Hard Rules

“The food has arrived,” Lori announces, saving me once again as she sets our plates in front of us. “Can I get either of you anything else?”

“Nothing for me,” I reply, and thankfully Maggie and Lori chat for a moment, giving me time to plot my change of subject.

“Where were we?” Maggie asks, giving me her full attention again and reaching for a fork.

Nowhere I want to go again, I think, and quickly say, “I wanted to ask about Mr. Brandon. You mentioned he did well today when you first got to the office. Does that mean he’ll be in tomorrow? There are a lot of people asking about him.”

“I’m certain he will. Staying home today was a precaution to ensure he knew he’d tolerate treatment well.”

“That’s great news,” I say, taking a bite and despite this awkward meeting, the flavors explode in my mouth. “Oh man. I forgot how good this is.”

She ignores my raves, her keen stare thoughtful, if not calculating. “You’re close to my husband. You will see and hear things.”

“If this is where you offer me money again, it won’t work.”

“This is how I get to know the person sitting outside his door.”

“Do you do this with all his many assistants?”

“No. Because they didn’t stand up to him and earn his respect. You have.”

I’m not surprised I have his respect after our recent confrontations, but rather the fact that he’s talked to her about me. “I’ve worked with men like him before. Retreating rarely works.”

“You are correct, but even those who understand that premise tend to wilt under my husband’s wrath.”

“He’s a hard man,” I say. “But I assume that’s part of why he’s a success.”

Something, bitterness perhaps, flits in her eyes and she stabs at a ravioli. “Tell me about yourself. You went to school in L.A., correct?”

“I guess you’ve been talking to Human Resources.”

“I take that as a yes,” she replies. “And your parents were attorneys?”

I reach for my water to help choke down the lies I clearly can’t avoid. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you go to law school?”

“Life happened,” I say, quickly stuffing food into my mouth to shut myself up.

“Your parents died in a small plane crash.”

My throat goes dry and I reach for my water. “Yes,” I lie, though I’ve told the truth to Shane. I take a drink and set my glass down. “I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that to Human Resources if I didn’t want it repeated.”

“Nonsense,” she says. “It’s the little pieces of our past that bring us to the present.”

“Indeed,” I say, and she can’t know just how profound those words are at this moment.

She pushes her plate aside. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”

So much for the dodge and weave strategy. “All right,” I say, scooting my plate away as well.

“You’re in a unique position that will put you in the middle of a family war and you will become a casualty if you allow it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“When I tried to buy you, it was with the intent of making it clear that you’re loyal to me.”

“If you did that, no one would have trusted me, to feed me the information you want.”

She waves that off. “I get information on my own. I wanted them to believe you were no longer a target for their use.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Brandon men are motivated by power and money, and they will do whatever necessary to win those things. And at present, Shane and Derek are battling for control of the company, both in need of their father’s vote with the board to claim the role of CEO. And, quite frankly, my husband enjoys watching them fight it out.”

It’s nothing Shane hasn’t told me, but still incredulous to hear. “That’s wrong on all kinds of levels.”

“Honey, you can’t know what it’s like as a mother to watch the divide between my sons broaden, and at the hand of their father no less.” Her voice cracks and suddenly, I think she might really be sincere about trying to help me. “All I can do is keep the playing field safe and even and protect those in the war path, which includes you. In your role, both of my sons will most certainly see you as someone who can access critical information they might wish to possess.”

Considering she knows about Shane and me, she’s clearly inferring he’s using me, and despite absolutely knowing better, there’s a stupid hot spot in my chest. “The bottom line here,” she says, continuing, “is that both of my sons will try to manipulate you and they will both have one agenda. Winning. You are inconsequential. Don’t let them make you inconsequential.”

Inconsequential. That word rips through me and hits raw nerves I didn’t realize were exposed, and have absolutely nothing to do with her, Shane, or my job. “You look stunned, honey,” she says, giving me a sharp eye. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking? Nothing really. I’m still just digesting it all.”

She doesn’t look pleased, as if she’s expected some reaction I haven’t given her, and thankfully her cell phone rings, giving me a few moments to compose my thoughts. I watch her grab her purse and remove her phone, and glance at a text. A nagging sense of her wanting me to lash out at Shane digs in and takes hold. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">