“MS. MARICRUZ?”
Fabiana wiped her fingers on her napkin and slapped Warwicke’s hand as he tried to steal one of her chips. “Yes?”
“This is Ben Frieze, Bradley Vespard’s personal assistant.”
She snapped her fingers as a minor skirmish erupted across the room over the pickle jar. All eyes turned to her. “Yes, Mr. Frieze.”
“Mr. Vespard wanted me to contact you and make sure you’ll still be coming in tomorrow to begin your promotional efforts.”
Remembering belatedly that she was supposed to be in mourning, Fabiana ruthlessly cut the smile from her voice as Heathcliffe stuck a pickle in Clovis’ ear and then ran, laughing quietly.
She put her hand over her cell phone and glared at them.
Heathcliffe mouthed, “Sorry!” but made sure he stayed far away from Clovis, who was armed with a mustar
