Dirty Rogue: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(57)

Finally, Walker’s secretary—who is constantly on the phone—waves me in with a smile.

“Thanks, Marjorie,” I mouth, and go in through Walker’s open door.

He turns away from his computer when he hears me enter. “Quinn,” he says with a broad grin. “Adam said you were on your way. What can I do for you?”

I sit down in one of the two chairs across from Walker’s desk and cross my legs, making sure my posture is straight and confident. “You know how much I love it here at HRM, don’t you?”

A flicker of confusion crosses his face, but his smile doesn’t waver. “You’re doing quite the job with the Pierce account,” Walker laughs. “If you hated it here, there’s no way you’d put in that kind of effort.”

“The thing is—working on the Pierce account has really opened my eyes. I don’t want to leave HRM, I just want to go…bigger.” I raise my hands in front of me, giving Walker an approximation of the size of my dreams. I let my smile extend all the way to my eyes.

He cocks his head and considers me. “What do you mean by bigger? Are you requesting a transfer? There’s only one office that…” His mouth drops open. “Damn, you’re an ambitious one. Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice strong and enthusiastic. “London.”





Chapter 46

Christian





Standing in the lobby of Pierce Industries on Friday morning with a black portfolio in my hand, it’s hard to believe that my life has come to this.

Frank, my lawyer, stands at my side.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says for the hundredth time. “We can begin private negotiations on this issue without letting the world know through a press conference. The news will break eventually. It doesn’t have to happen today. As your lawyer, I have to advise you that this—”

“I know,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “I know, Frank, but this is what I have to do. The damn thing starts in five minutes. Are you really going to stand here trying to talk me out of it until the last second?”

He shakes his head, then pats my shoulder. “I had to try one more time.”

“Glad it was the last one.”

The press is gathering on the sidewalk. Two different networks have cameras here, and I see reporters from three print outlets, plus the usual cadre of bloggers who show up whenever someone from a multinational holds a press conference.

Good, I think. She can’t miss this.

In fact, I’m going to make sure she doesn’t miss this.

She can’t miss this, because from what I understand, this is my last chance.

The text from Carolyn came in late Wednesday night.

You up?

Always :)

Ha.

What do you need?

Chris, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Q. None of my business. Don’t need to know the details on your end unless you want to tell me. But she told me this evening that she started talking to HRM about a transfer to London. If everything works out, she’ll be gone in a matter of weeks.

Thanks for letting me know, my friend.

Welcome.

I haven’t talked to Carolyn in person since she got busy with her boutique and I stopped frequenting the Swan quite as much, so I don’t know how pissed she is at me for fooling around with her roommate’s heart. Obviously she’s not too pissed, otherwise she wouldn’t have given me a heads up, but it’s probably time to have a conversation with her once this news breaks.

I called my lawyer within five minutes of receiving her message and told him to move everything up to the earliest possible date. If I’m going to do this, it has to be now.

Three minutes to go. This news is going to do more than break.

It’s going to explode.

Two minutes. I pull my phone out of my pocket and swipe to unlock the screen. Quinn’s office number is the first contact on my list.

Adam takes the call.

“Quinn Campbell’s office.”

“This is Christian Pierce. Is Ms. Campbell available to speak with me?”

“Her line is clear. Hold one moment, please.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a muted silence as Adam transfers the call, and then a click as Quinn picks up her handset.

“Quinn Campbell.”

Her voices makes my heart skip a beat. Am I imagining the hitch I heard in the breath she took right after she answered?

“Pull up a window on your computer and start streaming ABC7.” Their camera guy is fifteen feet away from me right now, fiddling with the tech at his shoulder. The anchor is a tall redhead in a coral jacket standing just to the right of his elbow. In another minute, they’ll be broadcasting my announcement to the entire city. Perhaps the entire world. The anchor looks down and presses a finger to her ear—listening to whatever’s coming in from the studio, probably.

“What?” Quinn asks, her voice pure worry. “Why? Did something happen?”

It hits me all at once that Quinn might be imagining some kind of terrorist situation.

“I’m holding a press conference outside the offices of Pierce Industries.”

“What?” I hear papers rustling in the background, a series of clicks. “We didn’t plan for—what are you doing?”