Page 66 of Escorting the CEO
Grammy sighed. “Just that you’d met someone and it seems serious. I told her I was worried about you.”
“Grammy.” I closed my eyes. “Listen to me. I’m okay. I promise you that I’m okay. And Mom was probably just drunk. Or worse, like you said.”
“Probably.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t like any of this, honey. Not how I left things with your mother, and not how I left things withyou. Are you safe? Are youactuallyokay? Because I feel like everything’s gone wrong since you left.”
“I’m standing in a beautiful room looking at mountains,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“This isn’t like you, running off like this with some guy.” She sounded frustrated. “Can you at least admit that?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet for a moment. This was an answer in itself, and my grandmother knew it.
“Come home,” she said softly. “Just come home, Rory. We don’t need the money—we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
“I can’t.” My throat tightened. “I have to be here. I have to see this through.”
“Why?” she asked simply.
I thought of Luke. I thought of Rhodes’s text, efficient and careful, telling me everything except what I actually wanted to know. I thought of the vows I wasn’t writing, and Miranda in the library, and that I’d promised myself I would deal with her threats today.
“Because I made a promise,” I finally said. “And I don’t break promises. That’s not who I am.”
Grammy was quiet for a long moment. “No,” she said at last. “It’s not.”
“Keep the doors locked,” I said. “Don’t answer if she calls again. Let it go to voicemail. And Grammy? Don’t tell Josie and Bo. Please. They’ve been through enough when it comes to her.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll call you tonight. I love you.”
“I love you too, honey.”
We hung up, and I stood at the window for a moment. The mountains gleamed in the distance, all-knowing, impenetrable. I wished they’d tell me what to do.
I felt like the walls were closing in on me.
First, there was Miranda.
Now, my mom was on alert.
She’d been served with guardianship paperwork. And what else had happened? Did my mother have any idea about my current involvement with the Barrington family—and how much they were worth?
A pit formed in my stomach.
But there was little I could do right now. I straightened up and squared my shoulders. Then I went to find something appropriate to wear to my first-ever board meeting, so I could continue playing the role of the perfect fiancé, even while on the inside, I was on the verge of falling apart.
THE BOARDROOM
RORY
Philips ledme to the boardroom at precisely nine a.m., opened the door, and stepped aside.
I walked in, grateful for the cream-colored pantsuit I’d found neatly hung in my closet.
The room was imposing in the specific way that rooms designed to impress always were: high ceilings, dark wood paneling, a table that could fit twenty. A row of tall windows looked out over the sprawling lawn, the mountains jutting in the distance, a billion-dollar view.
The board members were already seated. I recognized most of them from the barbecue and the formal dinner. Abigail Furst with her enormous watch, Rahim and Haruki side by side, Cousin Andrew at the far end, nursing what I sincerely hoped was coffee. The president, Terry Hazleton. A few faces were new to me. Everyone was impeccably dressed, sported fancy pens and leather-bound notebooks, and seemed entirely the kind of people who had never once worried about a foreclosure notice tucked behind a calendar.
They looked up when I entered.
