Just Like Her

Chapter 32

Tom

"Donations are steady, back to where they were before..." Cynthia's voice dipped as she scanned the remaining agenda items she had written down on her legal pad. "Name recognition for the Foundation has measurably increased—"

"Please don't tell me we actually paid for those measurements—" I cut in, but Cynthia tactfully continued on, ignoring me.

"As have positive associations of our brand within the public eye, isn't that lovely?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned farther back into my desk chair. "You know how I feel about polling."

"Which is why I never tell you about it before I arrange it," she retorted with a calculated grin.

"It's a waste of money!"

"It's concrete evidence against the board's worries—"

"Cynthia, for the hundredth time, I don't care about—"

"—and a way to get them to shut the hell up and let us get on with our bloody work."

My sister dropped the smile and instead arched a brow, daring me to contradict her. I didn't.

"We're going to be okay," she said after taking a deep breath. "The Foundation will be fine, many thanks to Emma. If it hadn't been for her filing that police report and making an effort at those events..." She shook her head as if to dismiss the idea and then continued. "Well, little brother, you may not care about optics but our bottom line sure as hell does."

"Duly noted," I grumbled, refusing to concede her the point.

Cynthia glanced down at her notepad before checking off a final agenda item and reaffixing her smile. "Speaking of the lovely, Emma Henderson..."

"We weren't—"

"I was."

"If this meeting's over, I have budgets to configure," I said, making a show of turning back to my computer and pulling up various documents.

The moment I had entered the office that morning, Cynthia had pounced. I'd come in late having slept over at Emma's. Between the intensity of our conversation and later our lovemaking—I had never understood that term before being with Emma—I had completely forgotten to set an alarm, and—being unemployed—Emma had fallen out of the habit.

"You two looked quite the lovely pair last night—"

"You hardly let us look a pair at all," I bit in.

Cynthia, I knew, was the one who had orchestrated my being pulled away to talk with investors. Whether to control the narrative surrounding Emma or to merely maximize the number of patrons we could kiss-up to, I wasn't sure. Either way, I didn't care for it.

"Well I couldn't let you have her all to yourself," she teased. "Could I?"

I began typing with added vigor but stayed silent.

Cynthia sighed heavily. "I was only going to ask..."

I glared up at my sister expectantly, only to see that I had lost her. She stared absently out the window for several moments before turning back to face me, all trace of her well-trained smile gone.

"Yes?"

Cynthia furrowed her brow with apparent renewed focus. "I was only going to ask if Emma had mentioned a stylist to you. I suggested she hire her friend, told her you would pay for it."