Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Sorry, gentlemen, but if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to claim my girlfriend now. I haven’t seen her all night.” Dylan wound his fingers through Raleigh’s and assisted her off the seat, steering her right into his arms. He held her against his chest.
Everywhere his body touched hers, heat rippled across her skin.
He rested one arm around her waist and brought her chin up with his other hand.
Her gaze met his. Awareness ran the entire length of her body.
His eyes darkened before he brushed his lips against hers. “Mm. Missed you, hon.”
“Er, missed you, too,” she said as she tried to take a step back.
It was overwhelming being this close to him.
Exhausted as she was, she needed space to regain her equilibrium.
But Dylan held her in place. He leaned down again and brushed his lips against the hollow behind her ear. She shivered in his arms.
He turned her to face the men, but still kept his arm around her waist. “Night, gentlemen.” He nodded at them.
“Night, Mr. Clark,” she said. Her voice was husky. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Jenkins, have a good evening.”
The men mumbled their good-byes as Dylan ushered her away from the table. He stopped their progress next to the bar and asked her to wait while he talked to the bartender for a minute.
“Why? What do you have to talk to the bartender about?” She was wrung out and wanted desperately to go back to the room.
He looked guilty. “I just want to speak with him about one of the waiters. He was too busy earlier but now that things have slowed down, I think he’ll be able to chat for a second.
“A waiter? Is there a problem?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Raleigh cocked an eyebrow, but Dylan had already moved down the bar to talk with the bartender.
Great. Was he going to question all the staff?
Did it have anything to do with her stalker?
Somehow she didn’t think so. Was this his aversion to her authority rearing its ugly head already?
He was supposed to be working on keeping her safe.
She sat down on one of the recently vacated stools.
Immediately, she felt a presence at her elbow.
“There you are!” a shrill voice screeched in her ear. She turned to see Donna, Lydia’s assistant and event planner. Shoot. She’d been advised to connect with Donna earlier about what Lydia wanted in terms of coverage.
“Hi, Donna. How is everything?”
“Fine,” she snapped. “Why? What have you heard?”
The woman looked stretched to the breaking point.
Her deep red hair was pulled back tight enough to pull the skin around her forehead.
Maybe she thought it would smooth out the wrinkles working for Lydia was giving her.
Donna’s brown eyes had dark circles under them that no make-up could cover, and the whites of her eyes were so bloodshot, it was hard to think of them as white.
Donna was only in her late twenties and she looked twice that.
“Ah, nothing. It was just a…” She sighed. “Forget it.”
“Lydia wants to review everything you’re putting together about tonight.
The write ups for the Look Book plus the pictures and she wants it by midnight.
And here’s a list of the things she’d like you to focus on tomorrow.
” Donna handed her several pages that were stapled together.
“There are a few specific phrases she wants used on the last two pages.”
“Excuse me?” Raleigh could feel her blood start to boil.
“Donna,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “I am happy to show Lydia the work when it’s in the finishing stages.
Nothing will be published until after the event.
We’ve discussed this with Lydia several times.
Once we have the whole picture then we’ll present it to her.
As to phrases she wants used,” Raleigh glanced down at the papers in Donna’s hand, “I’m sure she’ll be satisfied with what we write.
” She didn’t want to add to Donna’s already insane workload by fighting, but this was crazy.
Donna sighed. “Be that as it may, Lydia wants you to have this.”
Raleigh cursed a blue streak in her head as she accepted the papers from Donna.
Donna turned on her heel and stormed off.
“I don’t believe this! Of all the—”
“What’s going on?” Dylan asked as he arrived at her elbow.
“Queen Lydia, that’s what! Apparently, she thinks I can write the copy for the articles about the wedding and have them to her by midnight.”
He nodded. “Sounds like her.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not going to happen. I may have to include her ideas but I do not have to include her words.
If my name is going one this PR piece then it’s going to be damned professional.
Not some amateur shit.” She turned and headed out of the ballroom at a good clip, and Dylan fell in behind her.
“I need to talk to my boss, Max. This is beyond ridiculous. I will not be told what words to use. It’s my job to figure that out.
To make Lydia and the rest of this crowd look good.
Why the hell would she want to write the stuff?
It’s not her profession. It’s literally what I was hired to do! ”
Raleigh walked up the cabin’s front steps and stood in front of the door, waiting for Dylan to unlock it. She looked down at her screen, which remained black, and cursed. Max wasn’t responding.
“You going to be okay?” Dylan asked.
She was bone-crushingly tired. Everything was catching up with her.
The stalker, Jenn being Dylan’s fiancée, now Lydia’s request. “It’s been a long day with a lot of ups and downs,” she said, not really looking at him.
She typed out another message to Max. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod as he opened the door.
He seemed distant, distracted. Great. Now he thought she was psycho and had an anger problem.
She entered the cabin and shivered. It was frigid. “It’s cold in here. I thought you turned the AC off before we left.”
“I did,” he said as he walked over to the thermostat. “It’s set to 60. Someone must have turned it back on again.” He looked around the room.
She shivered again. “Well, they probably have turn-down service. Maybe the guy turned it on when he came to leave the chocolates or whatever.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered as he took a tour of the two front rooms. He checked behind the sofa and then the island in the kitchen.
“Well, I’m going to bed.” Raleigh started down the hallway.
Another wave of exhaustion hit her as she marched toward the bedroom.
“Raleigh, wait! I need to check the rooms first.”
She paused at the doorway of her room and hit the light switch. Something caught her eye and she froze. There on the dresser, in the middle of the vase of white flowers she’d so admired earlier, was a rose.
One. Blood. Red. Rose.