“I don’t think of her as my best friend,” Emily said. “Actually, I think of you as my best friend and I’ve never wanted to have sex—”

“Okay, let’s not go there,” Ron said, grinning.

“If she’s here, Ron,” Emily said, decidedly not going to discuss sex with Derian with anyone, “it might not mean anything at all. She’s never been interested in the business. It’s possible she just came on an errand for Henrietta.”

“You think you can find out?”

“I’m not going to use my relationship with her to get insider information. If she’s here for anything other than a brief visit, I’m sure we’ll all find out at the same time.”

“You know, sometimes you’re absolutely no fun.”

“You might be right.” Emily grinned. “But sometimes, I am.”

“Well I know one thing,” Ron said, rising and starting for the door. “Things would be a hell of a lot better around here if she stayed.”

He slipped out the door and Emily leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Derian couldn’t be planning to get involved at the agency, could she? As much as she wanted to see Donatella dethroned, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to see Derian in Henrietta’s place. If she and Derian had to work together, she wasn’t sure their personal relationship could go any further. For the first time in her life, her professional goals ran smack up against her personal ones. She’d never had to choose between her goals and her desires, and she wasn’t sure what she would do if she had to.


*


“Hi, Vonnie darlin’.” Derian swung around Vonnie’s desk and kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful as always.”

Vonnie jumped up and gave Derian a quick hug. In a low voice, she said, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How have you been? Still my favorite bad girl?”

“So I’m told.”

“No, really,” Vonnie said gently. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

“I’ve been doing okay,” Derian said, stretching the truth a bit. With each passing day she wondered if she’d been doing anything more than killing time—or maybe wasting it, along with her life. “A lot better now that Henrietta is on the mend.”

“Don’t I know it?” Vonnie glanced behind her at the closed office doors. “Her getting back here can’t be too soon for me.”

“Donatella hasn’t left yet?”

“Not unless she flew out the window on her broom, which wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

Derian laughed. “Is everything pretty much under control?”

“We’ve had some concerned calls from clients and publisher reps, worried that Henrietta’s absence will disrupt some of our commitments. Everyone knows Henrietta is the power here.”

“Just tell anyone who asks it’s business as usual and there won’t be any changes.”

“I wish that were the case, but—”

“Don’t worry. Just leave it to me.”

“You know what you’re up against in there?” Vonnie’s brows drew down in worry.

“Hey, I was born for this, remember?” Derian strode to Henrietta’s door, knocked perfunctorily, and let herself in. Donatella hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d seen her, although she appeared thinner, if that was even possible. Her skin was stretched tight over sharp facial bones, her dark hair sculpted to her skull. She wore gold at her throat and her wrists, her black suit severely tailored to her anorectic frame. Her wide mouth tightened, her voice a hiss. “Derian.”

“Hi, Donatella,” Derian said easily, shedding her suit jacket and draping it over a clothes tree. She rolled up her sleeves, scanning the room. Henrietta’s touch was everywhere—floor-to-ceiling glass-fronted bookcases filled with countless books by authors the agency had represented over the past hundred years, the comfortable seating area where Derian could imagine HW or Emily relaxing with a manuscript, the huge desk from which HW steered the agency. “Did Martin call?”

“He did.”

Derian turned and slid her hands into her pockets. “I’ll grab a cup of coffee while you gather up your things.”

“As I’m sure Martin informed you, we have an audit ongoing which will take some time to complete.” If possible, her lips grew even thinner. “Long overdue.”

“The business offices are on the third floor. I’ll make sure someone gives you a space to work. But I’ll be working here.”

“Really, Derian,” Donatella said condescendingly, “how far do you plan to take this charade? You don’t know anything about the business, and even if you did—”

“I’ve already been this route with Martin, and I don’t really have time or the inclination to repeat myself. I plan to run the agency in Henrietta’s absence. If you have an issue with that, you can take it to my father.” She grinned, the kind of grin that said, Go ahead, make my day. “He can take it to the board. I’ll be happy to fight it out there.”

Martin would not want a public schism. He was chairman of the board, but at least half the members were elected by the shareholders, and he would not tolerate any show of weakness to those who might conceivably challenge him in the future. His image was all important, and he would want to appear unassailable. Derian wondered if Martin had any idea his attempts at training her to win in the business world would one day be used against him. She smiled at the thought.

“Your aunt,” Donatella said with a touch of distaste, “has run this business like a charity for far too long. The staff is bloated, half of the clients are marginal producers if that, and the agency’s catalog is hopelessly outdated. Nothing short of a complete overhaul will bring this business into the twenty-first century. Do you really think you’re capable of that?”

Derian held on to her temper. She didn’t mind being insulted, but she wouldn’t stand for Henrietta being criticized when she wasn’t there to defend herself. “You’d be surprised,” she said softly, “at exactly what I’m capable of doing. If you’d like to find out, you can try standing in my way.”

Donatella lost the staring contest and rose with a huffing sound. She gathered papers and pushed them into a large black shoulder bag. “This is a ridiculous, childish maneuver that will only compound the problems at this institution. I expect you’ll discover you’re in well over your head very shortly. Call me when that happens.” Her thin smile blossomed crimson, as if infused with fresh blood. “At that point I think the board will be delighted with anything we suggest, so you’ll be doing us a favor when you fail.”

Derian stepped aside as Donatella stormed out. An unexpected wave of satisfaction rolled through her despite Donatella’s prediction. She hadn’t expected winning a round in business to be as satisfying as pulling down a large take at the tables, but it was. Maybe she’d been missing out on something all this time.

Donatella was right about one thing, though. She didn’t know exactly how to win at this game, and she needed to find out. Henrietta’s legacy and a lot of people’s futures, including Emily’s, depended on her being able to pull this off. She opened the door. “Vonnie?”

Vonnie swiveled in her chair, a pleased expression on her face. “Yes, boss?”

“Derian will do.” Derian chuckled. “Where’s Emily’s office?”

Vonnie’s smile widened and she pointed. “Around the corner and down the hall to your right. First door.”

“Thanks,” Derian said, heading off in the direction Vonnie so kindly indicated for her with a buzz of expectation.

Chapter Twenty

Ron was at the door again. Emily closed her iPad and set it aside with an inward sigh. She was used to people dropping in and could usually work around disruptions, but today, somehow, she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t lose herself in the words, and that was so unusual it left her feeling completely off balance. “More news?”

“Depends on what you call news,” Derian said.

Emily glanced up quickly, a small gasp escaping before she could catch it. Derian stood in the doorway looking nonchalant and totally at home, wearing a gorgeous dark gray pinstripe suit with dark chocolate stripes, loafers, and an open-collar shirt that matched the subtle brown in her suit. She looked every inch the business magnate she had always said she didn’t want to be. “Oh, I thought you were Ron.”

“I hope you’re not too disappointed.” Derian raised a brow. “Do you have a moment, or should I come back later?”

Flustered more by the pleasure spilling over her than Derian’s unexpected appearance, Emily searched around for words. The only one that came out was “Yes.”

“As in, you’re disappointed I’m not Ron, this is a good time, or I’m bothering you and I should come back later?” Derian’s infuriatingly charming grin said she knew exactly how Emily was feeling.

How embarrassing.

Gathering her scattered wits, Emily gestured to the chair in front of her desk where Ron had sat an hour before, quizzing her about her feelings for Derian. Suggesting she might want to take Derian to bed. And now Derian, who was most certainly here in an official capacity, was sitting in her office and she could barely put two words together. Did she need any other reminder of why office romances were a bad idea? “Please, of course, come in. I didn’t expect you.”

Derian quietly closed the door and took the seat Emily had indicated. “Sorry, my decision-making process has gotten a little turned around lately. By the time I figure out what I want to do, it’s past time to do it.”

“Please,” Emily said, “you don’t need to explain anything to me.”

Derian crossed her legs at the ankles and managed to look relaxed even while appearing totally in control. “This is your turf, Emily, and we ought to be very clear about that right from the outset.”

“It certainly isn’t,” Emily said, not arguing, but adamant. They needed to be clear about a great many things, it seemed. “If it’s anyone’s turf—after Henrietta’s, of course—it’s yours. Is there something I can do to help?”