Derian’s brows drew down. “Kind? It’s not
about being kind—”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it is. That,
perhaps, and some misplaced guilt about not being here sooner.”
“Guilt.” A muscle in Derian’s jaw tightened.
“Because I ran out on my family, you mean. Because I didn’t fulfill the
Winfield legacy.”
“Before we say things we might regret,” Emily
said very carefully, fighting desperately for solid ground while a tornado of
hurt and self-recrimination whirled inside her, “I think we need to reassess
exactly what we’re doing.”
“Reassess,” Derian said, her eyes narrowing.
“That sounds like a business proposition.”
“Yes, well, we’re talking about business,
aren’t we?”
“Not exactl—”
“And I think it would be best if we keep our
relationship on professional terms from now on.” There, she’d done it, what she
should have done from the beginning—erected some boundaries in her relationship
with Derian, for her own self-preservation.
“And if I don’t agree?” Derian’s eyes were
molten.
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Derian said on her
way out the door. “I’m no longer part of the Winfield Agency as of right now,
so our professional relationship, if that’s what you’d like to call what we’ve
been doing, is officially over.”
Emily slumped against the counter, staring at
the closed door and trying to convince herself she’d just made the only
decision she could. She believed that, she really did, but doing the smart
thing didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. How far would she have to go to silence the
craving for the sound of Derian’s voice and the touch of her hands? She had no
clue, but she at least knew where to go first.
Chapter Twenty-six
Derian only knew one way to handle confusion and
anger and disappointment—she moved on to the next stop on the revolving stage
of her life. Head down, cutting her way through the early evening sidewalk
strollers with the ease of years of handling casino and racetrack crowds, she
pulled up the number on her phone of her favorite travel agent, one of several
kept on retainer by the corporation to handle all the upper-level management
travel needs, including hers.
“Monica? Derian Winfield.”
“Yes, Ms. Winfield. How can I be of
assistance?”
“I need to be in Rio by this time tomorrow.”
“Just a moment.” Monica sounded as if the
peremptory request was just another ordinary item in a day’s work, which Derian
guessed it was. She imagined Monica must go everywhere with a mobile, because
no matter what time of day or night she called her, Monica always took care of
her.