Emily caught his stare as she mentioned the threats. He seemed surprised, but how could that be? She would bet every cent she didn’t have on the threats originating from Sunny Studios. She’d had hate email before, but these latest were different. They were more personal. As if the person behind them knew her. She hadn’t shown anyone the latest text. She had no idea how they had gotten her cell phone number. The tweets were public, so there was little she could do about those.

Carrie had insisted on going to the police, but there wasn’t much they could do either. The tweets, although some were disgusting, weren’t bad enough to warrant a full-scale investigation. The bored police officer had told her they had probably originated outside the US anyway.

She continued her speech, her eyes constantly finding his in the sea of faces. She reddened, hoping the audience would blame her heated cheeks on the spotlights. Flustered, she coughed and returned to her speech.

“Emily, that was wonderful. The team has had loads of sign-ups. The donations will be through the roof,” Carrie gushed as Emily walked off stage.

“Fantastic. Hopefully we’ll make enough to cover the next six months’ rent. The landlord is getting antsy.”

“Things aren’t that difficult, are they?’

Emily looked at Carrie sadly. Her friend was a marketing magician, a true socialite with the ability to part any scrooge from his wallet. But when it came to math, she was clueless. She couldn’t balance a checkbook, never mind a balance sheet. Emily was always the more mathematically inclined, but even she found all the business figures confusing. She was so glad they had found Mr. Epstein. He was a master accountant and had ways of stretching budgets so tightly, it was a wonder the whole thing didn’t snap.

“Mr. Epstein is concerned.”

Carrie laughed. “He’s always worried. I bet he wakes up every morning with a frown on his face. The poor man.”

Emily smiled at the image. Mr. Epstein rarely, if ever, cracked a smile but he had a heart of gold. She was about to comment when she sensed Mr. Dunne behind her.

She half turned as he said, “Ms. Williams, that was some speech.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dunne.” She smiled sweetly. “I hope you intend to go home and shut down Sunny Studios at once and recall all the games.” She almost laughed out loud at how his eyes widened.

“That is not possible.”

“Anything is possible, Mr. Dunne. But some things are not probable. Good night.”

She moved to walk away, but he stopped her by putting a hand lightly on her arm. The electricity between them sent a bolt from her head to her toes. She stared at his arm and then looked at his face. He had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to put my hand on you. I just…well, I was hoping we could speak. Properly, I mean. In private. I only recently acquired Sunny Studios and maybe…”

She didn’t like the way he made her feel. She should be furiously arguing with this man who owned the company that made the very games she had shown tonight, yet she was inclined to believe he may not be 100% guilty. Her irritation at herself came out in her tone.

“You want me to believe that you didn’t know what you were buying? That a man who has made billions from investing in companies would buy something without knowing everything about it? I may be a woman, Mr. Dunne, but I do have a brain.”

“You indeed have a brain, Ms. Williams, but at the moment you are not utilizing it,” he responded in an amused voice. His words were enough to stop her in her tracks. “Sorry, that was a little harsh. What I meant is you appear to be letting your emotions rule your decision making. That is never a good idea.”

He smiled before he walked away, leaving her staring after him. How dare he? But then he had a point. Always fair-minded, she had to concede she had been rude. His teasing response made her admit that. If he had been just as rude, she could justify herself. She didn’t know anything about him, really, apart from some stuff Jason had read to her from the gossip pages.

She knew better than to believe everything she read in the papers. If they were true, then she was a lonely old man-hater who wanted to rule Hollywood.

Well, they did get the description partly true. She was lonely. Surrounded by all these people, most of whom wished her and the foundation well, yet she had nobody to share her life with. She had plenty of friends from college, but they were spread all over the country. She had never met the One. Her Rick.

Casablanca. That’s what she would do when she got home. Have a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc and watch her favorite movie. But first she had to wrap up this party. She plastered a smile on her face, forcing Conor Dunne’s deep blue eyes from her memory. She had a job to do, one that was vital to the success of her dream.