He takes a single step toward her, and she backs up, upsetting one of the dessert tables and sending cookies and cake bites tumbling to the ground. “You keep your hands off me,” she shrieks. “You can’t manhandle me. You can’t touch me.”
“You’re leaving, Marianna,” Damien says, the deceptive calm of his voice hiding an ocean of anger. He lifts his left wrist and glances down at his watch, then taps the watch face. “You can leave civilly or you can leave with an escort. But either way, you’re ending up outside those gates in less than five minutes.”
“Fuck. You.” She thrusts her chin out, then steps right in front of Damien, her eyes narrowed into slits. “You think you’re above everything, don’t you. Well, think again. You’ve crossed the wrong person, Damien Stark. I’ll destroy you. You just wait and see if I don’t.”
The doors open to the left, and I see one of the wide-eyed volunteers hurry that direction, presumably to tell the new person that the hall isn’t yet ready for guests. Except the person stepping into the hall is Ryan, and he makes a subtle hand motion that has the volunteer backing off. Then, with laser focus, he approaches Damien, acknowledging me with a quick nod and Marianna with a dismissive glance.
“Trouble, Mr. Stark?”
“Ms. Kingsley has become confused and can’t remember the way out. Could you escort her off the premises?”
“Not a problem.” He stares down Marianna, his expression cold enough to freeze ice in hell. “If you’d just come with me, please.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to argue. Then her gaze skims over Ryan, who stands there looking strong and dangerous. I see her swallow, then nod.
They get about two steps away when she turns back, her expression hard. “This isn’t over, Stark.”
“Noted,” he says, then turns his back on her to take my hand and lead me to the far side of the room.
“Can she?” I ask.
His eyes narrow slightly. “Can she what?”
“Well, she said she’d destroy you, and I know she can’t manage that. But can she make trouble?”
He strokes my cheek as he shakes his head. “Baby, she already tried that and we beat her. All she can do now is talk big. And we don’t have to listen.”
“Good.” I brush a light kiss over his lips. “That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say.”
Outside, someone clangs the triangular bell that hangs in front of the dining hall, signaling to everyone that the food service has begun—and signaling to me that I’ll soon be standing at that podium spilling my heart out to a room full of people.
“You okay?”
I look up, realizing that Damien is watching me intently. “Of course.” I force a smile. “Mind wandering.”
From his expression, I’m not sure he believes me, but the next moment he’s called away by one of the foundation’s board members. I kiss him on the cheek, then point to Jamie, who’s just entered the hall alongside Ryan. “Find me later,” I tell him, then scoot away before I catch another worried glimpse.
“What’s up?” Jamie asks when I come up and hook my arm around her waist, then lean against my best friend for support.
“Nothing,” I say, which is a lie that has her rolling her eyes.
“Ignore her,” Ryan says, obviously referring to Marianna and not to Jamie. “She’s no threat to Damien.”
“Of course she’s not,” I say. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it when she gets in his face.”
All of which is true, but I can tell from Jamie’s expression that she knows that’s not the entire story. “Spill,” she orders me after she tugs me to the side with the excuse that we’re making a run for the dessert table before all the kids pick it clean.
“I guess this is moot now, but I called the magazine. That editor? Doesn’t exist. And they’ve never used a reporter named Mary Lee, freelance or staffed. She was totally scamming you.”
“Considering what just happened, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“But you’re okay?” Jamie’s eyeing me intently.
“Absolutely.”
She’s silent for a beat, then she cocks her head to the side, crosses her arms, and stares me down. “Um, BFF here, remember? You want to try that answer again?”
I sigh loudly. “It’s nothing. Really.” I speak firmly, because I mean it. “She just got in my head.”
Jamie wrinkles her nose. “Well, get her out. Ick.”
I laugh, feeling better. Then better still after I snag a tiny cheesecake and follow Jamie toward a table in the back. We’re about halfway across the room when Bree bounces up with Rory in tow.
“Having fun?” I ask unnecessarily. It’s clear from her face—not to mention the way her arm is linked through Rory’s—that she’s having a great time.
“I just wanted to say thanks again for letting me have the day off. I really wanted to be here for your talk, and then when I found out that Rory was coming, too, well, you know.” She lifts her shoulders in a happy shrug. “And, yeah, we’re having a blast.”
Her happiness is infectious, and I grin. “I’m really glad to hear it. And it’s great to see you again, Rory.”
“You, too, Mrs. Stark.” He aims a finger at me. “Looking forward to your speech.”
“Great,” I say, as a fresh lump settles in my gut.
“Interesting fellow,” Ryan says after Rory and Bree are out of earshot.
“You know him?” I frown as we settle at a table.
“I know of him,” Ryan clarifies, then grabs a bite-sized chocolate cake off of Jamie’s plate.
“Um, hello?” she says, then frowns. “Never mind. Go for it. I have to be on camera soon anyway. Save my teeth from flecks of chocolate and my hips from Lacey Dunlop.”
“What do you mean, you know of him?” I press, ignoring Jamie. “Oh, Ryan, you didn’t,” I continue, ignoring my own question.
He pops another little cake into his mouth. “It’s what I do,” he says after he swallows. “You don’t really think Damien would have it any other way?”
I frown because I should have realized that Damien would have his people check out our nanny’s new boyfriend. “All right. What did you learn?”
“Rough past. Abusive dad who skipped out, thank goodness. Mom with no education who struggled to feed him, then bounced. He ended up in foster care. Walked when he was fifteen. Lived on the street, supported himself by selling pot. Not a user, though. Or not much. Took the GRE. A ridiculously smart kid,” he says. “Got lucky a cop saw potential and offered to pay for a few community college classes if he quit selling. Rory did, and the cop kept his word. Then got his name in front of the foundation way back in the early days. Now he works as a financial manager at one of the investment firms downtown.”
I nod; Bree already told me that.
“He’s good at his job, but he’s Peter Pan.” Ryan says this part with a smile, and Jamie rolls her eyes. I, however, frown at him, confused.
“He’s been at four different firms in half as many years,” Ryan explains. “Does well, but hasn’t settled.”
“He’s saying Rory hasn’t grown up,” Jamie translates.
“That kind of childhood, might take him a while to find his place,” I say.
Ryan nods. “And if the profile that his foundation scholarship was built from is any indication, he should be working in R&D. Not moving other people’s money.”
“Cut him a break,” Jamie says. “Hell, I’m still not sure that I’ve figured out what I want to be when I grow up.”
I meet Ryan’s eyes and we share a grin. We both know that Jamie is doing exactly what she was born to do.
“All I care about is that he’s right for Bree,” I say firmly. “And so far, they seem giddy together.”
Damien joins us, but waves off Jamie’s invitation to sit. “Nikki and I are needed in the back. You ready?”
I want to say no—my stomach is in knots—but as soon as Damien takes my hand, I feel calmer. This is my choice, after all. I c
an do it. With Damien at my side, I can do anything.
As Annabelle Tate, the recently appointed Executive Director of the Foundation, steps up to the podium, Damien and I disappear toward the back. We pass Jackson and Sylvia’s table, and they both mouth words of encouragement, as do Bree and Rory, who are sharing their table. I haven’t seen Abby and Travis, but I’m sure they’re around somewhere, and I know Jamie will invite them to join her and Ryan before Jamie goes off to meet her cameraman and do her reporter thing.
The podium is set up in front of the hall’s far wall, a curtain behind it that leads to an open door. Damien and I are now behind the curtain in a staging area that leads to the kitchen. Servers and foundation personnel move with purpose all around us, but Damien doesn’t pay them any attention at all. Instead, he is focused entirely on me.