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Chapter Three

I GOT SERVED

One of Emmanuel’s greatest joys was being a father. He would never admit to having a favourite, but his baby girl held a special place in his heart. She was currently moving down in the ranking. He was definitely awake but remained stalk still. Emmanuel was afraid to open his eyes, fearing she could sense it on the other side of the door. He was so confident that it was Sage knocking at the door that he would wager his entire fleet of vehicles on it.

“You know better. She knows we are in here. She isn’t going to give up.” Ivy whispered on his chest. See? His wife thought it was Sage, too.

“What time is it? And why is she here? I thought she’d meet us at the restaurant?” he whispered back.

The knocking came again, this time it was louder. “Parents! It’s nine. Why aren’t you guys up?”

Reluctantly, he cracked one eye open. Looking down, he caught Ivy’s smirk. She shrugged. “That’s your Baby Girl.”

“She’s your Baby Girl too.” He sighed in frustration. Manny was not ready to get up. The couple had a late night. After being apart for forty-eight hours, they had a lot of making up to do. That reconciliation had gone on into the wee hours. He couldn’t get enough of Ivy. She was an addiction that he happily succumbed to. Even if that meant a night with little to no sleep.

“Hey Sage, I thought you were going to meet us at Fusion,” Manny called out. His little girl was tenacious. It was unlikely she would just give up and go away.

“Hey, Daddy! I was, but I changed my mind. I wanna see Momma’s award.” The pout was present in her voice. His little one hadn’t been happy that she wasn’t allowed to attend the Gala.

“You are going to have to give us some time to get up and ready. It was a late night. We’ll meet you in the kitchen in… an hour.”

“An hour!?” Sage didn’t do it often, but she was a champion whiner.

“Sage.” His voice held all the fatherly censure he could muster.

“Okay, fine. I’m going to have some cereal.” Manny nor her mother bothered to remind her they were going to brunch. Sage ate more than her brothers. She was full of energy and had a crazy metabolism.

“I guess that means no lounging in bed,” Ivy said, trying to remove herself from his hold.

“Ehh.” His hand cupped her breast as his thumb played with her nipple.

“If we aren’t down there in an hour, she will be back up here.”

Ivy was right, his plans for the morning were dashed. It was time to get up and at ‘em. With a smouldering kiss pressed to her lips, the couple rolled out of each other’s embrace. She proceeded to the washroom promptly, as was her regular practice. Before he did anything, Manny had to straighten up. When they returned home from the Gala, their clothes were left scattered around the room without further consideration. First, he collected Ivy’s dress. He smiled at the memory of her in it. Damn, but she looked beautiful.

“Hey Doc, do you want this dry cleaned and donated? Or will you be keeping this dress?”

“Keeping it! It is an Etheline Farrow’s original. She is really taking off.”

Okay, that designer’s name meant little to him. But if Ivy wanted something, she got it. It was that simple. The dress was placed in a dry-cleaning bin. Her lingerie was put in the delicate wash bin. He was methodical, with a system in place for everything. The same was done with his clothing until he got to the jacket of his tux. The sound of crinkling as he checked his inner pockets made him vividly recall the events of the previous night.

Maksim had just completed his speech, bestowing the award to Ivy. The Russian had shaken her hand, cupping it in his massive mitts. The handshake had lingered longer than socially acceptable, in his opinion, when a soft voice drew his attention.

“Emmanuel Campbell Scott?” A server inquired.

“Yes?” Manny answered, distracted.

“You’ve been served, sir,” she said, handing him an envelope and disappearing through the crowd. He would have gone after the woman, but Ivy had begun her speech. The envelope was tucked away and forgotten as he turned his concentration on Doc.

Well, it was a good thing Frank was coming to brunch. He could handle whatever the hell this was. As Manny thought about it, he became pissed that they had served him at the Gala.

“Hey, what’s got you frowning?” Her voice startled him. He did not hear her approaching.

“Oh, I got served last night.” Emmanuel waved the envelope at her.

“At the Gala?” Ivy sounded as incredulous as he felt.

“Yeah. The bastard has had us tied up in litigation for the last year. I thought Frank had worked out a tentative deal. Now this bullshit.” He tapped the envelope before tossing it on his dresser. The company was being sued because it had launched a new product using proprietary self-heating packaging. The family business had acquired the pattern from a gentleman in a multi-million deal. It turned out he wasn’t the original designer. That entrepreneur had sold it for a song. Now his regret was resulting in a long-drawn-out legal mess. Just when he thought the nightmare was over, the other legal counsel had made it personal.

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