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Gardner shook his head. “Blood is hard to get out of wool. Messy, you know. Is Maggie going to be upset?”
“I think it’s likely.”
“She didn’t want everyone to know about you two?”
“Probably not. Considering she broke it off last night.”
Gardner blinked but wisely stayed silent.
“Wait here for her. Bring her up to the office when she gets here. But don’t show her those damn pictures if she doesn’t say anything. I should tell her myself.”
“You better hope that Hana Tuckerson or Shelly Finch haven’t seen them, then.”
“Find out where the pictures came from,” Alex ordered.
“I’ve got the media people searching. But it could just be paparazzi. You’ve been in the news a lot with the deal and the Saints. Maybe someone lucked out.”
“Yeah, and maybe not.”
“You thinking Sutter?’”
“I’m thinking that whoever did this is a scum-sucking weasel, and I’d say that Sutter fits that bill quite nicely. I’ll see you upstairs.”
He tried to calm down as he waited for the elevator to creak its way up to his floor—he didn’t care about the damned budget; he was going to tell Mal that the elevator had to be replaced as soon as possible—and then stalked down to his office. It was early enough that most of the staff weren’t at their desks yet. But Shonda was ensconced behind hers and she gave him a narrowed-eye glare as he passed her.
Crap. Apparently she knew. Which meant the news would spread fast throughout the building.
Maggie had better arrive fast so they could come up with a plan on how to deal with this.
Shit.
He’d been worried about seeing her today, hoping like hell he could hold on to his sanity and not repeat last night’s act of desperation, but he hadn’t imagined that he’d be outed just as she dumped him.
The door to his office was open, and he could hear Lucas and Mal talking inside. No point in putting things off. He strode in and pulled the door shut.
“Don’t start,” he snapped as both his friends turned to look at him.
“You had to go and sleep with her,” Mal said, ignoring him.
“Have you lost your mind?” Lucas followed, displeasure clear in his eyes.
“No. And this isn’t the eighteen hundreds. People are allowed to sleep together.” Alex dropped into his desk chair and hit the button to turn his computer screen on.
“Not when you’re trying to buy a goddamn baseball team. Not when it looks like you’re screwing baseball’s favorite daughter.”
“She’s a grown woman.”
“She’s Saint fucking Maggie,” Mal said.
“I like that,” Maggie said from the doorway. “Has a certain ring to it.”
“FUCK,” Alex said, and dropped his head onto the desk with a thump that vibrated through him but didn’t make him feel even the slightest bit better.
“Sorry, Maggie,” Mal said. “I didn’t?—”
“It’s fine.” Maggie said. Alex lifted his head. She looked pale, he thought. Pale but beautiful. She was dressed in a very proper suit, with a shirt with one of those high collars that circled her neck. A red slash of lipstick and her hair piled up.
Like a very hot librarian.
