“I’m sorry. That might not be true.”
“It probably is,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t like the idea of my employees thinking that way, but I can’t deny they probably do.”
“It’s the nature of the game,” I say. “If it helps, I’ve spoken to a ton of your employees over the past few weeks, and not a single one has had anything negative to say about you or the executive team.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That might just prove how scared they are to talk.”
“Do you genuinely believe that?”
“No,” he says, looking at me. “And you have nothing to worry about with St. Clair, or your job for that matter.”
“Well, the pitch I’m preparing for your company is a pretty big one for me,” I confess. “For my career, too, if we were to nail it.”
His face is serious. “So I’ve gathered.”
“That’s why I can’t resist picking your brain whenever I get the chance to.”
“It’s yours to pick,” he says.
“Until midnight, at least?”
“Until then,” he agrees, lips curving. “But I suspect I’ll—”
“Isaac.” There’s a shape at our side, and then Anthony comes into focus. His eyes are intense on his brother. “She wasn’t on the guest list, but she’s here regardless.”
“Who?”
“Cordelia. Summer just saw her come in with her parents.”
Isaac doesn’t look any less composed at this news, his face set in the usual lines of competence and command. “I see.”
“Her parents were invited, at our parents’ request.”
“Naturally,” Isaac says. “They’ll be the ones to spend time with the Jacobs tonight, too.”
“Cordelia must have come with them, but honestly, I have no problem telling her to fuck off,” Anthony says.
Isaac huffs out a half laugh. “And ruin the hard work this party is doing to change your recluse reputation? Absolutely not.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know you don’t,” Isaac says and puts a hand on his brother’s arm. “But I do.”
“Fine.” Anthony looks over his shoulder. “This is when I wish I could see clearly at a distance.”
The brothers exchange a few more heated sentences, and then Anthony disappears, weaving his way through the crowd. For the first time I notice that one of the dogs is glued to his side. Must be the one who passed the exam.
“So,” I say carefully. “Would it be too intrusive of me to ask?”
Isaac’s eyes roam the crowd, almost like he’s trying to spot the mystery woman. But then, he takes my hand and pulls me into the comfort of the pool house. We’re in full view of the crowd, but the music is quieter here, the sound of a dozen conversations dampened.
“She’s someone from my past,” he says.
“An ex?”
“Yes.” He looks down at my empty champagne glass and, almost like his chivalry is on autopilot, takes it from me. He sets it and mine down on the empty bar. “We were engaged, years ago.”
My eyes widen. “You were engaged?”