Page 17 of Flirting with Trouble

I startle and turn my phone over. Shit. All eyes are on me. “Yes? Sorry, I was handling an issue.” I wave my phone as if to validate my excuse.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Padma says. “I was just wondering if you have any questions.”

“No. Thank you. That was an excellent presentation. Unless anyone else has questions for you, I believe we’re done for the day.”

There’s a flurry of activity as everyone gathers their things, and I silently chide myself for getting lost in Wells again.

As I push to my feet, Padma picks up her laptop and comes around the table. At forty-nine, she’s as striking as she is sharp, with light brown skin, straight raven hair cut just above her shoulders, and keen eyes that never miss a thing. She stands with her back to the others and lowers her voice. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted today.”

“I’m fine. Thanks. Just sidetracked by a few things I need to take care of.” Like erasing my memory.

“Anything I can help with?”

“I wish,” I say lightly, although I don’t wish she could help me with Wells. For some strange reason, the idea of him with another woman bothers me, which is ludicrous. The man has probably slept with half the women on Silver Island.

“Okay. I’ll send you my report and my notes on the other presentations in case you missed anything.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.” We walk out together, and Mark Savnor, the creative director, falls into step with us.

“Vic, sorry to do this on short notice, but I’m about to send you mock-ups for the strategy meeting tomorrow. Do you have time to review them?”

“Sure, I can do it tonight and get it back to you first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” He heads down one hall, and Padma and I head in the other direction toward our offices.

As we walk past Yvette’s desk, our bright-eyed assistant looks up from her computer and smiles, her blond hair covering her shoulders in gentle waves. “Padma, Corbin called. He can’t make dinner tonight. He said he’ll call you later.”

“He needn’t bother,” Padma says. “Cancel once, it’s bad timing. Twice, and it’s iffy. But three times in one month? He’s done.”

“Good for you. You’ve got to know your worth,” Yvette encourages. “Victory, the two messages on your desk need to be returned right away, and the car will pick you up at seven tonight for Cage’s birthday party.”

“Shoot. I forgot about the party.” Cage Rekyrts is an MMA fighter. He and his brother, Boone, a musician, along with a few of Boone’s friends, were special clients of Harvey’s. I took over managing them after Harvey died.

“Do you want me to tell them you can’t make it?” Yvette asks. “I canceled your dinner reservation at the tavern, but I’m sure they’ll still find a way to fit you in.”

“They better. She’s their best customer,” Padma says.

“No, it’s okay.” I would never let Harvey down by blowing off any of his favorite clients. “I need to make an appearance at the party. Pad, since Corbin canceled, would you mind taking a look at the mocks for Mark?”

“Not at all. It’ll probably be more exciting than Corbin would’ve been anyway.”

“Great. I’ll forward them to you.”

As Padma heads into her office, Yvette says, “Do you have an outfit for tonight? Or do you need me to have one sent over?”

“I’ve got something I can wear, but I could use a blowout, if you wouldn’t mind making an appointment.” I usually tame my thick mane myself for work, but the party is at a rooftop bar, and the humidity will wreak havoc with it.

“Consider it done.”

I head into my office and return those important calls. When I’m done with the calls, I move on to returning emails and reviewing reports. I’m elbow-deep in a document when Yvette rings through on the intercom.

“Excuse me, Victory?” she calls.

“Yes?”

“There’s a Wells Silver here to see you.”

I freeze, and my chest goes hot. What is he doing here? Shitshitshit.