The Color of Love

Chapter Twenty-seven

Derian landed in Rio in the late afternoon. She hadn’t slept the night before or on the plane, and the buzz of being beyond tired ran through her. She wasn’t looking forward to navigating another unfamiliar place—but then it looked like she wouldn’t have to. An Asian woman bearing a sign with her name on it waited near baggage claim. She didn’t look like anyone from the hotel or travel agency, unless their reps were wearing Prada and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds these days.

Derian held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Derian Winfield.”

The woman, somewhere in the range of thirty, extended a manicured hand. “I’m Mingzhu Tan, from Beijing Aerotech. Please call me Ming.”

“Ah,” Derian said, putting the pieces together. She’d met with the tech’s CEO six months before when the rising tycoon first showed interest in investing in American sports teams. “And how is Mr. Yee?”

“Very well, thank you. We’re so happy to have this opportunity to meet with you.”

“As am I,” Derian said automatically. She’d danced this dance dozens of times in the past and wondered if she hadn’t inherited far more of Martin’s business shrewdness than she wanted to admit. Right now, the last thing she wanted to be thinking about was Martin. Every time she thought about him, she heard Emily’s subtle accusation that she was motivated by her need to best him. She shook off the memory. “I appreciate you meeting me.”

Ming smiled slowly. “Of course, we are pleased to offer you any courtesy we can.”

Derian had a feeling those courtesies might extend far beyond a ride from the airport, and felt not the slightest twinge of interest. What she wanted was a long shower, a longer drink, and something, anything, to occupy her mind. A liaison with a strange woman, however, was not on that list.

She collected her luggage and carried it out to the waiting car. The trip to the hotel was mercifully short and she didn’t have to do more than make casual passing conversation with Ming. When the limo pulled up in front of the Copa, she shook Ming’s hand and bowed. “You were very gracious to take the time to meet me.”

“We are staying here as well,” Ming said, again with a smile that could be an invitation but stopped short of being insistent. If she was disappointed that Derian didn’t request to meet at another time, she didn’t show it. “My suite is 407. Please ring me if I may be of service.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, and please give my regards to Mr. Yee.”

Derian picked up her key from the express check-in wall and headed directly upstairs. The hotel bar would undoubtedly be filled with people she wasn’t in the mood to talk to just yet. Her suite was another large, fully appointed trio of rooms with the requisite balcony, this one overlooking the Copa beach. A cool ocean breeze cut the shimmering heat enough to make sitting outside look inviting. Still jittery, like a car with the idle revving too high, Derian took a shower and ordered up a bottle of champagne. In briefs and a short-sleeved shirt, she settled on a lounger on the balcony and let the alcohol slowly dull her nerves. Watching couples amble across the white glittering sand, she glanced at the empty recliner beside her. Loneliness was not a sensation she generally dwelled upon, but she couldn’t help wishing Emily was there with her. An evening spent over a quiet dinner and a late-night stroll on a moonlit beach, Emily’s hand in hers and Emily’s warm laughter washing over her, struck her as more satisfying than anything she’d ever done. She’d never wanted that with any other woman, and she wouldn’t be finding it anywhere she went tonight.

Derian dropped her head back and closed her eyes.

When she woke, the last red-gold rays of a brilliant sunset slanted across the ocean and draped her body in fiery shadows. She had to be at the sponsor’s reception in half an hour. She took another shower and, after the cold water drove the alcohol fumes from her brain, dressed and joined the familiar crowd in the ballroom on the mezzanine. The room was exactly like a hundred others she’d been in—huge gleaming chandeliers, tall columns flanking both sides, ornately painted ceilings, and an army of waiters with silver trays and a thousand flutes of champagne. Plus the bars discreetly spaced at intervals around the perimeter.

Derian took a glass of champagne she wasn’t interested in drinking and made a mental note of the time. An hour was about all she could take. Ming nodded to her from across the room. Derian made the rounds, shook all the right hands, and made her business manager happy by wooing potential new partners. As soon as she could, she slipped away and ordered a car to take her to a hotel in a less popular part of the city. Gambling was illegal in Brazil, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. You just needed to know where. She settled at the baccarat table and played all night.

When she returned to the Copa at noon the next day and finally fell asleep, she still couldn’t leave Emily behind. Her dreams were a dark chaotic tangle of lost opportunity and fruitless searching for something just beyond reach.

*

“Okay, thank you, everybody.” Emily grabbed her iPad, quickly rose as the rest of the staff gathered up their things, and escaped into the hall. She’d barely reached her desk when Ron slipped in behind her and closed her office door.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a ghost,” he said in way of greeting.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“How about you’ve been hiding out here for the last week, and avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been hiding or avoiding,” Emily said, although she doubted she sounded convincing. She was terrible at lying.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s too bad,” Ron said. “Because whatever it is, I can tell you’re miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” Emily lied again. She dropped into her chair and tried to ignore her iPad and the picture she’d seen just that morning on Flipboard of Derian and a beautiful woman getting into a limo outside the Copacabana Palace. A minute passed and she straightened up. Ron was still in the same place, hands on his hips, the look on his face suggesting he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“You might as well sit down if you’re not going to leave.”

He took his customary seat and regarded her with a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes it helps to talk.”

“And sometimes there’s nothing to say.”

“It’s Derian, I already know that. You’ve been miserable since the day she left.”

“Coincidence.”

“Really, and I look like I was born under a mushroom?”

“Ron,” Emily said gently, “I don’t want to talk about Derian.”

“Fair enough, then how about talking about you? We can pretend that the other party is…Woman X.”

“Oh, and that’s going to work well.”

“All right, you don’t talk about her, and I’ll just guess.” Ron took a deep breath and tapped his chin. “Okay, you’re harboring a secret crush on Woman X, and now that she’s gone, you regret that you didn’t jump her the way I told you to.”

“This is not going to work.”

He waved a hand. “Okay, let’s try that again. You did jump her, like I told you to, but in an uncharacteristic Derian Winfield fashion—whoops, sorry—Woman X declined your offer.” He frowned and shook his head. “Really, though, I never took her for a fool, so even I don’t believe that one.”

“Ron,” Emily said in a threatening tone.

“No, I’ve got it. You did jump her, she accepted, and she was absolutely terrible in bed.”

“Derian is wonderful in bed,” Emily said, almost amused when Ron’s mouth dropped open. If she’d had any fiber of her being left that wasn’t miserable, she might have laughed too. “I don’t remember who jumped who, but believe me, there was nothing to complain about.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron said. “You don’t strike me as the one-night stand type, and I know Deri—”

“No,” Emily said, “you don’t know. No one does. Derian is nothing like her reputation.”

“You’re right, sorry. She made a really good impression with everyone while she was here. But you knew it was only temporary.”

“Oh, I did. Unfortunately, I seem to have forgotten that somewhere in the process of taking off my clothes.”

Ron laughed wryly. “I’ve been there and done that. Are you sure it’s just temporary?”

“She’s gone, isn’t she? And there was never any discussion of it being any more than that, unless you count the part where she asked me to marry her.”

Ron stared. “You’re not serious.”

“Actually, I am, and this does not go any further than here. I mean it.”

“I swear.” He crossed his heart. “Derian Winfield asked you to marry her? And you said, what, no thanks?”

“What do you think?”

“I’m missing a few steps. Like the whys and the wherefores.”

Emily sighed. Maybe if she said it all out loud she’d stop torturing herself with the endless replays. Maybe she’d convince herself she’d been right in sending Derian away. “Derian thought it would solve everyone’s problems—I’d become a permanent resident, and voilà, no more visa problems. I’d be in a position one day to ensure that Winfield’s continues with its mission, and presto, Henrietta’s legacy is preserved. All that and Derian manages to not only infuriate her father but gain the upper hand in their long-standing private battle.” She dusted her hands. “Everything taken care of all neat and tidy, as long as you don’t consider the fact that she and I would be legally bound to one another.”

“Well, you’re already having sex.”

“Are you going to sit there and tell me that’s all that matters?”

He grinned. “It’s a good start.”

“It is, I won’t argue that. But it’s not a reason to get married.”

“There are lots of reasons to get married, including the fact that you like someone, you have terrific sex, and it’s sensible. They don’t call it a contract for nothing.”

“It’s not enough for me, especially when—” Emily looked away. Especially when she wanted much more than a contract with Derian.

“Uh-oh.”

Emily smiled sadly. “Yes, uh-oh indeed.”

“Does she know?”

“Of course not.”

“Maybe you should’ve told her.”

“No. That’s not fair.”

“Honey,” Ron said gently, “love isn’t about being fair or unfair. It’s about being honest.”

“There’s nothing dishonest about keeping one-sided feelings to oneself.”

“When you see her again, you should reconsider.”

“By the time I see her, it won’t matter any longer.”

Emily’s phone rang and she grabbed it like a lifeline. Please let there be some problem she needed to take care of. She didn’t want to talk about Derian—it took all her energy not to think about her.

“I think you better come down here,” Vonnie said ominously.

“Oh no, tell me Donatella hasn’t slithered back in.”

“See for yourself.”

Emily jumped up. “I have to go.”

“This isn’t over,” Ron said.

Emily shook her head. “I’m afraid it is.”

*

“What is it?” Emily whispered as she approached Vonnie’s desk. The door to Henrietta’s office was slightly ajar and she really didn’t want to go in there and see Donatella where Derian should be sitting.

“Go on in,” Vonnie said with an air of resignation.

Emily steeled herself and pushed ahead.

Henrietta sat behind her desk, looking just as she had the last time Emily had seen her there.

“What are you doing here?” Emily blurted.

“The last time I checked, this was still my office.”

“You’re supposed to be home recovering.”

Henrietta gave one of those peremptory motions of her hand, less a wave and more an incision, cleaving air. “I promised my doctors I would not come into the office to work. There’s nothing wrong with my brain, and if I’m sitting at home I can be looking at my computer, which is probably a lot better for my overall state of health than staring at daytime television. Have you actually looked at what’s on there recently?”

Emily grinned despite herself. She was just so glad to see Henrietta with color in her face and fire in her eyes again she couldn’t be angry with her, even if she was still too thin and just a bit fragile looking and should not be there. “Television in general is not something I usually have time for.”

“Then consider yourself better off for it.” Henrietta speared her with a hard look. “How much does Derian have to do with how unhappy you look right now?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Emily said instantly. Whatever had gone so terribly wrong between her and Derian was entirely between them. “Derian was a tremendous help and the entire staff is appreciative.”

“I see,” Henrietta said, looking as if she really did see but was kind enough not to probe any further. “I want you to take a few weeks off. Go home, see your sister.”

“I can’t go now,” Emily said. “You’re not coming back to work—”

“I can handle from home whatever Vonnie and Ron can’t deal with, until you get back.” Henrietta looked at her watch. “Now that’s settled, you have a meeting with Audrey Ames in the conference room in five minutes.”

“I do?”

“She’s taking over the matter of getting your immigration status straightened out. After you meet with her, go. You shouldn’t have any trouble with reentry now.”

Emily’s heart stuttered. Of course. If her work visa was not renewed, she couldn’t leave the US. She knew of plenty of people who lived and worked in the US for years without a proper visa, but they couldn’t leave to see family overseas, not if they wanted to come back.

“All right, yes. Thank you.” Emily rose, suddenly so tired. “You’ll go home too?”

“I will. And, Emily? It’s going to be all right.”

Emily didn’t see how, as she went off to meet with Derian’s best friend.