Page 5 of Perfect Assumption
After hearing from security the cake is on its way up, I inform a gleeful Carys, who ducks inside so I can mop up my coffee disaster.
I briefly mourn the loss of my morning coffee but put it out of my mind and get back to work.
There’s too much to be done, too many secrets to keep.
Including my own.
* * *
Hours later,knee-deep in addressing the emails filled with dramatic complaints filed by the celebrities Carys and Ward represent, I can’t help but grumble aloud over the one I just responded to. “The gum wasn’t watermelon.” As if that was going to be noticeable when the band of men known as “The Rind” left their trademark wads of it in the greenroom at the satellite interview they were giving this morning.
Maybe I’ll never understand what drives the rich, I think before adjusting my ponytail and diving back in. Every day, I act as an intermediary between celebrities with more cash than sense and people who exploit them to amass piles of it themselves.
“Where did people’s humanity disappear to?” Then I realize it likely got stuck somewhere between what happened to me and a band whose signature move is to leave their DNA everywhere they go: bathrooms, bars, and now—apparently— the studio of a nationally broadcast satellite show.
“They’re just fabulous,” I mutter.
“Did you say something, Angela?” His dark voice invades my space for the second time in one day.
Ward Burke has this kind of money. Carys too, I suppose. But the way the two siblings carry their wealth is just different.
Carys has an edge of sharp elegance about her that enhances her personality, adding a level of sophistication to her pixie-like appearance. But Ward, with his contradictory darkness, comes off like he stepped out of the pages ofVogue. He oozes the confidence that comes from wearing three-thousand-dollar suits. It’s the kind that’s impervious to the hard knocks of life the rest of us mere mortals deal with. It’s an awesome arrogance, and all it does is leave me wary.
Maybe because it reminds me of too much.
I open my mouth to say something, to apologize for the accidental mishap earlier, because today of all days, he should be happy, but the thunderclouds chasing across his face change my mind. I’m not even certain he knows I know. “No, I didn’t,” I reply before I turn back to my email.
With a grunt, he eases through the door, and I return to my work, awaiting the moment I’m summoned into the conference room to deliver a cake.
One Ward knows nothing about. Yet.
Two
Ward
Happy Birthday to one of the world’s most eligible bachelors—Ward Burke. To enumerate the many reasons we wish Ward another year of blessings would take up the entire magazine. Put simply, when compared against other men of his ilk, Ward Burke rises head and shoulders above the rest.
He’s drop-dead gorgeous, filthy rich, and smart. His aloofness adds a layer of appeal that makes a person want to claw their way through skin and bone to the man beneath. So far, not a single person has managed it.
— StellaNova
There’s a tension I can’t quite rid between my shoulder blades as the banter swirls around me between the other people in the conference room sitting high above Rockefeller Center. Many floors beneath us, crowds of people are gathering like locusts for their turn around the infamous rink, but insulated high up in the air, two people are making jokes instead of business decisions.
A paper airplane flies past my ear with alarming accuracy. I glare at my older sister before asking pointedly, “Aren’t we supposed to be finalizing our scheduling for the next month?”
“Come on, Ward. Lighten up. It’s only your birthday.” Carys grins.
I only wish I could.The words almost slip past my lips, but I manage to hold them back. It’s not my sister’s fault I feel wound up tighter than a spring inside a clock; it’s mine. After thirteen years, the blame belongs solely to me. Still. Always.
It always will.
“Just because you’re now a year older doesn’t mean you can turn into a grump.” Turning to her husband and our shared senior paralegal, David Lennan, Carys purses her lips. “Did I remember to add a ‘no grumpiness’ clause to his contract when he became a partner?”
“Sorry, love, but I don’t recall that. I can check if you like?” David’s eyes twinkle with merriment at his wife before he winks at me.
“You both suck,” I declare for no other reason other than the fact their family and I can say that without either of them taking offense.
Carys opens her mouth, likely to make some rude comment, but David reaches over and lays his hand over her mouth. “Don’t think about responding, my love. Ward doesn’t need those kinds of details.”
