Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,12
room again, he was back at it with a crossword puzzle. He’d read once that they could help prevent dementia, so now he worked on them daily.
“I’m going to head home. Oh, and don’t forget, I’m going out of town for a few days. If you need me to pick up anything before I go, let me know.”
“Where are you going?”
“Las Vegas.”
“Why the hell would you go there?”
I laughed. “For work. And my friends are all coming too. We’re making a little trip out of it.”
He held me in a skeptical stare. “Your friends are all going?”
“Yep. Nora is coming, and so are Hazel and Corban. Not for work, of course. They’re just coming for fun.”
“Well, you probably won’t get into too much trouble then.”
“Of course not. What kind of trouble could we get into?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I know: It’s Vegas. But Everly’s pregnant, so it’s going to be really low-key. We’re going to the spa and maybe to a show or something.”
He grunted and adjusted his reading glasses. “Just be careful.”
“I will. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“The day I stop worrying about you is the day I go into the ground.”
“Thanks, Dad. That’s sweet but very morbid.”
And there really wasn’t anything he needed to worry about. Sure, Mr. Calloway had a meeting with Camden Cox, but I probably wouldn’t have to see him. And even if I did, I could handle it. The man had pulled my pigtails when we were kids, and he’d seen up my dress at the fundraiser, but…
Okay, when I thought about it like that, maybe this Vegas trip wasn’t such a great idea.
But it was too late to back out now. Besides, I only had to work part of the time, and the rest would be all fun with my friends. The worst that could happen is I’d run into Camden Cox. Even with my luck, how bad could it really be?
5
Cox
A last-minute trip to Vegas wasn’t ideal, but when Oliver had told me that was the best he could do with Calloway, I’d decided to take it. Besides, I loved Vegas. I’d do some business, then see what kind of trouble I could find in Sin City.
I’d arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. I wasn’t nervous in the traditional sense of the word. But I did have a steady pulse of energy moving through me. I needed to make this deal happen.
Shepherd Calloway came in wearing a dark suit and tie. I noted the hard set of his jaw, the focus in his blue eyes, and the wedding ring that glinted on his finger. Although we’d never officially met, we moved in the same circles and his reputation preceded him.
I stood and adjusted the cuffs of my sleeves. We shook hands and made the necessary introductions.
And then she rushed in behind him.
Tension crawled up my spine, tightening my back in a wave. A surprising rush of pressure hit my groin so fast, I almost grunted from the force of it.
“Mr. Calloway, I’m sorry, but you left your phone.”
Her soft blond curls were pulled up and she wore a dark blue wrap dress that showcased her delicious curves. She held out a phone to Calloway and her eyes darted toward me, then back, like she was trying not to make eye contact.
“Thank you.” Calloway took the phone from her.
Why was she here? Did she work for him? I’d never been jealous of another man in my life, but in that moment, I seethed with envy. He got to spend every day with her? With my Sophia?
Only she wasn’t mine, in any sense of the word, and the truth of that lit a flare of anger in my gut.
“You’re welcome.” Her eyes flicked to me again. “Sorry to interrupt. I just thought you’d want it.”
He slipped his phone into his pocket and gave her a nod, effectively dismissing her.
“She can stay,” I blurted out, then tried not to visibly flinch. Why had I said that?
If Calloway thought my statement was odd, he gave no indication. “If you don’t mind, Sophie.”
Sophie? Was that a term of endearment? Calloway was married, but what sort of man was he?
And why the fuck did I care?
Her eyes widened and she fidgeted with her handbag. “Oh. Yes, I can. Sure, no problem.”
“My assistant, Sophie Abbott,” Calloway said by way of introduction, then smoothly took a seat at the table.
Maybe that was simply her name. Had I misheard the other night?