“No,” Aud said softly, “I’m not, because I
know you’re not. But has it occurred to you that marriage is something that
most women—hell, maybe most people, I don’t know, I can’t speak for guys—think
about, maybe even dream about, their whole lives? It’s not a business decision,
Derian.”
“It often is, and you know it,” Derian said.
“Besides, Emily is all about her profession. She’s not looking for a romantic
relationship. We talked about it.”
Aud’s eyes widened. “The two of you talked
about getting married?”
“Not exactly,” Derian said, exasperated. “We
talked about the future, you know, what we wanted and didn’t want. We both
pretty much said marriage wasn’t for us.”
“Pretty much…” Aud laughed wryly. “Oh, Dere.
You mean marriage isn’t for you. I bet Emily is all about her job right now. I
get that. Me too. But that doesn’t mean that somewhere down the road she didn’t
see that for herself.”
“Well, there won’t be any down the road at
Winfield’s if she’s back in Singapore.”
Aud gave her a long look. “That’s what this
is about, isn’t it. You don’t want her to leave.”
“That hardly makes any difference, since I’m
leaving myself.”
Aud stiffened. “Are you? When?”
“Soon.” As soon as she could.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know how long, a couple weeks
probably. Henrietta is doing really well, and as long as she keeps to her
regimen, she’ll be back before too long.”
“And does Emily know this?”
“I mentioned it, yes.”
“So you announced you were leaving in the
same breath as you suggested the two of you get married?” Aud said dryly.
Derian flushed. “Not quite like that, no. I
don’t know. We didn’t actually get to the planning part. What are you getting
at?”
“That maybe you don’t know the woman you’re
sleeping with as well as you think.”
Derian rubbed her face. “Well, she certainly
knows me.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Aud leaned over to kiss
Derian on the cheek. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know you.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Derian landed in Rio in the late afternoon. She
hadn’t slept the night before or on the plane, and the buzz of being beyond
tired ran through her. She wasn’t looking forward to navigating another
unfamiliar place—but then it looked like she wouldn’t have to. An Asian woman
bearing a sign with her name on it waited near baggage claim. She didn’t look
like anyone from the hotel or travel agency, unless their reps were wearing
Prada and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds these days.
Derian held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Derian
Winfield.”
The woman, somewhere in the range of thirty,
extended a manicured hand. “I’m Mingzhu Tan, from Beijing Aerotech. Please call
me Ming.”