The Color of Love

by Radclyffe

  *

  “Hi, Vonnie darlin’.” Derian swung around Vonnie’s desk and kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful as always.”

  Vonnie jumped up and gave Derian a quick hug. In a low voice, she said, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How have you been? Still my favorite bad girl?”

  “So I’m told.”

  “No, really,” Vonnie said gently. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

  “I’ve been doing okay,” Derian said, stretching the truth a bit. With each passing day she wondered if she’d been doing anything more than killing time—or maybe wasting it, along with her life. “A lot better now that Henrietta is on the mend.”

  “Don’t I know it?” Vonnie glanced behind her at the closed office doors. “Her getting back here can’t be too soon for me.”

  “Donatella hasn’t left yet?”

  “Not unless she flew out the window on her broom, which wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

  Derian laughed. “Is everything pretty much under control?”

  “We’ve had some concerned calls from clients and publisher reps, worried that Henrietta’s absence will disrupt some of our commitments. Everyone knows Henrietta is the power here.”

  “Just tell anyone who asks it’s business as usual and there won’t be any changes.”

  “I wish that were the case, but—”

  “Don’t worry. Just leave it to me.”

  “You know what you’re up against in there?” Vonnie’s brows drew down in worry.

  “Hey, I was born for this, remember?” Derian strode to Henrietta’s door, knocked perfunctorily, and let herself in. Donatella hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d seen her, although she appeared thinner, if that was even possible. Her skin was stretched tight over sharp facial bones, her dark hair sculpted to her skull. She wore gold at her throat and her wrists, her black suit severely tailored to her anorectic frame. Her wide mouth tightened, her voice a hiss. “Derian.”

  “Hi, Donatella,” Derian said easily, shedding her suit jacket and draping it over a clothes tree. She rolled up her sleeves, scanning the room. Henrietta’s touch was everywhere—floor-to-ceiling glass-fronted bookcases filled with countless books by authors the agency had represented over the past hundred years, the comfortable seating area where Derian could imagine HW or Emily relaxing with a manuscript, the huge desk from which HW steered the agency. “Did Martin call?”

  “He did.”

  Derian turned and slid her hands into her pockets. “I’ll grab a cup of coffee while you gather up your things.”

  “As I’m sure Martin informed you, we have an audit ongoing which will take some time to complete.” If possible, her lips grew even thinner. “Long overdue.”

  “The business offices are on the third floor. I’ll make sure someone gives you a space to work. But I’ll be working here.”

  “Really, Derian,” Donatella said condescendingly, “how far do you plan to take this charade? You don’t know anything about the business, and even if you did—”

  “I’ve already been this route with Martin, and I don’t really have time or the inclination to repeat myself. I plan to run the agency in Henrietta’s absence. If you have an issue with that, you can take it to my father.” She grinned, the kind of grin that said, Go ahead, make my day. “He can take it to the board. I’ll be happy to fight it out there.”

  Martin would not want a public schism. He was chairman of the board, but at least half the members were elected by the shareholders, and he would not tolerate any show of weakness to those who might conceivably challenge him in the future. His image was all important, and he would want to appear unassailable. Derian wondered if Martin had any idea his attempts at training her to win in the business world would one day be used against him. She smiled at the thought.

  “Your aunt,” Donatella said with a touch of distaste, “has run this business like a charity for far too long. The staff is bloated, half of the clients are marginal producers if that, and the agency’s catalog is hopelessly outdated. Nothing short of a complete overhaul will bring this business into the twenty-first century. Do you really think you’re capable of that?”

  Derian held on to her temper. She didn’t mind being insulted, but she wouldn’t stand for Henrietta being criticized when she wasn’t there to defend herself. “You’d be surprised,” she said softly, “at exactly what I’m capable of doing. If you’d like to find out, you can try standing in my way.”

  Donatella lost the staring contest and rose with a huffing sound. She gathered papers and pushed them into a large black shoulder bag. “This is a ridiculous, childish maneuver that will only compound the problems at this institution. I expect you’ll discover you’re in well over your head very shortly. Call me when that happens.” Her thin smile blossomed crimson, as if infused with fresh blood. “At that point I think the board will be delighted with anything we suggest, so you’ll be doing us a favor when you fail.”

  Derian stepped aside as Donatella stormed out. An unexpected wave of satisfaction rolled through her despite Donatella’s prediction. She hadn’t expected winning a round in business to be as satisfying as pulling down a large take at the tables, but it was. Maybe she’d been missing out on something all this time.

  Donatella was right about one thing, though. She didn’t know exactly how to win at this game, and she needed to find out. Henrietta’s legacy and a lot of people’s futures, including Emily’s, depended on her being able to pull this off. She opened the door. “Vonnie?”

  Vonnie swiveled in her chair, a pleased expression on her face. “Yes, boss?”

  “Derian will do.” Derian chuckled. “Where’s Emily’s office?”

  Vonnie’s smile widened and she pointed. “Around the corner and down the hall to your right. First door.”

  “Thanks,” Derian said, heading off in the direction Vonnie so kindly indicated for her with a buzz of expectation.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ron was at the door again. Emily closed her iPad and set it aside with an inward sigh. She was used to people dropping in and could usually work around disruptions, but today, somehow, she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t lose herself in the words, and that was so unusual it left her feeling completely off balance. “More news?”

  “Depends on what you call news,” Derian said.

  Emily glanced up quickly, a small gasp escaping before she could catch it. Derian stood in the doorway looking nonchalant and totally at home, wearing a gorgeous dark gray pinstripe suit with dark chocolate stripes, loafers, and an open-collar shirt that matched the subtle brown in her suit. She looked every inch the business magnate she had always said she didn’t want to be. “Oh, I thought you were Ron.”

  “I hope you’re not too disappointed.” Derian raised a brow. “Do you have a moment, or should I come back later?”

  Flustered more by the pleasure spilling over her than Derian’s unexpected appearance, Emily searched around for words. The only one that came out was “Yes.”

  “As in, you’re disappointed I’m not Ron, this is a good time, or I’m bothering you and I should come back later?” Derian’s infuriatingly charming grin said she knew exactly how Emily was feeling.

  How embarrassing.

  Gathering her scattered wits, Emily gestured to the chair in front of her desk where Ron had sat an hour before, quizzing her about her feelings for Derian. Suggesting she might want to take Derian to bed. And now Derian, who was most certainly here in an official capacity, was sitting in her office and she could barely put two words together. Did she need any other reminder of why office romances were a bad idea? “Please, of course, come in. I didn’t expect you.”

  Derian quietly closed the door and took the seat Emily had indicated. “Sorry, my decision-making process has gotten a little turned around lately. By the time I figure out what I want to do, it’s past time to do it.”

  “Please,” Emily said, “you don’t need to explain anything to me.”


  Derian crossed her legs at the ankles and managed to look relaxed even while appearing totally in control. “This is your turf, Emily, and we ought to be very clear about that right from the outset.”

  “It certainly isn’t,” Emily said, not arguing, but adamant. They needed to be clear about a great many things, it seemed. “If it’s anyone’s turf—after Henrietta’s, of course—it’s yours. Is there something I can do to help?”

  “How about relaxing? I was hoping you’d be glad to see me.”

  “I am,” Emily said quickly and, smiling ruefully, shook her head. “I really am. I’m sorry. Everything is just a little off track for me these days.”

  “I understand. For me too.” Derian sat forward, her forearms casually resting on her long, lean thighs. “You have me a little off-kilter too.”

  “Perhaps,” Emily said, although Derian looked anything but off-kilter. She looked confident and self-assured. Under other circumstances, Emily might have wanted to hear just how she’d managed to put such a formidable woman off stride, but this was not the place. Warring with her desire to verbally dance with Derian, she finally surrendered to reason. “As unlikely as I find that, we should save that conversation for another time.”

  “You’re absolutely right. And we will.” Derian grinned. Emily was interested, she could feel it. And Emily was also totally correct that the office needed to be someplace where business, and only business, was the topic. It was just so damn hard not to flirt with her, when all she thought about was her. “I have evicted Donatella.”

  “Bless you,” Emily said with real feeling.

  “I’ll take that as a happy thought.”

  Emily snorted. “You have just made a dozen people very, very happy.”

  “I doubt anyone downstairs in the business department will like me very much,” Derian said. “She’s doing an audit and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I sent her downstairs where at least she won’t have an opportunity to intrude on your end of things.”

  “Thank you. Is the audit anything to worry about, do you think?” Emily hesitated, unsure of her ground with a new chief administrator, and added quickly, “Of course, that’s not something you need to tell me, but—”

  “Emily,” Derian said, “we both know you should be sitting in Henrietta’s office. A snarl of red tape and some antiquated opinions about lines of succession are the only things preventing it.”

  “I appreciate you saying that, but neither of those barriers is minor, and besides, it’s not entirely accurate. I’ll admit Henrietta has intimated that one day, my role in the company might change, but that time isn’t now. Certainly not when my status is so uncertain.”

  “The visa, you mean?”

  Emily nodded. “Who knows what will happen with that now.”

  “Nothing any different is going to happen,” Derian said. “I’ll look into it and see that it’s taken care of.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said, wishing the solution were that easy. But knowing Derian at least wanted to try to sort things out gave her a glimmer of hope. Not time to panic—not yet.

  “You’re important, Emily,” Derian said quietly, her voice filled with conviction, “to the business, and to me.”

  “I don’t know why,” Emily said, “but I appreciate your help.”

  Derian waved a hand impatiently. “As far as the business goes, I’m only doing what makes sense. And personally, well, it makes me feel good to help you out if I can.”

  “I wish I could return the favor.”

  “Oh, you can. I just took a look at Henrietta’s calendar. It’s terrifying.”

  Emily laughed, the tension draining from her chest. Derian had a way of making the most troubling situations seem surmountable. Derian hid her strength and resolve beneath a layer of nonchalance, but it only took being around her for a few moments, watching her, listening to her, to realize she was a woman who did what needed to be done. “I’m sure Vonnie can help you sort your way through things.”

  Derian nodded. “I think she’s already taken care of a great many things, but there are meetings she said I’d need to take and a big conference in a few days—the BEA?”

  “Of course,” Emily said. “It’s the biggest industry book event of the year. We have appointments already scheduled with authors and publishers on the foreign rights schedule, and a booth that Ron and several of the others will staff. Henrietta and I usually cover the rights appointments.”

  “So you’ll have to hold my hand through that.” Derian grinned. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  “I could probably handle the appointments with Bill or one of the others.”

  Derian shook her head. “I need to actually be involved in the running of the agency. It’s the only way I’m going to keep Martin and Donatella from moving back into Henrietta’s office. They know I don’t know a damn thing about the nuts and bolts, and they’re going to be looking for any excuse to force the board to push through a reorganization while Henrietta is absent. We can’t let that happen.”

  “No,” Emily said, “we can’t.”

  A part of her felt selfish, knowing she would probably be one of the first staff members to be ousted if there was a reorganization, but more was at stake than just her position or even the security her job afforded Pam. The agency itself was at risk, and she would do anything to protect it. She believed in what they did, and believed that Winfield’s century-long contributions to the arts should not be only preserved, but continued. “I’ll be more than happy to assist you.”

  “I’m afraid it might be a little more than assistance, but I’ll try not to work you too hard.” Derian winced. “I’m going to need a pretty intensive course in how things run around here.”

  “Whatever you need,” Emily said.

  Whatever you need. Derian needed things she hadn’t even realized she wanted until now. She wanted to prove to her father that she was capable, a word he had always used to remind her she was less than what he wanted in a child, less than the sycophants who followed him around, less than anyone. She wanted to take care of Henrietta, and a big part of that was taking care of the agency and securing Emily’s future there. She wanted Emily to look at her as she had a few minutes ago when she’d first walked in—with a flush of pleasure and a quick flash of desire. Everything she wanted was connected, and at the heart of it all was Emily.

  “How about we meet after lunch and go over the calendar, so I can get some idea what I’ll be in for.”

  “Two o’clock?”

  “That sounds fine.” Derian rose. “I think I might actually get to like this job.”

  As she headed back toward her office, she heard Emily’s soft laughter. The sound made her smile.

  *

  “You’re really serious about this?” Aud said as the waiter at the Old Homestead slid steaks onto the table and misted away as if he’d been incorporeal.

  “Of course.”

  “Dere,” Aud said with a mixture of affection and exasperation, “despite the fact that Martin thinks of the agency as Henrietta’s pet hobby, it’s a multimillion-dollar business. It’s not something you can just pick up in a day or two.”

  Derian cut into her filet and sipped her Scarecrow cabernet. “You honestly think I don’t know that?”

  “I know you enjoy irritating your father.”

  Derian smiled. “Am I? Good.”

  “Honestly, Dere. Are you still seventeen?”

  “Is that a nice way of saying I’m being juvenile and irresponsible?”

  “No.” Aud sighed. “I may be one of the few people who knows you’re neither of those things. But what are you really doing?”

  “Martin is taking advantage of Henrietta’s illness.” Derian kept her rage on a tight leash. Aud wasn’t the enemy, but it was hard to know she was in Martin’s camp all the same. “Don’t you find that just a little bit reprehensible? Don’t you find it just a little bit hard to continue carrying the standard for him, when he’s
such a coldhearted bastard?”

  “I’m not carrying his standard,” Aud said, but she’d flushed and, for just an instant, had looked away.

  “Then what?”

  “My father has cancer,” she said quietly.

  Derian put down her silverware and took Aud’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “How could I? You’re never here.”

  “I’m sorry.” Derian accepted the blame. Now wasn’t the time to argue their long, complicated relationship. Now was the time to draw on the love they’d always shared. “When did you find out?”

  “He was first diagnosed with colon cancer seven years ago.”

  “You didn’t tell me even then?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t. No one knew. He didn’t want people to look at him and see a weak man.” Aud’s eyes clouded and she hesitated, blinking. “As if he was ever that.”

  Derian pulled out the folded linen handkerchief in her pocket and handed it to her. She remembered doing the same for Emily. “Does Martin know?”

  “He’s one of the few. He’s been decent about it, but I’m not sure what will happen now.”

  “There’s a recurrence?”

  “Yes, and it’s fairly widespread. There’s treatment,” Aud said with false brightness, “and of course we’re all certain he’s going to beat it back this time as well, but—”

  “You don’t have to explain. Of course you’ll be there in any way he needs you.” She squeezed Aud’s hand. “I’m really sorry. If you need anything, if George needs anything, I’m here.”

  “Are you, Dere?” Aud smiled sadly. “You’re not, really, you know. Sometimes a person needs more than a voice on the phone or a text.”

  “I’m here now,” Derian said, and for the first time, she realized she meant it. Her responsibilities no longer felt like obligations heaped on her shoulders, forcing her to be a person she didn’t want to be. She was becoming the person she wanted to be on her own terms. “I plan to stay at the agency as long as I can, because the longer Henrietta takes to recover, the better it will be for her long-term. And if you need me, or your father does, I’ll be here after that.”