Chapter 13 Duty Calls
"So, Scarlett," he says, "are you an investor, or one of Tom's mysterious plus-ones?"
"Neither."
He spins me out smoothly, then I'm back in his arms, closer this time.
"I'm Lawrence Moore's executive assistant."
Something flashes across Kieran's face.
"Ah. You work for Lawrence."
His tone sounds like he's congratulating me on surviving a natural disaster.
"Story of my life," I laugh softly.
He grins, then spins me again, but slower this time.
"What about you?" I ask.
"CEO of Black Forge and major investor in GoodLife," he answers, guiding me through a gentle turn. "Tom and I go way back."
The music transitions into something dreamier.
Kieran's hand slides from my waist to my upper back, his thumb brushing it.
"You're really good at dancing." I venture casually.
"There are a lot of things I'm really good at, Miss Thorn." His tone is teasing.
I blush.
He leans in, his lips near my ear. "Have dinner with me after this. Somewhere quiet,"
I arch a brow at him.
"Hear me out, it'll be just you and me. No bosses. And I assure you I'm more interesting than whatever nightmare Lawrence has planned for you tomorrow."
His hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. "What do you say?"
Before I can answer, I feel someone behind me.
"Sorry to interrupt whatever this is." Lawrence's voice cuts through our conversation.
He moves to my side, his gaze shifting from me to Kieran.
"Lawrence."
"Kieran."
Their exchange is polite.
Then Lawrence's attention cuts back to me. I can tell he's furious, and I'm in trouble already.
"Miss Thorn," he says in an icy voice, "Duty calls."
Before I can reply, he pulls me away from the dancefloor.
I stumble after him, throwing a quick look over my shoulder.
Kieran watches us go, shaking his head with a helpless smile.
"I'll find you later," he mouths.
Great. Like that's not going to anger the dragon at all.
When we reach a quieter corner of the hall, Lawrence turns on me.
"Why are you here, Miss Thorn?"
His voice is low and dangerous.
"To assist you and represent the company," I answer in a level tone despite my heart beating hard.
"Exactly." His eyes bore into mine. "And were you doing either of those things while letting Kieran Black put his hands all over you?"
Heat floods my face. "You were occupied. I was simply…"
"Answer the question," he cuts in.
"No," I bite out.
He stares at me, his jaw clenching, an entire storm behind those black frames.
Lawrence is about to say more when his gaze drops right to the tiny champagne stain near my waist.
Of course, he'd notice something no sane person would.
When he looks up, he stares at me like I've spilt an entire bottle down the front of a white dress.
"Do you do this on purpose, Miss Thorn? Do you find new ways to be careless the second I take my eyes off you?"
Here we go again.
"The evening has been underway for forty-five minutes. Forty-five. And you're already… this." He gestures to the tiny stain. "Did you come here to represent Law & Moore, or to ruin its image?"
"It was an accident," I reply through my teeth.
"Accidents like this are preventable," he snaps in a hushed tone.
"Not all of them are, sir"
The glare he throws at me makes me squirm.
"For the rest of the evening, you will remain by my side. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
He turns and saunters away without another word. I follow him.
The rest of the evening is boring.
Lawrence introduces me to senators, philanthropists, and tech titans as his executive assistant.
I smile until my teeth threaten to fall out, supply statistics when he glances my way and laugh politely at jokes that aren't in the least bit funny.
Lawrence is perfect.
He has the perfect posture, the perfect answers to every single question, and the perfect composure.
It's infuriating.
Occasionally, I look around for Kieran, but I stopped seeing him some minutes ago.
"Hold this." Lawrence suddenly presses his half-empty flute into my hand without looking. "They'll call me up any second now."
On cue, the woman at the podium beams, gesturing in our direction. "And now, to say a few words about this project, please welcome Lawrence Moore!"
A thunderous applause breaks out.
He buttons his tux jacket smoothly and strides toward the stage with so much aura.
The spotlight finds him as he leans in to reach the mic, a rare, genuine smile softening his face.
"Good evening," he begins confidently. "Most of you know I'm not sentimental. I'm the guy who builds things that make money."
Yeah, no shit.
"Usually, I don't attend events that make people cry in a good way."
Soft laughter floats through the crowd.
"But tonight is different. Tonight isn't about me or Law & Moore. It's about my good old friend, Tom Castle, who decided that when people reach the final chapter of their lives, they deserve beauty, dignity, and garden views instead of fluorescent lights and beeping machines."
He gestures toward Tom, who lifts his glass from the front row.
He keeps talking about technology serving humanity, and the whole room is listening raptly.
Including me.
The sight of him behind a podium is riveting, and I stand there watching him be brilliant, my stomach churning with mixed feelings.
Because for one silly, dangerous moment on that stage, he doesn't look like my tyrant boss.
He looks like a man I could fall for.
And that is the most terrifying thought I've had all night.
I'm so busy watching Lawrence that I don't notice someone stepping up beside me until a rich baritone sounds out.
"Miss Thorn, isn't it?"
I turn and nearly choke on my saliva.
It's Reginald Swan. A seventy-two-year-old titan in the business world, and one of our company's biggest prospective investors. Lawrence has been trying to secure him since the moment he landed in New York.
And now he's talking to me.
"Mr Swan," I recover with a smile. "Good evening."
He nods. "I've heard excellent things about you, young lady. Miss Thorn, keeper of Richard Fox's and now Lawrence's calendar."
A blush creeps up my throat. "I do my best, sir."
He leans casually against a tall drink table, his eyes sharp with interest.
"Tell me, how is our friend Moore settling into the New York branch? Running the place with his usual efficiency, I presume?"
"Very much so," I say, nervously lifting Lawrence's abandoned flute to my lips for a sip because my throat has gone dry.
"He manages multiple departments with an exceptionally strong sense of, uh... direction," I answer carefully.
A faint smirk pulls at Reginald's lips. "That's Lawrence. Never met a problem he couldn't solve with sheer force of will."
I risk a glance at the stage. Lawrence is still talking, but his eyes are on me.
The smile he's wearing for the audience doesn't reach them. And I know deep down he's telling me, "Don't screw this up."
Reginald continues, delighted to have my attention. "Well," he says, straightening, "since you work so closely with him, perhaps you can help me with something."
He lowers his voice. "Lawrence has been asking me to come in on this quantum-cloud play, wants me to anchor the whole thing." His eyes hold mine. "So tell me, Miss Thorn… why should I?"
I open my mouth to speak. "Well, sir, Law & Moore's growth over the past five years has been, uh…"
I hear Lawrence ending his speech with a smooth, "Thank you, Tom, and thank you all."
"...consistently strong, and with the infrastructure we've already built, we're positioned to…"
Mr Swan watches me patiently, his eyebrows raised.
Shit. I'm fumbling.