Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
I’m clenching and unclenching my fists but it’s not helping.
She smiles at the barista as he makes her coffee, and I want to punch him just for seeing that smile. Every smile belongs to me from now on.
When he smiles back, it’s all I can do to clutch the edge of the table like it’s a fucking anchor.
“Shall we start?” Davis murmurs from beside me. “I think everyone’s here.”
I growl. “Not everyone is seated yet.”
“It’s your call, brother, but I don’t see why Lennie had to be here. This is a company issue.”
“And she’s a part of this company.”
“I get that, but—”
“Just let her get her fucking coffee. Then we’ll…”
I trail off as I watch the barista turn while she’s distracted by something out of the window. And I don’t miss the way his eyes glance up and down her body.
Fucking disrespectful little shit.
I’m already on the move when his fingers glance hers. Oh, fuck, yeah, he’s making out it was an accident as she looks back and takes the cup from his hand, but that was no fucking accident. The room has gone silent around me as I storm across, though whether it’s really silent or it’s just that the pounding of my own heartbeat is so loud in my temples that I’m deafened I’m not sure.
He doesn’t even see me coming. Not until it’s too late.
His eyes go wide as I wrap my fingers in his collar. I don’t say a thing. I just lift him off the floor, sending him crashing back into the coffee machine as I press him against the wall. His arms are raised, his head shaking as he tells me he didn’t mean it.
Which means he knows what he did.
The little shit. What is he? Nineteen? I should tear each of those fingers off that touched her perfect skin.
“Cade, man, calm the fuck down.” Davis’s hand is on my arm, pulling it down, trying to release my fingers from the coffee boy.
I shake my head. “He’s fucking fired.” I glare at him. “You hear me? Get your things and get out.”
He nods wordlessly, trying not to look me in the eye. But if his gaze falls on her again…
“Okay, I think he gets the idea. He’s gone. Let him go now, and let’s start the meeting, yeah?”
I glance back, and see Lennie staring at me with tears in her eyes. And that’s the only thing that stops me going further.
With a grunt of disgust, I drop the barista and turn away, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as I lead her to the table. She has her coffee now, the meeting can begin.
Davis sits on the other side of Lennie, which I appreciate. I know the other agents are all looking at her when they don’t think I notice. Well, let them look. I have nothing to hide.
“Start the video,” I say to Davis, and a click later there it is.
This footage, shot by someone at the party, was on every news channel in the country this morning, and most of those around the world. It’s out of context, but it doesn’t look good. I feel Lennie starting to tap her foot beneath the desk as the footage shows me pummelling Ryan Nolan. Blood spurting from his nose.
No more than he deserved.
I wrap my fingers into Lennie’s as she starts to tap the underside of the table, pulling her hand into my lap. Which is a fucking mistake because the moment it’s there my cock is straining to get at her, straining to slide between her fingers and rub itself to completion. And even I know that’s not a good idea in the middle of a fucking containment meeting.
“What’s the legal situation?” I ask as the video ends, glancing over at the company lawyer.
I pay him enough that whatever this is should be over before it begins, but I also know I have to listen to his bullshit if he wants to tell me how stupid I’ve been. I look him up and down in his expensive suit and slicked back hair, and wonder if he’s trying to emulate me.
He draws a deep breath, then clears his throat before he begins. “No charges have been filed. Yet. If they are—”
“If they are we’ll deal with them then,” Davis cuts him off, and I nod his way.
He always did have my back.
“The biggest problem is what he’s saying.” Alisha Taylor draws my attention. She’s nearly sixty, but what she doesn’t know about PR can be written on the back of a postage stamp. “Do we have the footage, Davis, sir?”
Davis nods, clicks a couple of buttons on his laptop then points us all to look at the video screen. An interviewer sits opposite Ryan, looking sympathetic as he talks about what happened.
Shit. I have to admit he looks good in an interview. Everyone here knows I suck at interviews, which is why they didn’t suggest I get ahead of it.