Dirty Little Secrets

Ch. 20: The Bridge

Miranda pouts, disappointed. "Oh..."

"Oh, indeed," Javier hums, scratching his stubble. "I assume you'll attend?"

"N—"

"What is the Black and White Ball?" Emery asks, brows pinched together in confusion.

"It's the Marquis Annual Fundraiser for the Children's Hospital," Miranda replies. "It's held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art." She sighs, eyes dreamy. "I hear the gift baskets are epic."

"Marquis?" Emery asks slowly, briefly meeting my stone-cold eyes. Bastard. He hasn't invited me personally since the day I took back what was rightfully mine. "As in Quinton Marquis?"

"Mhmm," Miranda hums. "The Marquis Foundation." She frowns. "Have you met Quinton before?"

Emery blinks. "We're... acquainted."

"Miranda, please draft an RSVP for Mr. Cavanaugh and Miss Jones," Javier says, speaking directly to me as he hisses, "Our CEO wouldn't dare miss such a high-profile event, would he?"

He's right. I hate that he's right. Media will be swarming the steps of The Met. It's the perfect opportunity to show the world that I'm back, and that this company is alive and well and flourishing. I've never been one to do something half-assed. If Quinton wants me there, I'll be there. With all the fucking bells and whistles.

"Send the RSVP today," I tell Miranda. "You're all dismissed." As Miranda and Yannis scatter out of the boardroom, Javier rounds the table, putting a hand on my shoulder. "What?"

"We cannot make an enemy out of the Marquis' again," Javier whispers, tone strained. "Your father cleaned up your messes for years, but he's not here to save your ass again." He briefly glances at Emery who's rereading our policy manual. "Don't let your cock be the reason this company fails, Damon. Remember what happened the last time you picked desire over duty."

"Leave."

"Only a fool allows history to repeat itself," Javier mutters, offering Emery a flat smile before exiting the office. "Enjoy your first day, Miss Jones."

"You look tense," Emery notes, picking up her tablet and notebook. "Is it the ball? If it'll make it easier for you, I can ask Miranda to take my place. She seemed rather eager to go."

It would make it easier. If she didn't go, I wouldn't have to worry about Quinton cornering Emery the first chance he got. But if I don't bring her, it'll make me look insecure. I'd rather walk in with her on my arm, and show him that I'm not a weak and fearful man. Easy is not an option.

"If I have to attend a Marquis event, so do you," I say, gesturing out of the boardroom. "Let me show you your office."

"I think you give him too much power over you," Emery muses brazenly. "Even his name causes you to tense up. I get that you have a... complicated past, but if you react every time he eggs you on, you're giving him exactly what he wants." I stiffen, pushing down the unease building in my chest. Emery offers me a soft smile, brushing her hand against mine as we enter her office. Accident or not, I find my shoulders relaxing. "It's just an observation. Take it with a grain of salt."

"I find..." I swallow, my tie feeling like a snake around my throat as I cross my arms. "I find it rather difficult to keep my emotions in check around him." Bridge. Build a fucking bridge. "Especially when I'm with you."

"I know," Emery says, setting her onboarding documents on her desk. She props up against the edge, crossing her legs, my roaming gaze following the mid-length split of her iridescent navy pencil skirt. "You think he's going to steal me from you, right? Like some sort of payback?"