Page 22 of Embrace Me Forever

“So, businesswoman!” she chirps, plopping down beside me. “Caught eyeing an important email, huh? Preparing to roll out the next big update for your program?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

Anne notices my lack of enthusiasm—and something else. “What were you investigating?” She eyes the specialized search window poking behind my email. “Running a background check on Simon Blake? I guess that’s more intense than swiping right.”

I roll my eyes, trying to keep my cool. “Anne, he was just a fancy driver employed by a multi-billion-dollar company in California.”

“Uh-huh,” she drawls. “That wasn’t my impression when you first told me about him. A wise older man, smooth driving, country music.”

I might have gotten a bit carried away, but my mind was scattered after returning from that trip.

“He was unlike anyone I’ve ever met, that’s all,” I respond defensively. “Sebastian was the only man I’d been with, and Blake is…” I pause, searching for the right word, then it slips out. “He’s from another world.”

She laughs, shaking her head.

I flatten my lips, insisting, “There’s nothing to share, really. Look!” I show her the search window. “There’s absolutely nothing about him. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.”

“Takes one to know one,” she retorts.

“I doubt he’s hiding from insurance salesmen,” I joke. “Anyway, he was just a fleeting muse.”

“That fleeting muse is about to become a two-day affair,” she counters with a smirk, asking to see the Hartley Marine email again. “You’re attending the dinner, right?”

“Definitely! And on that note, let’s pivot back to reality and strategize this dinner meeting, so I don’t lose my sanity.”

“All right. First off, how much do you plan to charge Hartley Marine this time?”

My mind races with the possibilities and pitfalls, still kicking myself for asking for too little the first time. “I’m still figuring that out. I don’t want to ask for so much that it turns them off. I’m sure they’re used to people trying to fleece them.”

Anne rolls her eyes. “Gi, you’ve worked your butt off.”

“I know, but I don’t want Rob and Clayton to feel like I’m exploiting them.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Weren’t you supposed to be the logical one, not letting emotions cloud your judgment?”

“Come on, I’m not a robot,” I counter.

Anne shakes her head. “Look, they’ll easily make millions out of your invention. And let’s not forget, you’re doing this for Coco. Her future, her medical bills. You need to think about her.”

Her words hit home, and I bow my head. “You’re right.”

“Chin up, sister.”

I gear up to dive back into work on my laptop.

She halts me. “Hold your horses! We need to figure out your knockout attire first.”

“Maybe the navy blazer and black trousers? Definitely ditching those rental straitjackets.”

Anne scrunches her face. “Sure, it’s professional, but honey, this is dinner, not a board meeting.”

I roll my eyes at the word ‘board.’ She knows, but at this stage, I don’t think she cares. I let it pass, too, saying, “They say it’s casual.”

“Casual for billionaires, Gi, which means anything but. You need to sparkle. What about a red dress? Fits like a glove at the waist and hips, with a hint of scandal at the neckline.”

“Anne, Rob and Clayton are married. I’m not auditioning forThe Real Housewives of Newport Beach.”

“It’s not about them,” she insists with a mischievous twinkle. “It’s about you owning the room. And don’t forget about Blake. You said he wasn’t sporting a wedding band.”

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