There was a one Mississippi, two Mississippi couple of moments and just when the embrace started to veer into questionable territory, she heard Mickey drawl, “You can let go now, Mo.”
Moira snickered and said, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
A long-suffering sigh delivered, Mickey style, sounded, and then to Paige’s utter astonishment, the man’s hand, held completely flat and with no grab at all, patted Moira’s bottom three times in quick succession.
“Happy?” he grumbled.
She pushed him away with a trill of laughter, smirked, “How dare you,” and smoothed down her dress as though he’d pulled it up and taken liberties with her lady parts.
In a deadpanned voice, Mickey turned toward Edward and her and said, “Take notes, you two. She holds an ancient victory over my head and insists on this tired, old charade, which she will tell her husband was a full ass grab. He’ll call me up and threaten to rip my nuts off and then he’ll bestow some ridiculously expensive jewelry on that old tart,” he spat out with a barely concealed smile.
Moira laughed gaily and waggled her fingers in Mickey’s face.
“What the hell is that, Mo? An elf’s testicle? Jesus, woman, ostentation is thy new name.”
“Stuff a sock in it, Dimitri. You broke my heart and…”
“No! I most certainly did not.”
As much as Edward was enjoying the curious give-and-take from the two other people in the room, the real focus of his attention was on Paige. After their long years together, he’d come to expect the calm, focused, self-confident way she had about her. It was her thing. Sometimes, she was so quietly dynamic that he’d stop and marvel at her poise in the midst of a tense situation. Those qualities were what made her a top-notch assistant.
But right this very moment, even with her cool self-control on display, he sensed the storm at work inside her. She was just putting on a good show. For Mickey and Moira—but not for him. Nope. For him, she made no attempt to hide her bewilderment, and like him, in the last surreal few hours, she’d been all over the map emotionally.
Good god. He’d asked her to marry him. And fuck … he’d meant it, the asking. When the moment came, nothing had ever seemed so right. But he’d fucked up by letting the Gideon situation force his hand.
Shit.
He saw her repeatedly search the folds of her skirt; only she never produced the roll of mints he knew she reached for. Paige didn’t have a lot of nervous tells—those little habits that give a person’s inner life away. But the mints? Sometimes they were all that stood between her and a major freak-out.
Ignoring the bizarre performance his agent and Moira were putting on, he moved closer to Paige and put his arm around her waist. He’d meant the gesture to convey comfort but the minute he got close enough to inhale her scent, he was fucked.
“Edward,” she whispered, not showing any resistance to his proprietary hold. “Are we in some alternate universe? When did M become so … normal?”
His answering smile felt good on his face. “I know, right?”
They both watched silently for another minute, and then Paige turned in his hold and met his gaze. Her face appeared passive, but her eyes told a much different story.
“Is this really what you want?”
Ah, god. How could he explain?
Yeah, marrying her was exactly what he wanted. Go figure, but once clarity had entered the picture, he became too emotional to let the idea go. But he also knew that doing it this way was not fair to Paige. Instead of having some romantic lovey-dovey bride moment, she was being fast-marched to the altar in what was essentially a business move.
Edward wanted a chance to explain himself, but things were moving way too fast and they weren’t alone. Plus, though they were whispering, the two Ms across the room were staring at them intently as though they’d heard her question and had read his thoughts.
“You know what?” Moira interjected. “Why don’t we all have a seat? There are things to discuss, and now that the introductions are out of the way, I believe we should get down to business. While we trade quips, the Internet is blowing up with malicious gossip that needs to be put down. Immediately.”
Steering Paige to a chair, he held it out and waited till she was comfortably seated before pulling a chair for himself that he placed right next to hers. He noticed that her hand was trembling when she sat and tucked in the ends of her skirt.
Mickey commandeered the entire end of the rectangular table, draping his suit jacket over a nearby chair, and immediately working his phone the minute everyone was seated. Edward wondered who he was texting while they sat around and discussed not only his future, but also Paige’s part in the way they’d decided to go forward. The guy took multitasking to new heights.
As Moira launched into her spiel, he had a moment of sheer panic and feared Paige wouldn’t want any part of this insanity. He worried she might even bolt from the meeting.
“This is a small town,” the venerable woman began. “When people fuck up, the insider community closes ranks. Managing and containing the inevitable shit and blowback is essential to keep the shine on Tinseltown. No tarnish allowed.”
Mickey grunted his agreement but kept up with the speedy texting.
“I think people overlooked Joann’s … activities … because she’s generally regarded as batshit crazy and vindictive as fuck.”
“Don’t gloss over what she’s trying to pull, Mo.”
Edward took note of the anger in Mickey’s voice.
Moira turned all of her attention on Paige, who squirmed in her seat.
After giving Mickey a side-glance that screamed zip it, she softened her tone. “My dear, I know this is a lot to take on, but you’re a sensible girl. We could try to put this fire out, but believe me,” Moira snipped, “it’ll just keep coming back unless we throw a tsunami at it. And to do that, we need something that will make a fool of Joann and give the upper hand to Team Shaw.”
She paused like a stage actress who was building a scene’s momentum with just dialogue.
“Short of some unimpeachable dick pics,” she snickered, “the next best thing is a romance.”
Paige sat back and stared at the woman. Edward held his breath, wondering what she’d say.
“A marriage is out of the question,” his no-nonsense assistant bit out. “I am not chattel.”
“Oh, my dear!” Moira chortled gleefully. “How wonderful that you know the word and how to use it in a sentence.” Looking directly at him, she added, “Is Mensa mentioned on her résumé?”
Mickey thought this was hilariously funny because he stopped what he was doing and barked with laughter. “My solnyshko moya is no idiot.”
“You’re much more valuable than mere chattel, my dear,” Moira drawled, sounding impressed.
“Yes, well,” Paige sniffed with a stern frown, “I’m also not stupid about how this town works. I get the whole ‘deflect their attention with a romance thing’ but why does that have to include marriage?”
“Paige,” Edward started, “let’s just …”
“No, Edward. There’s no just.”
Moira raised an eyebrow. “Resistance? My goodness. Don’t suppose you have another, more willing assistant—do you, Gideon?”
Shit. Calling him by his professional name was Moira’s way of getting him to pay attention. Another assistant? He thought of Caro and imagined her wrapped around him like an adoring clinging vine should he ask this same scenario of her. He snorted at the notion of the inevitable Saturday Night Live sketch.
A thick haze of tension gathered and began to spread through the room. Whatever happened next was all on him.
“Let me make something clear to both of you,” he drawled.