“Good morning. How may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Martin.”
Her expression never changed. “I’m afraid Mr.
Winfield has no meetings scheduled this morning. You must have mistaken the
date of your appointment. If you give me your name, I’ll check to see the
correct date.”
“I don’t have an appointment, but he’ll see
me.” Derian held out her hand. “I’m Derian Winfield.”
Color rushed to the blonde’s face and she
rose hastily, leaning across the wide desk to extend her hand. Derian was
right, she had a killer body underneath her expensive, professionally stylish
suit. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m Victoria, let me get Mr. Winfield’s admin. I
didn’t…I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
“No,” Derian said, returning the handshake,
“we haven’t.” There was a time she might have added she would’ve remembered
meeting such a beautiful woman, because she certainly would have. Flirting with
women was second nature, but as attractive as the woman was, Derian hadn’t any
interest in playing. She released her hand. “The admin?”
“Oh! Of course.” Victoria reached for a
phone, punched in an extension, and a second later said, “Anthony, Derian
Winfield is here to see Martin.” Her flush deepened and she partially turned
away. “What? No, why would I…” She glanced at Derian, her expression mortified.
“I’m terribly sorry. Do you have identification?”
Derian laughed. “It’s okay.” She reached
inside her coat pocket, brought out her passport, and showed Victoria her
photo.
“Yes, of course,” she said into the phone. A
second later she hung up, looking relieved and chagrined. “He will be out
shortly.”
“That’s fine, thank you.”
Derian walked to the bank of windows and
thought about how much she detested these little displays of dominance.
Everyone jockeying for their small bit of power. Her name had been all she
needed growing up to give her that power, and as soon as she’d recognized that
everyone she knew was subtly trying to maneuver for even more, she hadn’t
wanted any of it. Henrietta had been the only one who didn’t care about
appearances or the standing on the social register or the best seat in the
banquet hall. Even though Derian had done everything possible to escape the
Winfield net, no matter how far she traveled, how vigorously she worked to
dissociate herself from her family mystique, she hadn’t been able to shake the
celebrity that had nothing to do with her. As she learned very early in life,
people were attracted to her for her money and her family name, and the
presumed influence and prestige that came with both, making every relationship
suspect. And sadly, she was rarely wrong. Keeping people at a distance became a
self-protective habit, until Emily. She smiled to herself. Emily was completely
unimpressed by her status, despite admitting her penchant for following
celebrity news with some dedication. What for Emily provided entertainment, for
others provided a foundation for a relationship—exactly what Derian rigorously
avoided.