Rebound (Boomerang #2)(74)
“There has to be something we can do,” I insist.
“If there is,” she says, “we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
Chapter 42
Adam
The office is quiet as a church as I hit send on an email to Brooks, locking in the screenwriter for our first feature, and sit back. I wait, but I don’t feel the stir of excitement I’d always imagined this moment would bring.
Blackwood Films is happening.
I just took another huge step forward in realizing my dream.
Of owning forty-nine percent of a film studio.
I shake my head at myself and glance at the empty hallway outside my office. I let everyone go at noon today, the Friday before New Year’s Eve, but now I wish someone were here. Maybe this would feel better.
As I shut down my computer and pack up to leave, I can’t help but think about the past month. I spent December trying to find a way to keep my company mine, but Graham was right. There was no way. He had me cornered. If I refused his offer, he’d have broken the Chloe news to the press. And even if I’d stepped up and told the truth, admitted it wasn’t me who drove that night, I know how the media works.
Tabloids. Newspapers. Investors and business analysts. They see scandals from ten thousand feet up. The details don’t matter. If you’re anywhere close, there’s stink on you.
A young, reckless CEO who killed his wife in a drunk-driving accident is just the kind of scandal that can sink a company—even a healthy one. I couldn’t get rid of Graham without exposing myself and my company to a huge amount of bad press so I had to accept his offer.
As soon as the lawyers organize the contracts, Graham and I will be business partners.
It’ll feel like signing a deal with the devil, I’m sure, but I’m trying to keep Grey’s words in my mind. You’ve got to let the bad shit happen sometimes.
No matter how I look at it, though, locking into a relationship with the guy who’s blackmailing me seems like the kind of bad shit I shouldn’t let happen.
Grey’s advice has helped in other arenas, though. I’ve talked to both Chloe’s parents and mine and told them the truth about that night, and while it wasn’t easy, it was easier than I thought it would be.
Christmas, too. The four-year anniversary of the night I lost her.
Grey cooked lasagna and Brooks came over. It was a decent night. The best Christmas I’ve had in four years. Granted, the look on Grey’s face when he unwrapped the karaoke machine I bought him played a big part in that.
I’ve let go of the lie I’d been keeping for Chloe—which should’ve made me feel incredible—but Graham nailed me to a wall at pretty much the same time. With everything with Alison, it’s been a better-but-worse kind of feeling.
As I lock my office, I stop and stare at the keys in my hand, fighting off the feeling for this place. There’s nothing I can do.
Another week or so and it’ll be Graham’s too.
Rhett catches me as I’m getting in the elevator.
“Hey,” he says, darting inside as the doors close.
“I didn’t realize you were still here, Rhett.”
“Just wrapping up some last-minute stuff. I saw that you were here and had a question—about the party tomorrow at the Quicks?”
Graham decided to throw the company’s holiday office party at his home. As a gesture of goodwill was how he put it on the phone. The night’s on me.
But it feels more like he’s making a statement. That statement being your kingdom is now in my full control.
“What about it?” I say.
Rhett’s smile is lopsided. “We were all just wondering if you want us to meet at your house first, so we could go over together? You’re right down the street, right? We won’t cause you any work. We just thought it’d be cool if we met at your place and went together.”
“Who’s we?”
“Well . . . everyone.”
“The whole company.”
Rhett lifts one shoulder, to match his crooked smile. “Yeah.”
The elevator opens and we step out of the elevator into the garage. “Sure, Rhett,” I say, smiling. “I’ll see you then.”
The drive home to Malibu is all Alison, just like it’s been for the past month.
It’s Ali as Catwoman. Ali in her scuba gear, puffing her cheeks out like a grouper. Ali in snow gear. Ali in the stables, looking crushed as I yelled at her.
I’m totally zoned out on the drive. I don’t even realize I’m pulling up to her house until I’m there, idling in front of the Quicks’ wrought-iron gate.
I think about punching in the code, driving in, but Graham lives here and this isn’t about him. What I have to say is only for her, so I text her instead.
Adam: I’m out front. Can we talk?
I stare at the phone, not sure what happens next. Maybe she tells me to f*ck off?
I know I’m going to see her tomorrow at the party—and maybe that’s why I’m here now—because seeing her and not being able to talk to her . . . that’s going to kill me. I need to talk to her, and I don’t want to do it tomorrow in front of other people.
A full minute passes. I’m just accepting the fact that she’s not going to respond to my text when the gate opens and she comes running out, a flash of wavy blond hair and a flowing red dress.