Chapter 30 Paige
Paige
“Paige, this is Harley Conetta, lead principal of Conetta-Everett.”
“Oh, yes, it’s great to meet you.” I shake Harley’s hand, thrilled to finally meet the woman who is going to help us get Project Miranda off the ground. That is, if there still is a project.
“And you, too. I’ve taken a look at your proposal and I’ve got some recommendations as well as a few ideas I’d like to leave with you to consider.”
Harley Conetta is young, maybe my age or a little older but not by much. In her sleek beige pantsuit, she walks farther into the room and removes a folder and some spiral-bound books from her oversized tote.
I glance to Nan, unsure how to proceed. I’m prepared to walk away from the Rothwell Foundation after tonight’s gala and I’m turning down the foundation job.
I don’t want to be the reason Project Miranda fails.
We need the funding to proceed. The Hussey donation is substantial and if the foundation loses that, we’d have to fundraise for months and it would set back our goals and projections.
“Hear her out and we’ll talk after,” Nan says, following Harley into the room.
The three of us spend an hour going over the books and talking through next steps once we’ve tallied the funds raised from tonight’s gala. Harley leaves with a promise to see us both this evening.
I no sooner shut the door and Nan says from behind me, “He asked for my ring to propose to you.”
Frozen, I rest my head against the cool wood of the door and draw in a deep breath. She isn’t even giving me a chance to gather my thoughts. When I turn around, her petite silhouette casts a small shadow across the floor.
“Pardon?”
“Zachary came to me and told me he wanted to marry you and asked for my ring. He didn’t have to sell me on the idea, but he did anyway.”
Even as my heart does a strange flutter at this news, I can’t help but think of course he went to Nan first. She holds the purse strings to his trust. He’s a strategist and it’s a well-planned move.
What better way for her to believe it’s love and give him his trust fund than to ask for her permission?
“So?” Stiffening, I try to casually walk into the living room, hoping I’m hiding my discomfort.
“So, I thought you might like to know.” She sits on the couch and I take the seat across from her as she studies me.
“This changes nothing. I can’t trust him. I knew nothing about his past with Reagan. He lied to me.” A sharp twinge in my chest causes me to pause. Yeah, I lied, too. Isn’t that what we do? Lie to each other?
“Really?” Nan arches a brow, pushing to the edge of her seat. “Don’t let Reagan Hussey bother you. She’s had her eyes on the prize since she was barely a teenager. And the prize isn’t my grandson. It’s the Rothwell name.”
While Nan’s comments about Reagan are like Zach’s, I’m not sure it changes anything. Closing my eyes, I push on, changing the subject.
“Thank you for bringing Ms. Conetta here. She’s so smart and it was lovely of her to meet with me and share her ideas.
Her vision for Project Miranda is amazing and I can see great things for the foundation, but I can’t be a part of it.
We need the Hussey money and if Reagan goes through with it, we’ll be scrambling to find the millions elsewhere. ”
I don’t bother to add that I’m also done with anything to do with Zachary Rothwell.
“Oh, and you bowing out is purely altruistic and your decision has nothing to do with Zachary?” Her tone is haughty and even slightly ticked with what I’m sure she thinks is my childish behavior.
“And what about the role I offered you? Let me guess, you don’t want that, either.
And what about me? You think so little of me that you want to be done with me, too? ”
“No. Never.” I sit up and swing my legs over the side. “It isn’t about Zach. It’s about what’s best for the foundation.”
“Nonsense. You are best for the foundation. I may be a sentimental old woman, but I didn’t ask you to run the gala and offer you the leading role at the foundation because I like you.
I did it because you are exactly what I’ve been looking for.
Your enthusiasm is contagious, your ideas fresh and inspiring, and I want that legacy for my family name. ”
A knot gathers in my throat as she showers me with undeserved compliments. If she only knew.
“As for Zachary. You belong together. It’s as plain as the nose on my face.
” She stands with her hands on her hips.
“You’re going to get ready for this evening and after the success of Nuit étoilée, you’ll report to the foundation in your capacity as Director of Strategy and Development.
I won’t take no for an answer.” She doesn’t even give me a chance to respond and leaves.
The condo is like a revolving door. After Nan, I have another visitor. Donovan. He leans against the doorjamb of the condo because I refuse to let him in and smiles at me condescendingly.
“I figured you’d need a date for tonight.”
Why does this man seem to forget he’s married? I’ve yet to meet his wife and his wandering eye doesn’t appear to be a secret, yet no one acts like it’s a big deal or absolutely disgusting.
“And where did you get that idea?”
His laugh is arrogant, and he quirks a brow. “Oh, Paige, don’t underestimate me. I heard all about yesterday’s excitement. You cost the Rothwell Foundation some serious bank.”
How the hell does he know about Reagan and yesterday? His father, Cormac, wasn’t there and I can’t believe his father would have told him a thing anyway. Maybe Reagan, although I wasn’t aware they were close.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feign indifference, regretting the choice when his eyes darken with patronizing glee.
“Reagan pulled all of the funding and she’s backed out of tonight.”
I fail at hiding my shock and my insides curdle like souring milk. What on earth is Nan thinking to let Reagan do that? I didn’t want them to have to choose and would have willingly walked away.
“But never you mind, Donovan is here to save the day.” He inches closer without me realizing until it’s too late.
He twists a finger around a stray lock that’s escaped my messy bun. Winding my hair tighter around his digit, he steps into my space and his cloying cologne causes me to gag. I really don’t like this guy.
“Back off,” I snap, pulling my hair from his grasp.
His chuckle is wicked, and he grins. “You don’t even want to hear my proposition? I thought you’d be more than willing since that’s your thing. Spread your legs for a rich man.”
“Fuck you.” I slap him across the face.
Despite being able to stop me, he watches my hand connect with his jaw, without even so much as a flinch. My stomach twists at the fiery excitement I see in his eyes.
“Absolutely. You fuck me, I fuck you. Any time,” he drawls, and I growl, my palm throbbing at my side and I try to step away, but I’m not fast enough.
He grabs my wrist, drawing me flush to him, and his growing arousal is hard against my stomach. Bile gathers in my mouth.
“Get the fuck out.” I lift my knee, holding it so he gets my meaning.
His amusement never wavers but he does put distance between us, going back to his spot at the door. “I’ll pitch in some money, not as much as what the Husseys were going to but close, and in exchange, you go with me to the gala.”
“What?” I hate to admit it but there is a second where I actually contemplate his offer. As much as I hate him, a date to the gala seems like a small price to pay for what he’s offering. But that’s the thing, now, isn’t it?
“I’m not interested, but tell me how you know so much? How did you know about what happened with Reagan?” I push at his chest and he stumbles until his back hits the wall.
Curiosity is getting the better of me because I want him to leave but not until I’m able to fit all the puzzle pieces together. I don’t dare ask how he knew about my deal with Zach, but my guess is he’s getting all of his information from one source.
He winks slyly. “Reagan and I are very much alike. We go way back. She helped me snag Cecilia many moons ago, and now it’s my turn to help her bag Zach.” He folds his arms and leans lazily against the wall.
“Like me, Reagan isn’t marrying for love.
It’s all about the power of the union. Why do you think you’ve never seen my darling wife?
” For an instant something akin to pain flashes in his eyes, but just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced with malice.
“Cece would rather be in hell than anywhere I am. We live separate lives but on paper we’re a formidable pair.
Fuck, I thought dear old Dad would have gotten off my back after I married Cecilia Black.
He should have been impressed…” He trails off, dragging his hand harshly through his hair before his tormented gaze lands back on me.
“A Hussey-Rothwell union would be much the same and Reagan is nothing if not driven to be among the most powerful and richest. She was giving Zach time to cool off, build his desperation for his trust, or even her money, then she’d swoop back in and get his last name. But you fucked that up.”
He laughs and with each rumble, my stomach flips and twists with the knowledge that these people—wealthy, insensitive people like Donovan and Reagan—treat life and people’s lives like a game.
Love, happiness, and any other emotion aren’t worth anything to them.
While he’s given me a lot to think about, there’s still something I just don’t quite understand.
“So that explains Reagan’s motives, but what about yours?”
As if I’ve poked the bear, he springs to life, pushing from the wall to bump chests with me.
I press my hands flat against his chest and he willingly backs away, but not altogether.
His torso leans into my palms, and I want to release my hold but fear he’ll topple onto me and that would be worse than how we are right now.