And today, with an interview in front of hundreds, live-streamed to God knew how many more, she’d take another step toward her lofty goals.
Samson? He was trash. A speed bump. A football player who said “nothing serious” a few months ago and now said he was “looking for the one” because he was getting paid? He could fuck right off. She wasn’t going to let him live rent-free in her brain.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Lakshmi handed Rhiannon her phone from the table, interrupting her fierce musings. “Text your mom.”
That was right. Rhiannon might own the world, but her mama owned her. “Thanks.” Rhiannon opened her texts and scrolled to her mother’s last message. She had two modes when it came to texts: reply immediately, or decide to reply later and completely forget, which was why she had Lakshmi to remind her.
Good luck with the interview! Lakshmi sent me the link. I’ll be listening.
No pressure. Rhiannon typed her response. Going on soon, thanks. ILU.
Text bubbles. And then: I know how much time you spend on your phone, you can type out I love you. I love you too.
“Knock, knock!” Helena Knight billowed into the room. The former comedian/television personality/lifestyle magazine editor in chief and current evening talk-show host was taller than Rhiannon, her model-thin body clad in a stylish green cape dress. Rhiannon came to her feet.
Helena placed her hand on her bosom. “It’s so nice to meet you, Rhiannon. I admire you greatly.”
They exchanged air kisses, and Rhiannon gave her a genuine smile, something about her warm manner giving her a good vibe. “Likewise, Helena. This is my assistant, Lakshmi.”
“Charmed. Oh my, I love your hair.” Helena fingered her own red hair. “Do you think I could pull off that style?”
Lakshmi cocked her head and studied her critically. “Possible. You have a nicely shaped head.”
Helena tittered, her hair tugging transforming into twirling. “Why, thank you. As do you.”
Unnoticed, Rhiannon rolled her eyes. No matter the environment, men and women often gave Lakshmi second or third looks. Her assistant exuded some kind of magnetism that no one was really immune to. “Thank you so much for sending your questions in advance, Helena.”
Helena dragged her gaze away from Lakshmi reluctantly. “Oh, not a problem. I may stray a bit or reword, based on how the interview goes, but those will be the main ones. And I’ll stay away from the topics your team requested.”
Rhiannon kept her expression placid, relieved. Like most people, Suzie, Crush’s fearsome marketing leader, didn’t have all the information on what had caused Rhiannon’s career implosion at Swype, but the woman had diligently shoved that time period into a laundry list of other taboo interview topics. “Sounds good.” Rhiannon pressed her hand over her belly, to quell the flutter of nerves there. No one would believe she got a bit of stage fright, but she did. “Are the questions from the audience going to be prescreened?”
“The moderator is requesting people write them down and turn them in, yes. She’ll pick a few to read at the end.” Lakshmi paused her fussing at the makeup table to assure her. “I’ve already threatened her if she picks a stinker.”
“Now that’s an assistant.” Helena eyed Lakshmi with avarice, but Rhiannon wasn’t concerned her assistant could be easily lured away. No one could afford Lakshmi. Rhiannon paid her better than some of her competitors paid their executives.
“She’s the best,” Rhiannon simply said.
“I’m so excited for this interview,” Helena said. “I’ve been following your career for a while, and I love Crush’s mission statement. It’s about time that the conference highlights the women in this industry.”
“I agree.” Rhiannon couldn’t have imagined four years ago that she’d be here, about to talk to Helena in front of a large audience at a major conference, joined by another woman entrepreneur. A lot changed in a few years. Global movements came and went, the tide shifted, people became marginally more accepting.
Not totally. Not where they should be, if everything was equalized. But margins were better than nothing, or so Rhiannon told herself.
Helena wrinkled her nose. “Now, I did come in here to break some bad news. Unfortunately, Annabelle Kostas won’t be joining us. She’s still feeling ill and had to step out at the last minute.”
There went her chance to get to Annabelle. Lakshmi had called it. Rhiannon wondered if the woman was really sick or simply couldn’t bear to face a crowd at all. Disappointed as she was, compassion moved through Rhiannon. She knew quite a bit about phobias. “I’m fine filling an hour on my own.”
“I’d be fine with that, too, but she actually sent a proxy in her place. She assured me he knows everything about the company, has been around the business for years.”
Rhiannon’s heart lurched. “Oh?” It was William. It had to be William. Why would they send a flashy hot new spokesman, when they could send the company’s CEO, a longtime employee?
“He’s a lovely man, I met him at the party last night. He’s getting micced offstage. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” She waved and walked out.
Ask. Just to make sure it is who you think it is. “Did she send William?” Rhiannon asked, following behind her, leaving Lakshmi behind in the dressing room.
“My understanding is William already left to return to L.A., but we’re in good hands.”
Rhiannon’s stomach roiled as they walked up behind a tall, dark-haired, muscular man standing not far from the stage. She fixed her gaze over his shoulder. The shoulder she’d dug her fingernails into.
It was fine. This wasn’t the first time she’d sat across from a man she’d had sex with and had to pretend everything was fine. It had been years, but surely one didn’t forget that skill.
So long as he kept his mouth shut and followed her lead, everything would be . . . fine.
At their approach, he glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes grew wide. Meanwhile, the knot in her stomach tightened. She could count on one hand the number of powerful men she knew who were capable of following a woman’s lead. What were the odds he was one of them?
Sleeping with this guy was going to bite her in ways she never could have anticipated when she’d been sitting on that lounge chair in Cayucos, swiping away on her phone, cursing the rental house’s slow Wi-Fi.
“Samson Lima,” Helena said sweetly. “Please meet Rhiannon Hunter.”
Chapter Four
RHIANNON.
Samson rolled the name around his head, tasted it, examined it. It should have sounded wrong and foreign, given that he’d been thinking of her as Claire for months. Especially since Claire had been the name he’d groaned when he’d been inside her.
But Rhiannon suited her. Rhiannon was witchy and mysterious and secretive, and her shadowed eyes were all those things.
“Samson is the new spokesman for Matchmaker.” Helena beamed at him. “Rhiannon is the founder and creator of Crush. It’s the dating app for women, as they say.”
“It’s the dating app for everyone,” Rhiannon corrected, and Samson didn’t miss the steel beneath her pleasant reply.