One Bossy Offer (123)

I mean it, too.

There’s only one person with zero conscience in this shit show.

“But it’s disgusting how she tried to manipulate us. I told Jillian we couldn’t be scared. We just have to come forward together,” Ava said.

“You’re both very brave for stepping up. This whole thing is about getting even, bad blood, and it’s damned deplorable she’s dragged others into it. I give you my word, this won’t hurt your daughter.”

“You’re a good man, and so is Royal. After everything else... it’s a relief to know it. I don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you for now, but if I can do anything else to help you clear this up, please let me know. This is my fault.”

“The buck stops with Simone, but thank you again for being brave.” I end the call.

The fog around my brain should be gone now, but it’s not.

You never expect a crisis to just end like a raging storm passing by.

Except, it hasn’t. Not until I know with absolute certainty that Simone Niehaus will pay for the fuckery she started.

Now, I have the tools to make her.

I don’t feel better, though. Not when there’s a bigger storm hovering over me, still raining down hell.

This can’t truly end until I’ve made things right with Jenn.

My pain broke that beautiful creature and I watched her stumble away from me wounded.

I didn’t try hard enough to stop her.

After all my mistakes, she still went and proved my father’s innocence.

Goddamn.

I have to make things right with her more than I need to crucify Simone.

Even if I have no idea where to start.

I just know I’m not losing my angel, my star—if she can ever find it in her to give the bumbling ass who rolled over her heart a second chance.

Louise comes into my office then, her shoulders squared. “I’m just here to remind you about your three o’clock meeting with HeronComm.”

“Cancel it,” I say immediately.

Her brows go up. “Should I give a reason?”

“I don’t care. Mag Heron knows the mess I’m in, and he’ll understand. His media buys can wait.”

She nods and starts to duck out the door.

“Wait,” I call.

“Yes, sir?”

“Any word from Miss Landers recently?”

She stares at me. “Not since the day she crashed your meeting with—well, I won’t say her name. It’s like inviting more of a curse around here.”

I chuckle, and it seems to brighten her face.

“Has anyone else heard from her, Louise?”

“Not that I know of, but if I can be frank... I can tell you, if I went through what happened after she crashed the meeting, we wouldn’t talk unless he called me. Preferably in person. So, if you’re waiting on a phone call, Mr. Cromwell, you might be waiting a long, long time.”

She has a point.

I’ll find a way to settle this in person, but first, I have one meeting I need to take.





“I still think this is a bad idea, Mr. Cromwell. If you go any farther, you’ll be out of sight,” Truman says into my Bluetooth headset.

“Understood.” I sit down on a park bench and wait.

Every breath I take feels like acid.

“If you’re certain you’re moving forward, good luck,” he tells me. “And remember, nothing provocative.”

“I’m pissed, Truman, not crazy. It’s time to settle score. I’m in control,” I bite off, forcing my face into a mask of cold neutrality.

He doesn’t say another word as I wait.

Every second creeps by like my whole world turning to tar, slow and black and choking.

I watch a few pigeons on the ground circling a tree, posturing for scraps. One bird comes across a chunk of bread crust and flaps its wings, puffing up, but his rival is quicker.

The other swoops in, snatches the bread, and takes off, leaving the losing bird seething with shrill squeaks.

Then I hear those heels.

Just a single stiletto click-clacking on the pavement at first.

My head snaps up from the pigeons. I get a good, long look at greed personified into a leggy woman who only moves in power strides.

Simone strides up in a black suit and matching designer stiletto heels, a cryptic smile pulling at her face as she tries to stare me down.

My eyes never flinch.

I watch her the whole way over as her feet sink into the wet grass. She looks down and wrinkles her nose before she yanks one muddy spiked shoe out of the ground at a time.

“Did we have to meet here of all places, Miles? It’s been raining for days.”

“I know.”

Her face sours.

“If you didn’t have to dress like a vampire bat everywhere you go, it wouldn’t be a problem,” I say.

She throws her head back with a shrill, grating laugh.

“He still has a sense of humor! I love it.” She exhales and looks at me again with frosted eyes. “I suppose that’s why you wanted to meet outside in the elements at a giant dog toilet. I’m glad you came to your senses, though.” She looks around and waves a hand at the great outdoors. “Even if it is a dog park. Your girlfriend would be proud of you, I imagine—she’s turned you into a dog person, hasn’t she?”