Page 7 of Everyone’s a Liar

“Yes.”

“Did you tell her I was busy?”

“How? She just announced she was coming and hung up.”

“Thanks.”

Marcel looked offended. “What did you expect me to do?”

“What you always do with people who try to bully you. I’ve seen you make grown men cry.”

“No way. She scares me.”

“Me too,” Livia muttered.

“We could close early and hit happy hour at the Tin Roof.”

A pitcher of margaritas at the corner bar instead of being thrown to the lion? Or rather, the lioness? Yeah, that sounded perfect. The only problem was that she would later regret revealing her cowardice.

“Tempting, but I decided a long time ago I wasn’t going to let my family intimidate me.”

“What about me?” Marcel complained.

“Buckle up, buttercup.” Livia headed around the desk, sending her friend a tight smile. “Word of warning, keep your head high and your spine straight, but don’t look her directly in the eye. That’s how she destroys your soul.”

“That’s not funny.”

Continuing down the short hall into her office, Livia settled at her desk and tried to concentrate on the stack of bills awaiting her attention. She’d wasted far too much time dwelling on Jacob and his mysterious appearance and disappearance in her life, not to mention the effort and expense to upgrade her home security over the weekend.

She would not waste more time worrying about Delilah or what she might want.

Much to her surprise, Livia stayed busy enough to forget about the looming visit for most of the day. It helped that she had several potential clients call, plus a videoconference with a local developer who was converting a historic building into upscale apartments. Livia was eager to get her foot in the door before the units went on sale.

It was after four in the afternoon when she heard a woman’s voice in the front lobby. The voice was too muffled to recognize, but it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. A sure sign that a Benoit was nearby.

A minute later, Delilah confirmed her fear by shoving open the door to her office without bothering to knock and stepping inside.

The tall, painfully thin woman was wearing a silk pantsuit in a pale green with an ivory camisole. The green brought out the expensive golden highlights in her red hair, which was cut into a short bob. Her dark brown eyes were hard and her lips pinched as she spared a glance around the office.

Delilah sniffed, as if annoyed she couldn’t find any fault in the clean, timeless beauty of the elegant décor or the bank of windows that offered a view of the lake.

“I’ll never understand why you hired a man to be your receptionist. He’s so odd,” she complained.

Livia narrowed her gaze, on instant defense as she slowly rose to her feet. She would not let the annoying woman peer down her long nose at her. Of course, she was still several inches shorter than her aunt, but it made her feel better.

“Marcel is my administrative assistant, not my receptionist, and this agency couldn’t function without him.”

Delilah sniffed. “I suppose you think having a man in the office makes you look trendy?”

Livia blinked. It was too simple to excuse the older woman’s prejudices as being old-fashioned. She was deliberately obtuse, preferring to live in a bubble of privilege that ignored anything and everyone who didn’t fit into her idea of what was proper.

“I think Marcel is the best choice for the position. No other motive.” Livia’s tone dripped with ice. “Why are you here, Delilah?”

“I’m in New Orleans to speak with the photographer who will be joining us at the Willows next week.”

Livia winced at the mention of her upcoming visit to the remote estate. The Benoit family set aside the first two weeks of July for their reunion. A horrifying joke that was instituted in her grandfather’s will. Each member of the family who wanted their yearly payout from the trust fund had to stay at the Willows. She assumed it was his way of controlling them from beyond the grave.

As far as Livia was concerned, it was sheer punishment. But she’d be damned if she let her share of the money go to one of her relatives. She’d walk through the pits of hell first.