Page 62 of Ruthless Edge

"It's a great space," Emma says. "We're really happy with it."

"You'll have to tell me how we can make it perfect for you."

"Emma's the one to ask," I say. "She knows exactly what she wants. It's one of the things I like best about her."

Diane looks between us with the intelligence of an older woman who knows exactly what I’m saying beneath what I’m not saying, and she asks Emma a few questions about the gala and listens to the answers with full attention, which is more than Richard managed all afternoon.

"I hope Richard answered everything you needed," Diane says.

"He was thorough," Emma says.

I smile at Diane. "He was. I did wonder though, will Richard be managing our event specifically, or will there be someone else on the night?"

"Richard handles all our large bookings," Diane says.

"Great." I keep the smile easy. "Just worth asking. A ballroom full of college hockey players probably isn't the smoothest night he'll have. He'll want to be in top form." A beat. "Especially since the women running our program are exceptional, and they're going to have high standards. The kind of man who continually talks down to them probably won't enjoy the evening."

The lobby goes briefly quiet.

Diane's expression moves through something. Her eyes go to Richard, who is standing near the desk and has gone very still, and then back to me.

"I appreciate you mentioning that," she says. Her voice has changed slightly. Not cold, but settled. The way a person's voice settles when they've heard something they're going to do something about.

"Just thought it was worth saying, for everyone’s benefit.”

"Of course." She shakes both our hands again. "I'll make sure everything is handled appropriately for your event. Emma, it was a pleasure."

We say our goodbyes and walk out through the front entrance, and the cold air hits us, and Emma waits until the door closes behind us.

"You didn't have to do that," she says.

"It was no big deal."

She looks at me.

"If he’s going to be that much of a dick, and I don’t get to punch him in the nose, I get to make a little joke that just might ruin his day.”

She doesn't say anything for a second. Then, with a little smile, says, "he was pretty bad."

"The worst," I agree.

"He was always putting his back to me⁠—"

"I know."

She exhales, something between a laugh and a sigh. "Thank you."

"You would have handled it."

"I was handling it."

"You were handling it better than he deserved," I say. "I just helped him understand that."

Emma looks at the parking lot, then back at me, and something in her face is less guarded than usual, some small part of the wall down.

Then I ruin it by steering her toward the hotel restaurant.

"Knox—"