One Bossy Offer (121)

However visceral his anger is when he finds out the truth, he’ll come to his senses.

Just like you hope he’ll find them again with you, I think painfully.

But this can’t be about me right now.

“How would I even do that? He called me before and I hung up on him. That was before the stories, the legal filing, all the dirt flying around... No one at Cromwell-Narada is just going to put me through to the CEO now.”

I sigh because she’s right.

“Hang on.” I dart back into the room to grab my phone and hand it to Ava. “Put your number in my phone.”

She holds my gaze.

“I’ll send you Miles’ cell,” I explain. “If he doesn’t answer, text me and I’ll tell him you need to talk to him.”

“Wow, thanks. You were pretty close to him, huh?”

My heart flips over.

“Yeah. You could say that.”

Ava bites her lip and stares at the ground. “One problem.”

“What?”

“If I do this, will Michelle lose her scholarship?”

I look at Pippa, lost for words.

She just shrugs. “You have to do the right thing, Ava. But I can tell you from experience, these things usually work themselves out. Before I got married, I worked two jobs and took care of my disabled dad and little sister. Michelle is smart and crazy good at networking with people. She’ll get into NYU, and you’ll find a way to make it work, one way or another. I promise.”

“She’s worked so hard. If she loses her chance, all thanks to my stupidity, I’ll never live it down.”

Pippa and I share a sad look.

“Life isn’t fair. But if you don’t do the right thing, how can you teach your daughter to?” I ask.

“If Michelle loses her scholarship, I’ll never forgive myself,” Ava says miserably.

“If she loses it, you should never forgive Simone Niehaus. She can’t mess with people’s lives like this. You can’t let her get away with it.”

“Sue her. Press charges,” Pippa says sharply. “It doesn’t matter if you win. The publicity alone will be bad enough to force her out of Pacific-Resolute, and they’ll have every reason in the world to compensate you. And if they don’t, someone else will.”

She stops just short of thumbing her own chest and I smile.

If things fall through for Michelle, I’m pretty sure Brock and Pippa will be right there to help her.

It’s nice to be reminded why we’re besties sometimes.

Even if I’ll owe her a few more drinks later.

Ava rocks back and forth on her heels a few times before moving past us. “Thank you again, but I should go. I have some unpleasant calls to make.”

You and me both, lady.

Now, we just have to hope it isn’t too late.





26





No Missing Angel (Miles)





“You’re supposed to have a whole damn team working for me, and this is the best you come up with?” I whack the file down on my desk, clenching my phone.

Fucking hell.

I could have come up with more than this trifling tip about a mother-daughter trip to the Hoh Rainforest myself. It doesn’t help my father’s case.

“We’re still working on it, Mr. Cromwell. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Ross the PI says.

“And I wish you’d find the fire before there’s nothing left to salvage.”

“I’ll call you in two days with an update,” he promises.

“You’ll call tomorrow. You’ll also hope there’s more meat to the bones than this.” I end the call, set my phone down, and look at this pathetic excuse for a report one more time.

Is it odd?

Yes.

There are a lot of bright kids in the world.

What are the chances Simone slithers out of the woodwork to hand a scholarship to the daughter of one of the women claiming my father was a sex-crazed devil?

Slim.

But is it proof—the undeniable pants-on-fire proof—I need?

Hell no.

I’m still stuck beating my head against the wall for the thousandth time, wondering how I prove a negative.

Also, Wickes is just half the battle. We haven’t turned up a damn thing that’s suspicious with Jillian Oakes yet, the other woman.

It feels like the more PIs I pile onto my crack sleuthing team, the worse the results get. I’m nearing my wits’ fucking end.

My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number and Louise is away from screening my calls on her lunch break, but with the way things are going, I can’t afford to miss out on anything that might put a dent in this hell.

“Cromwell,” I snarl.

“Mr. Cromwell?” It’s a woman, and—is she crying?

“This is Miles. How can I help you?”

“Um—I don’t really know where to start, especially when this didn’t go well last time, but first off...” She pauses and exhales heavily. “I owe you an apology, Miles.”

That’s not something women usually say to me.

A second later, it registers, battering my brain.

“Mrs. Wickes?”

“It’s Ava, yeah, but don’t hang up!”