Emily had a hard time imagining Donatella
Agnelli intimate with anyone, but then, her idea of intimacy was a lot more
than just sex. “It’s really not something you need to be worried about right
now.”
Derian studied her for a long moment. “Why is
that?”
“You’re here for Henrietta, and once she’s
well, your job is over. The agency isn’t your problem.”
“How do you know Donatella?” Derian said,
ignoring Emily’s attempts to change the subject.
“She showed up this morning at the agency and
says she’s in charge.”
“Martin’s idea, I’m sure,” Derian said.
“I didn’t think to ask exactly where she came
from. She was already ensconced in Henrietta’s office when I arrived, and it
didn’t occur to me that she might not belong there.”
“The lines of command in Winfield Enterprises
are pretty tangled, but Martin and Henrietta are siblings, as you know, and
inherited all of the family’s holdings when my grandparents passed on.
Henrietta didn’t care to be involved, so I understand, in anything other than
the agency. She’d already been there from the time she got out of college. In
order to keep the peace, my father went along with it, and they basically separated
the business interests between the two of them.”
“Formally?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know. I never had any reason to ask.
What’s she been doing so far?”
Emily grimaced. “She’s settled into
Henrietta’s office, and as of this morning, plans to take over all the major
decisions.”
“Dammit,” Derian said. “The last thing
Henrietta’s going to need while she’s recovering is some kind of fight over
who’s in charge at the agency.”
“Maybe it won’t come to that.”
“Nothing Martin and Donatella might do could
be good.” Derian balled up her cashew wrapper and stuffed it in her pocket.
“Aud might know what’s going on, if she’ll tell me. She doesn’t handle the
agency’s legal business, since Henrietta was smart enough to see that as a
conflict of interest, but all the Enterprises attorneys know one another.”
“I’m sorry to drag you into this.”
“Henrietta would want you to run things in
her place.”
“I don’t know—”
“I do,” Derian said with conviction. “And
we’ll need to see that that happens. I’ll call Aud later today.”
“You’ve got more than enough to worry about.
At least let it wait until—”
Derian touched a finger to Emily’s lips. “Let
me do this for you. It’s nothing compared to what your being here means to me.”
Emily’s heart raced as her eyes met Derian’s.
“Would it do me any good to argue?”
Derian’s thumb whispered over her lips.
“None at all.”
Dr. Carter Armstrong sauntered into the waiting
room a little before noon, looking as polished and superior in a set of rumpled
scrubs as he would have in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. His coal-black hair with
just the slightest hint of white at the temples was perfectly in place, showing
no signs of the surgical cap he’d been wearing when Derian had talked to him
right before Henrietta had been taken to the operating room. He zeroed in on
her and flashed a practiced smile. “We’re done. She’s fine.”
Derian impulsively wrapped an arm around
Emily and pulled her close. After a second of head-spinning relief, she met the
surgeon in the middle of the room. “Where is she?”
“In a recovery room, right now. We like to
keep the patients close to the OR for a few minutes after we close, just in
case—although I don’t expect any problems.”
“Can you tell me what you did?”
He gave her a look as if she might not
understand what his greatness had accomplished, but he lifted a shoulder and
acquiesced. “As I explained earlier, her coronaries showed multiple levels of
blockage, probably as a result of some long-term hyperlipidemia—abnormal fat
metabolism—and hypertension. We jumped four grafts to reperfuse the cardiac
muscle. Her signs all look great right now.”
“And long-term?”
“Anything can happen, of course, but barring
complications and if she sticks to her rehab program, watches her diet, and
accepts some reasonable modification in her lifestyle, she should do fine.”
“Define reasonable modification,” Derian
said.
“Well, her hypertension appears to have been
poorly controlled up until this time, and she’ll need to adhere to whatever
program the medical management team institutes. We always suggest cardiac
patients moderate their work schedule and reduce stress.” He must have read the
disbelief in Derian’s face as he shrugged. “Honestly, the future is up to your
aunt—we can only make recommendations. But the surgery was a success.”
“All right, thanks,” Derian said.
“Not at all. The nurses will let you know
when she’s been moved to the cardiac care unit.” He turned and walked away.
Derian had a feeling that was the last she
would see of him, but if he’d done his job, she was fine with that. She turned
to Emily, who’d come to stand beside her. “I didn’t know she had any health
problems, and I should have.”
Emily smiled softly. “You don’t really think
she would’ve told anyone, do you?”
Derian blew out a breath. “If I’d been around
she might have.”
“Derian,” Emily said, “none of this is your
fault. You couldn’t have changed this even if you’d been here. Henrietta is
Henrietta. You know that.”
A muscle jumped in Derian’s jaw, and she
nodded perfunctorily. “You might be right, but I still feel like I let her
down.”
Emily grasped her arm. “You didn’t. You’re
here, and that’s what she needs.”
“I think you’re a lot more of what she needs
than me,” Derian said almost to herself. “When I’m not here, you’re the one
she’ll be counting on.”
Emily flinched inwardly, Derian’s words a
cold dose of reality. Of course Derian wouldn’t be staying. She might be
leaving at any time. Emily squared her shoulders. “Once Henrietta recovers, she
is going to get on with her life, and she’ll expect you to get on with yours.”
“Expect me to disappear again, you mean.”
Emily jammed her hands on her hips and gave
Derian a look. “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who beats herself up
over things that can’t be helped. Since you seem to be determined to kick
yourself, I think you need to take a break. Get something to eat and probably
some sleep.”
Derian grinned wryly. “Diagnosis and
treatment plan appreciated, Doctor, but I’m going to stay here until I’ve seen
Henrietta. And I promise to stop whining.”
Emily softened. “You can whine all you want,
but you still need to take care of yourself.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d
like to stay to see her, but I should get back to the agency. Vonnie probably
needs some help, and she wanted to come over here on her lunch hour.”
Fleeting panic coursed through Derian’s
chest, a sensation she could never recall having before. She didn’t want Emily
to go. “When will I see you again?”
Emily’s brows drew down. “I’m sorry?”
“Look,” Derian said, raking a hand through
her hair, never having been so off balance in her life. “This is crazy. Every
time I see you, we’re in the middle of some kind of crisis. You’ve been keeping
me company, hell, keeping me steady, and I want—” Derian broke off. Emily was
staring at her like she was a little crazy, and she was. She didn’t know what
she was trying to say, what she wanted, but she couldn’t shake the feeling if
she let Emily walk away, she’d regret it forever. “I don’t know how well I
would’ve done through all of this without you being here.”
“You would’ve done just fine,” Emily said
gently. “But I’m glad I was here, and you’ve helped me a lot too.” She paused,
felt a tremendous wave of gratitude swell within. “I’ve talked to you about
things I’ve never talked to anyone about. It helps. I didn’t realize how much I
needed that.”
“Have dinner with me,” Derian said.
Emily laughed, surprise and disbelief in her
voice. “What?”
“Tonight. When everything has quieted down,
and we’re not both scared and anxious. To celebrate Henrietta’s successful
surgery.” Derian took Emily’s hand. “To get to know each other. Please.”
The idea was mad—mad and wonderful, and Emily
broke ranks with her habitual caution, refusing to second-guess the excitement
pulsing through her. “All right, under one condition.”
Derian’s eyebrow winged up. “Oh?”
“This time, I’ll make dinner.”
“You mean, actually cook it?”
Delighted at the consternation on Derian’s
face, Emily laughed. “Yes. You have heard of that?”
“Rumors, but I’ve never actually witnessed
it.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. Seven o’clock.”
“I can’t wait.” Derian grinned, and the worry
and fear in her expression gave way to the rakish charm Emily had glimpsed when
they’d been alone in Derian’s apartment—when Derian had been unabashedly naked,
and unabashedly seductive.
Emily swallowed. What was she doing? Why did
she have to ask? Emily gave her the address and her phone number. “But if
you’re too tired, or if something comes up—”
Derian stroked her finger along the edge of
Emily’s jaw, stilling her. “Nothing will come up. I’ll be there. Red wine or
white?”
“Red,” Emily said softly, looking into
Derian’s eyes. For an instant, nothing else in the world mattered, only the
pull of Derian’s gaze. Warning bells rang, and she ignored them. All her life
she’d been careful and cautious and responsible. She regretted none of it, and
she would not regret this moment, when she chose something because her heart
urged her to.
“Then tonight.”
“Tonight,” Derian whispered.
*
“Any news?” Ron asked the instant Emily
entered his office and plopped onto the sofa across from his desk.
She leaned her head back, closed her eyes,
and let out a long breath. “Surgery is over, successful, and she’s in
recovery.”
Ignoring the nearby chair, he sat on the
coffee table across from her, his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in
his hands. Leaning even closer, he muttered, “Thank God. At least something
around here is going right.”
She opened her eyes, suddenly more tired than
she could remember being in days. She gazed at him. “How bad is it?”
“I can’t imagine it could get any worse.
Well, I can, but I don’t want to.” Shuddering, he glanced toward the door as if
checking that no one was listening. “Donatella has been cloistered behind
closed doors all morning, but every now and then edicts emerge via email. She’s
already terminated four pending approvals and cut Jeremy’s marketing budget by
thirty percent.”
“That will gut our summer title promotions,”
Emily said. “We’ve got co-op agreements with publishers for author tours. We
have to have the funds to cover those.”
“Who’s going to tell her that?”
“I guess that would be me.” Emily rubbed her
eyes. “God, this is terrible. How’s everybody holding up?”
“Everybody’s still pretty much in shock. But
if this goes on—”
“It won’t,” Emily said emphatically. She
needed to stem the decline in morale right now. “Henrietta will be well enough
to delegate responsibility in a few days, and whomever she puts in charge—”
“What are you talking about? That will be
you, of course.”
Emily wasn’t so sure, especially with
Donatella already in residence. If her visa status remained uncertain, she
might even be seen as expendable. The thought was paralyzing, and she forced it
into a dark corner of her mind. She had to deal with what was actually
happening, not what might happen. Still, with the exact timing of Henrietta’s
return uncertain, she had to consider the long term. “Bill might be a better
choice.”
“No way,” Ron said. “I like Bill, you know
that, but he’s terrible at delegating, plus he’s—” He paused as if searching
for a diplomatic term. “He’s got tunnel vision in terms of the marketplace. If
it were up to him, the only thing we’d ever represent would be best-seller
potentials, and that’s not us!”
Emily couldn’t argue. Bill would probably be
one of the few agents who agreed with Donatella’s assessment as to what kind of
titles they should carry. “Right now, none of that matters. We’re going to have
to deal with Donatella.”
He made a face. “What about Henrietta’s
niece?”
“Derian?” Emily’s heart actually raced just
saying her name. Another thought she pushed aside.
“Is she likely to step in?”
“No,” Emily said. “She’s made it very clear
she has no interest in the business.”
“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” he said
hopefully.
“I wouldn’t count on that,” she said as much
to herself as to him. One thing she knew for certain, Derian’s stay was only
temporary.
*
Restless and agitated after Emily’s
departure, Derian walked outside for some air. She bought a hot dog from a
vendor on the corner and ate it standing out of the way of the crowds. When she
finished, she called Aud.
“Dere?” Aud said. “Everything all right?”
“Surgery is done. She’s doing okay. I haven’t
had a chance to see her yet.”
“That’s great news. Are you still at the
hospital?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna stay here for a couple of
hours still.”
“I can’t get away, but I should be free by
dinnertime. I could meet you—”
“Ah, I’ll be tied up later.” Derian smiled to
herself, thinking about dinner with Emily. The anticipation kindled the kind of
excitement she usually only experienced before a big race or a high-stakes
gamble at the tables.
“Oh,” Aud said with a hint of surprise.
“Okay, then.”
“What’s going on at the agency, Aud?” She
expected the silence, but that didn’t prevent the quick flare of annoyance.
“Look, I know Donatella is there, and that’s Martin’s doing. Don’t tell me you
don’t know.”
“That’s not my territory,” Aud said
evasively.