Even fewer knew where she lived.
Blake adjusted one cuff link.
“Tonight is important for the company.”
“I understand.”
“No, Arden, I do not think you do.” His voice became colder. “There will be photographers. I will be meeting people who expect a certain level of presentation.”
Lenette gave a soft, humorless laugh.
“Blake needs someone who knows how to speak to successful people. Not someone who spends the evening checking whether the napkins are folded properly.”
Blake’s younger sister, Corinne, leaned against the kitchen island while recording a short video for her social media page.
“Besides,” Corinne said, “he is not attending alone.”
The front door opened before Arden could respond.
Sloane Whitaker entered wearing a fitted wine-red evening gown and carrying a small designer handbag. She was Blake’s vice president of public relations.
She was also the woman who called him late at night, traveled with him to private conferences, and sent messages that made him turn his phone facedown whenever Arden entered the room.
