Page 20 of Break My Rules

“We’re just up in the conference room,” she says, leading me upstairs. “It’s all really low-key here,” she adds, probably catching the terror in my eyes. “You don’t have to give a flashy presentation or anything. Just chat to us, tell us what you’re thinking, and how we can activate the plan.”

I nod, relaxing a little. Priya introduces me to the rest of the fundraising team, another four people who all seem friendly enough. Then, they look at me expectantly. I take a deep breath and begin. “So, I’ve been putting together an action plan, focused on your next campaign, for the clean water initiative…”

I keep talking, getting a little more confident as I see the interested expressions on their faces. Hugh told me, the foundation has been pretty old-school in its approach to fundraising, relying on fancy galas and high-society charity auctions to bring in the big bucks—even though those kind of events often cost a huge portion of the proceeds to host. Now, he’s looking to take a new approach. I suggested that we look to more modern, youthful avenues for raising awareness and money, using social media influencers, and partnering with them on campaigns to reach their audience.

“I’ve drawn up lists of the influencers we should be targeting,” I explain, handing out the materials I prepared. “The top ten names I listed alone have a combined reach of over twenty million followers.”

“Twenty million?” Priya echoes, looking amazed. “That’s more eyeballs than we’d get for a full national ad campaign.”

“And for a fraction of the price,” I agree. “I’ve already reached out to them to ask about sponsorship rates, and honestly, I think we can get most of them to partner for free. It looks great for them,” I add. “Social awareness, a charitable mission. Everyone wins.”

“Sounds great to me.”

I look over, and see that Hugh is in the doorway, smiling. “Seems like you’ve hit the ground running,” he says, and the others make noises of agreement.

“You should run with this,” Priya nods. “And keep me posted. Let me know what you need to make it happen.”

The meeting wraps up, and I feel a glow of pride—and relief, that I haven’t made an ass of myself on my first day in the office. “I knew you’d be an asset to the team,” Hugh comments, walking out with me. “What changed your mind about taking the position?”

“Oh, well, it’s such a great cause,” I reply vaguely. I’m not about to tell him that he’s a prime suspect in my investigation now, so I just flash a smile. “You talked me into it.”

“I can be persuasive like that,” Hugh smiles. He’s got rumpled dark blonde hair, and a slightly nerdy vibe, with gold-rimmed glasses, and a button-down shirt. I’ve always thought he was the nicest of Saint’s rich friends, understated and sincere, but now I’m looking at him with new eyes, searching for some sign of a duplicitous double life.

“So how have you been?” I ask, friendly, as we arrive back at my desk. I linger, giving Hugh an expectant smile. The whole reason I’m here is to strike up a friendship with him and to learn as much as possible. “I haven’t seen you since… It was the Blackthorn party, right?”

“Right,” Hugh nods. “That was a fun night.”

“It was,” I agree. “Although… I guess I was expecting more, you know, from the great Blackthorn Society.”

He gives a chuckle. “Turns out, secret societies can be rather run-of-the-mill,” he agrees, dropping his voice confidentially. “We just let everyone believe we’re up to wild adventures so they think we’re much cooler than we really are.”

I smile. “That was a regular meeting, wasn’t it?” I ask, keeping my voice casual. “Do you attend a lot of those things?”

“I should,” Hugh makes a face. “My father is always telling me they’re important, for legacy and tradition, but to tell you the truth, I find them kind of stuffy. Still, they’re great for business,” he adds, nodding around us. “Most of our big-money donors are members of the society, so really, those events are just a networking tool. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I’m stuck making small talk about the cricket scores with Humphrey Hewton-Littlegate, class of ‘64,” he adds with a grin.

I laugh along with him.

“That’s why it’s great that you’re here,” Hugh says, giving me a friendly smile. “You’re going to shake things up for the Foundation. I can tell. Plus, I shouldn’t say it, but I’ve never seen Saint happier,” he adds. “I mean, for him to show up at one of those meetings is a rarity, but to do it with a smile on his face? Unheard of. Whatever’s going on with you two, I hope it works out.”

“Thanks. Me too,” I agree. I realize my phone is buzzing on the desk and check the number. “Speak of the devil. Or should I say, the Saint…”

Hugh grins. “Tell him he owes me a squash game,” he says, and leaves me to answer in peace.

I pick up.

“How did it go?” Saint asks, right away. “I bet you knocked their socks off.”

I smile. “The team here is too cool for socks,” I report back, glancing around. “But it went OK… Better than OK.”

“That’s my girl.”

Saint’s casual praise sends warmth right through me. “What about you? How are things at Ashford?” I ask.

He sighs. “The usual. Reports, financials, endless passive-aggressive disappointment.”

“Well, as long as you’re having fun,” I joke, and he laughs.

“I heard from Seb. They can meet for dinner tonight.”

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