“You’re here with him?” Marion points at Emmett, his gaze sweeping my boss up and down, almost too thoroughly to be polite. Emmett’s dressed casually, and so am I, although Marion isn’t inspecting me to compare, thank God!
Emmett shoots him a razor-edged look. “Yes, she is. We’re on business.”
“On a Saturday evening?” Marion’s tone says bullshit. His fiancée is still swaying on his arm, but he doesn’t make a move to take her back to their table.
“Some of the best deals are done on weekends. Those of us who had to climb the ladder on our own know this.” Emmett blinks innocently.
“Well. Dragging an associate out on a weekend for a job.” Marion tsks and turns to me, hooking a thumb at Emmett. “He can’t possibly be worth this level of personal sacrifice.”
I give him an awkward smile and take the fifth.
“Loyalty,” Emmett says. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Time to defuse the situation! “It’s my job,” I announce.
Marion ignores Emmett. “Loyalty is a two-way street. And this guy won’t be there for you when you need him. If I were you, I’d be choosy about who I gave my loyalty to.”
My God. Emmett’s my boss, not the man I gave my heart and soul to! But from the way Marion’s talking, Emmett and I are about to tie the knot and make a baseball team’s worth of babies.
“I don’t feel so goooo…” Brandie whines. Her head droops and sways back and forth, hair hanging like seaweed.
“Maybe you should take her back to your table?” I say, half standing to catch her in case she collapses. “Or a bathroom?” I’m also desperate to have Marion go away.
“Very classy, holding a conversation while holding a nearly passed-out woman,” Emmett says. “I guess this would be your version of multitasking?”
Marion turns with a retort, but Brandie’s face plops on his chest, then slowly slides down, her eyes closed.
Cursing, he carries her away.
I let out a soft breath. “You didn’t have to be so mean about the fiancée. I had a drunk incident, too.”
“Yeah, but A, you aren’t my fiancée, and B, you were highly entertaining. If you’re going to be drunk, you have to be fun. Otherwise, it’s just crass.” Emmett taps his fingers on the menu. “How do you know that idiot, anyway?”
“Oh, I interviewed with his firm once. When I was, uh, looking for a job during my second year at Wharton.”
Emmett’s eyes turn flinty. Like Dirty Harry about to shoot a sc
umbag. “Fucker,” he mutters finally. “Should’ve known. You must’ve made an impression for him to remember you after all these years.”
Crap. “I guess.” I give him what I hope is an innocent smile.
“At least I don’t think he noticed anything about us. Second teamer for sure.” He picks up his menu. “Let’s order dinner.”
Relieved that he’s dropping the topic, I nod. And make a mental note to be more careful.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emmett
“Okay, you Martian body snatcher. Where’s my brother and what have you done with him?” Grant says, strolling into my office on Monday before the floor starts teeming with analysts and associates.
“What do you want? I have a lot of stuff to get through.” Gotta make up for the work I didn’t do over the weekend.
He peers at me. “When you talk like that, you sound like the brother I know, but…”
“Yesss…?”
“You’ve been too cheery,” he says in the same tone a doctor might say, “Your condition is terminal.”