Page 28 of The Temporary Fiancée
“Yes. Understood.”
“We need to plan how we’re announcing your engagement. There’s no time to waste. I’m penciling you in for a meeting with the PR team on Monday.”
“I’ll be there,” I assure him.
“Good. You’d better be.” There’s something settled in his voice, like he’s about to end this conversation.
Quickly, before he can, I ask, “By the way, before you go—I have a quick question.”
“What do you want?” His voice is irritable. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”
“Of course. I was just wondering… when was the last time you saw Mrs. Quinn?” I try to keep my voice level as I bring up Olivia’s mother. I don’t want to make him suspicious.
“Who, the housekeeper?” My father scoffs. “Haven’t seen her since I fired her.”
“You fired her?” That’s news to me. “When? Why?”
“Some years back. She was taking too many sick days. What does this have to do with anything, anyway? You know I’m busy.”
My grip on the phone tightens. The idea of Mrs. Quinn being fired like that—especially since I know she’s really ill—doesn’t sit right with me, but I can’t say anything else. I’ll have to look into it later on my own.
“Ah, never mind,” I say. “It’s nothing. I’ll talk to you?—”
The dial tone sounds in my ear. My father hung up before I could even finish my sentence.
Typical.
“Later,” I mutter to myself, lowering the phone.
After a conversation like that, I need a drink. Speaking to my father never fails to stress me out. I keep a decanter of whiskey on the bookshelf in my office for that very reason.
I pour myself a drink and settle back. If my friends are coming over tonight, I need to loosen up a little before they arrive. Nobody gets me wound up like Lionel, and I don’t want Cole or Declan to think that anything is wrong. I need their support through all of this.
For a while, I’m alone in my office, which is a good refresher after that call. It’s around twenty minutes before I’m interrupted by the buzz of my phone. I glance at it; there’s a text from my assistant.
I get up and head over to my private elevator just as the soft chime sounds and the doors slide open. My assistant, Nate, holds a package out to me. “The gift you ordered,” he says.
“Thanks, Nate.” I take the package. Earlier, while I was drafting the contract, I got sidetracked looking for a gift for Olivia—a thank-you present. She’s doing me a huge favor, and even if she’s being paid for it, I’m still grateful. Plenty of people would’ve turned me down.
Nate gives me a nod, then leaves. I glance down the hall and make eye contact with Olivia, who has her head poked out of her new room, a quizzical expression on her face. She must have heard the elevator.
“What’s that?” she asks curiously, emerging from the room. Her hair is down, cascading over her shoulders, and looks freshly styled.
I hold up the package. “It’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Little token of my appreciation.”
She approaches cautiously, as if she’s worried the package will contain a live grenade, or something. I set it in her arms, and she opens the top of it to reveal a carefully-folded, elegantly-embroidered bodice of silver chiffon.
She stares from the dress to me, open-mouthed. “This is for me?”
“Well, I don’t think it’d fit me,” I say, deadpan.
“But—but I didn’t?—”
“It’s no big deal,” I say with a shrug. “There are some shoes in there, too. Something to wear tonight, if you want.”
