No Stranger to Scandal - By Rachel Bailey Page 0,2

open and started to smile in an I’ve-got-nothing-to-hide way.

And froze, the smile only half-formed.

A tall man in a crisp white shirt, crimson tie and neatly pressed dark trousers filled the doorway—Hayden Black. The air shifted around her, became heavier, uneven. She’d met a lot of powerful men in her job, in her life, yet none had had the presence of this man before her, as if his energy somehow flowed out and charged the space around him. The thicker air was difficult to draw into her lungs and she had to struggle to fill them.

Frown lines formed across his forehead. Dark brown eyes stared at her from a lightly weathered face, and they didn’t seem to like what they saw. Her skin cooled. He was judging her already and the interview hadn’t even begun. All her resilience coalesced, snapping her out of whatever flight of fancy had overtaken her for those moments, and she straightened her spine. That was more than fine—she was used to people judging her based on preconceived ideas about her wealth, her lifestyle and her upbringing. An investigator for Congress was just one more to add to the list. She lifted her chin and waited.

He cleared his throat. “Ms. Royall. Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Black,” she said using the polite voice her mother had taught her to always start with when she wanted to win something. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Lucy.

He extended an arm to show her through the door. “Can I get you anything before we start?” His voice was gruff, unwelcoming.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She took a seat and put the hold-all bag on the floor beside her.

He lowered himself into the chair opposite and granted her a condescending glance. “We’ll run through some simple questions about ANS and your stepfather. If you keep your answers to the truth, we shouldn’t experience any trouble.”

A surge of heat rushed across her skin. The patronizing jerk. If she kept her answers to the truth, they shouldn’t experience any trouble? She was twenty-two, had a degree from Georgetown University and owned one-sixth of the biggest department-store chain in the country. Did he think she would accept being treated like a child?

She gave him her best guileless smile, reached for her large red bag and deposited it on the desk in front of her. Then she combined the sweet voice of her mother with the rapid-fire manner she’d learned from Graham, laying on her North Carolina accent extra thick for good measure. “You know, I think I will have a glass of water, if that’s okay. I’ve got a muffin here I’d like to eat—you don’t mind, do you?—I skipped lunch to make this meeting and I’ll think more clearly with some food in my stomach.”

He hesitated, then murmured, “Of course,” and rose to get her water.

She took a satisfied breath—she’d thrown him off balance. When he put the glass in front of her, she handed him her paper coffee cup. “And could you throw this away for me while you’re up? I didn’t want to put it in my bag in case any residual moisture leaked out, and there wasn’t a trash can in the hallway.” He took the cup, but seemed far from happy about it. She smiled at him again. “Thank you. You’d be surprised how many people refuse a simple request, but then again, you’re a criminal investigator. Maybe you wouldn’t.” She broke off a piece of muffin and popped it into her mouth.

He sat back in his chair and stared at her, hard. Seemed he’d regained his balance. “Ms. Royall—”

Swallowing, she reached into her bag and came out with a notepad. “I’m going to take notes on what we talk about. I always find it’s best if everyone remembers exactly what’s said in interviews, whatever kind they are. Helps everyone keep their answers to the truth and that way we shouldn’t run into trouble.” She broke off another piece of her muffin and held it out to him. “Raspberry muffin?”

His eyes narrowed and she wondered if she’d pushed too far. But he simply said, “No.” Albeit with a stern finality.

“It’s a very good muffin.” She slipped the piece into her mouth and reached into her bag again for a pen.

“Are you ready?” he asked in a tight voice.

She looked down at her pen and clicked it. “Just give me one more moment. I’d rather be fully prepared for an important conversation like this.” She put her bag