Reunited with the Lassiter Bride

They both stayed silent as he pulled onto Sunset, pointing the sports car toward the Pacific Coast Highway.

“You can do it for one night,” she told him as he navigated traffic beneath the bright streetlights.

“Do what for one night?” He wondered if she was aware of the many interesting ways that statement could be taken.

She’d probably slap his face if she knew what he was picturing right now.

His mouth flexed in a half smile at his own thoughts. If this really were the 1950s, she would slap his face, but he’d kiss her anyway, pinning her hard against the nearest wall. Then she’d quickly capitulate and kiss him back, because she was only protesting out of a duty to be a good girl, not because she was unwilling.

“Call me Angie,” she answered, startling him out of the daydream.

“I can call you Angie for one night?”

“While we’re at Conrad Norville’s pretending to be friends. But that’s it.”

“I don’t think you can control what I call you,” he countered casually.

She fussed with the hem of her skirt, and there was something defiant in her tone. “I can control what I call you.”

“Call me anything you like.”

“What about incompetent and irresponsible?”

“Excuse me?” He swung a glance her way for a second before returning his attention to the winding highway. “You’re planning to insult me in front of Norville?”

“Not Norville. I had a phone call this morning. Somebody looking for a reference on your work with Lassiter Media.”

“Who?” Evan immediately asked.

“Lyle Dunstand from Eden International.”

Anger clenched his stomach, and his tone went iron-hard. “You’d actually undermine my business out of spite?”

She was silent for a moment. “Relax, Evan. I told them you’d done a fantastic job under trying circumstances. I gave you complete credit for last year’s expansion into Britain and Australia, and I said your instincts for people were second to none.”

His anger dissipated as quickly as it had formed.

“My point is,” she continued. “I’m treating you with respect and professionalism. You could at least do the same for me.”

“I didn’t give anyone your contact information,” he assured her. “I was hoping they’d avoid checking with Lassiter.”

“I can’t see that happening. You were with us for several years.” She angled her body to face him. “So, you’re opening up the consulting agency again.”

“I have to earn a living.”

“My father left you a lot of money.”

Evan coughed out a cold laugh. “Like I’m going to touch Lassiter money.”

She seemed to consider his words. “Are you angry with him?”

“Hell, yes, I’m angry with him. He used me. He messed with my life like I was some pawn in his private game.”

“He assumed we’d be married by the time he died.”

Evan twisted his head to look at her again. “And that makes it better? He sets me up as CEO in order to test your loyalty to him, and then he cuts me loose to do what? Play second fiddle to my own wife at Lassiter?”

She seemed to consider his statement. “Are you saying you’d have a problem working for me? If we were married, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“But you’d have been okay with me working for you?”

He gave a shrug. “It might not be logical or fair. But, yeah, I could live with that.”

“Now who’s living in the 1950s?”

He didn’t disagree. “It’s a moot point. Neither of those things is ever going to happen.”

“Because we’ll never be married.”

“Stating the obvious again, Angie.”

“Angelica.”

“You said I could have one night.” He wheeled the car into a left turn, and down the private road that led to Conrad Norville’s estate.

* * *

They met Conrad in the great room of his oceanfront residence. Even though Angelica had spent years living in the Lassiter mansion, she was taken aback by the size and opulence of the home. The great room was accessed through a massive foyer and a marble pillared hallway decorated in ivory and gold. The room was huge, rectangular, with a thirty-foot ceiling. Its beachside wall was completely made of glass. In the center of the glass wall, several panels were drawn aside, turning the patio into an extension of the house.

The patio itself was beautifully set up for entertaining, with different tiers that held tables, comfortable lounge furniture groupings, and gas fire pits surrounded by padded chairs. The lowest tier jutted out over a cliff, offering a spectacular view of the rocks and waves, while a side area held a swimming pool, complete with a pool house and a massive wet bar.

As Conrad shook her hand in welcome, he gave Angelica’s outfit a critical once over. He didn’t make any comment, and she couldn’t tell what he thought.

“Your family’s been in the news lately,” he stated, giving a signal to a waiting butler who immediately moved forward with a silver tray of drinks.

“Things have stabilized now,” said Angelica, standing next to the open doorways, appreciating the fresh ocean breeze. “I think we’re all ready to move forward on a positive path.”

“You never want to become the story.” Conrad took a crystal glass from the waiter’s tray. It contained a small quantity of amber liquid.

“Being in the media wasn’t something any of us enjoyed,” Angelica agreed.

The butler offered her a drink, and she took it, guessing it was probably single malt, since Conrad owned a distillery in Scotland and often sang its praises. She hated single malt, but she’d drink it if she had to.

“Is your daddy a crazy man?” Conrad asked, studying her expression while he waited for her answer.

Though they’d tried to guard the details of J.D.’s will, with Conrad’s industry and social contacts, he’d likely have learned more than most people outside the family.