle and guard her domain like a feral dog.
She was aware her office didn’t look like what people expected from her. Crush’s signature colors, sherbet pink and bright yellow, dominated. From the second a person walked into this building, Rhiannon had wanted them to feel like they were in a cheerful bowl of candy.
Her furniture was small and dainty, chosen more for aesthetics than sturdiness. It did mean that she curled up in her window seat to work more often than not, but that was fine. She had never really owned delicate furnishings. Working for other employers, she’d always had to be on guard against displaying her femininity for fear they would think she wasn’t tough.
Here it didn’t matter. No one could judge her for how she decorated her office because she answered to no one.
She shrugged. “I bothered you at work a few days ago.”
He crossed one leg over the other. Gone was the suit he’d worn for his date; he was back in worn jeans and a long-sleeved ribbed shirt. The sunny yellow of his shirt made his skin pop a warmer brown. “So you did. That’s actually why I’m here.”
She sat up straighter. “You talked to your aunt.”
“No, Aunt Belle hasn’t returned my message yet. Hopefully soon.”
She deflated a little. “Oh.”
“But, in the meantime, I wanted to talk to you about another proposition.” He glanced over his shoulder, and she followed his gaze. The panels on either side of her door were glass, and she rolled her eyes when she saw at least five of her employees, Lakshmi included, loitering at a desk within view of the both of them. “Do you mind if I . . . ?” He gestured at the glass.
She nodded and he walked to the door, closing the blinds with two snaps, making the small office more intimate. She settled deeper into her chair, pressing her palms over her belly to calm some of her butterflies.
He is not here to sex you up. Calm down. “What proposition?”
He nudged his chair closer to her desk, and sat again, handing her his phone. “I had my first date for the campaign after you left. Here’s the raw footage.”
Aw, shit. He was gonna make her watch him turn his sweet smile on that beautiful woman?
She sniffed, to make it supremely clear she did not give a fuck about anything he did or who he talked to, and hit play on the video. “She’s gorgeous,” she admitted in as flat a tone as possible. Just because she didn’t dress up didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate style. The woman exuded glamour, from the tips of her fiery hair to her high strappy sandals.
“Hmm,” Samson agreed. “Keep watching.”
Rhiannon refocused on the meeting, hitting the volume button up so she could properly hear their exchange. After a minute, her eyes went wide. After three minutes, she looked up at him. “Did you seriously ask her if she was wearing hair extensions?”
He rolled his lips in. “Keep watching,” he repeated.
Rhiannon couldn’t help but do just that, and her envy vanished as she watched the couple on the screen with all the horrified fascination of someone watching a train wreck. She winced when Samson choked on a french fry. He took a sip of water, which he then spit on the tablecloth when he was racked by a coughing fit.