Page 73 of Inarticulate

“Impressive.”

“I think I can handle it from here on my own.” Tanner’s voice was deep and smooth. Almost edible.

“I know. I know.” Patrick held up his hands. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Savannah smothered a laugh and remained quiet until they were alone. “That sounded awfully close to matchmaking.”

Tanner chuckled. “Get to know him a little better and you’ll realize there’s no doubt.”

“Really?” This time she couldn’t hold in a snort. “I thought I’d be considered the competition. Maybe even the enemy.”

“There is no competition between Grandiosity and Rydel. We’re in two different leagues.” His warm eyes didn’t even flicker with the insult. “But Patrick has been very vocal about how impressed he is by you. Apparently, you acted like GI Jane and stomped into his office, demanding his attention and cooperation.”

A sneer threatened to curl her lip. “I guess it would’ve been shocking—a mere woman from an insignificant company dictating terms to a business god,” she drawled. “Crazy, right?”

“It shocked the hell out of him.” He didn’t even notice her sarcasm.Pretentious asshole.

She gave him a tight grin and sipped her champagne. Her focus strayed from Tanner’s nauseating million-dollar smile to the bar, where a formidable man leaned against the wood, staring at her.

Keenan was always staring at her.

She lowered her glass, her gaze, and her self-esteem. She didn’t have the energy to fight narcissism, or whatever it was that made these men think they could treat her on a sub-human level.

“Have you ever thought about working for us?” Tanner continued, oblivious to her desire to shove the remaining contents of her glass in his face.

“For Grandiosity?” she mocked. “Wow. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Her clutch vibrated and the faint trill of her ringtone sounded over the chatter. “I’m sorry. Could you please excuse me for a moment?”

He inclined his head. “We’ll talk later.”

Oh, goodie.

She opened her clutch and pulled out her cell.Private Numberflashed on screen and she answered, expecting to hear Amanda’s voice on the other line.

“Savannah speaking.”

“Savannah…” Yep, Amanda had called in all her anxiety-riddled glory.

“What’s up?”

“There’s been—”

The words were smothered by laughter and the obnoxious thump of conversation surrounding her. “Hold on a minute. I can’t hear you.” She turned in a circle, ignoring the continued stare from Keenan, and spied a bathroom sign in the far corner. “I’m finding somewhere quieter.” She scooted on her toes through the throng of people and side-stepped a partition to enter a secluded hall to the male, female, and disabled toilets. “That’s better. I should be able to hear you now.”

“Savannah… I…”

Shit.There was too much panic in the event manager’s tone. Too much fear. The waitresses mustn’t have shown up. Or worse, they threatened not to work tomorrow.

“The ambulance had to come,” Amanda continued. “They think Thomas had a heart attack.”

Savannah stopped breathing. “What?” She crumpled against the wall and placed her glass on the tile floor. “I don’t understand. I was with him an hour ago.”

A sob filtered through the line, hitting her ears with painful clarity. “Amanda?”

“I can’t do this. I think I’m going to be sick.” The event manager babbled, mumbling words that ran in and out of coherence. “He could’ve died and all I can think about is the stupid wedding. How are we going to feed the guests without a head chef? How are we going to pull this off when everything isfucked up?”

Savannah’s lungs restricted with the possibility of catastrophe. She was caught in the same maelstrom as Amanda—suppressing nausea over thoughts of tomorrow when she should’ve been focusing on Thomas’ health.

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