day playing catch-up with New York. There was a reason Peter had moved Swype to Manhattan and it wasn’t only because, as Katrina had hypothesized, his soul was too dark for the California sunlight.
So, yeah, she had a ton of shit to do, and she ought to be obsessing over whether Peter was slithering in to take over Matchmaker while she waited around for Annabelle. But here she was analyzing Samson’s lack of flirty emojis to death.
A knock came on her office door and she dropped the phone on her desk in a clatter. Hopefully, she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. “Yes?”
Lakshmi stuck her head in. “Um, can you come out here for a second? Something was delivered for you.”
Rhiannon didn’t like that odd, suppressed glee in her friend’s voice. She warily got to her feet. “Is it April Fool’s?”
“No. Come out here.”
Rhiannon followed Lakshmi out of her office. The problem with open layout was that everyone could see everything. About twenty or so of her employees were gathered around, with the others craning their necks from their desks.
The attraction was a giant cake sitting in the middle of the floor. Actually, giant was probably an understatement. At least five feet tall, six layers, it was made of Styrofoam, decorated in purple and pink and white, with fat flowers on top.
The small, youngish blonde standing next to it was familiar, but as unexpected as the cake. She stepped forward. “Ms. Hunter.”
Rhiannon slowly accepted her hand. “Tina, right?”
“Yes.” Her smile was rueful. “I am so sorry for this disruption. I told Annabelle you wouldn’t love it, but I couldn’t talk her out of the idea. I figured I would come with, to minimize any trauma.”
“I’m fine with some disruptions but . . . wait, did you say trauma?” Rhiannon looked around but her employees were no help. Though at least half of them had their phones out and up. “What is this?”
Tina bit her lower lip. “It’s an invitation.”
Rhiannon took a step closer to the cake. She leaned forward to read what was on top. “An invitation to—”
She staggered back when the cake exploded. “Surprise,” shouted the well-built man in tight leather pants who now stood in place of the cake. He tossed something in Rhiannon’s direction, and she recoiled at the puff of glitter.
“What the fuck?” she yelped.
The man cleared his throat and unfurled a piece of paper. “Hear ye, hear ye. Rhiannon Hunter, you have been invited to the home of Annabelle Kostas to take part in a corporate extravaganza. You have a week to prepare your presentation and pitch for you know what. Please me, and perhaps you shall be pleased. Signed, Annabelle Kostas.” The man rolled up the paper and presented it, with a smaller cake, an edible replica of the giant fake cake. “You can eat this one,” he said with a wink.
When no one moved, Lakshmi accepted the offerings. “Um, thank you.”
“God, I’m so sorry.” Tina wrung her hands.
“I’m not eating a cake that was closed up with a sweaty man for God knows how long,” Rhi heard someone murmur as the guy clambered out of his cake and started wheeling it away.
“Fuck, it’s cake. I’ll eat it,” another employee said.
Lakshmi looked around. “Lin, would you like to take this, um, man cake to the break room. And everyone get back to work.”
There was good-natured grumbling as the crowd dispersed, one of the employees snagging the cake from Lakshmi. Rhi turned slowly to Tina and enunciated each word. “I have glitter in my hair.”
Tina grimaced. “Uh, yes. Would you like me to . . .”
“Help me remove the herpes of crafts from my hair?” Rhiannon nodded. Glitter tumbled to the carpet.
Lakshmi handed her the note and brushed at Rhiannon’s curls. “At least it’s your favorite color,” she remarked.
True. Unfortunately, she wore a black sweatshirt today, which meant the pink glitter was showing up really well. “I don’t like any color glitter.”
“Again, I am so sorry,” Tina said. She timidly dusted at Rhiannon’s shoulder. “Annabelle is . . . eccentric.”
Rhiannon glanced around to make sure no one was listening. She trusted all her employees, but no need to get anyone’s hopes up if nothing would come of this. “What that stripper was saying . . .”
“Not a stripper,” Tina said hastily. “I nixed that idea.”
“What is Kostas’s deal?” Lakshmi wondered out loud. “Is she nuts?”
Tina drew herself up to her full height, and haughty arrogance replaced her contrition. “My employer is not nuts. She’s