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“I should fucking whip you.” He stood from his desk and joined me. “Conference room. Now. Follow me.”
I chuckled but didn’t move. “You’re bullshitting me, right?” When he didn’t respond, I added, “But I just got in. I haven’t even been to my office yet—”
“You’ll go to your office after. The team needs to talk to you first.”
“Does that mean I don’t have time to grab coffee?”
“That’s precisely what it means.” He sighed. “If you weren’t my best friend, I’d fucking despise you right now. Let’s go.”
I stayed in step with Easton as we rounded the corner, past Drake’s office, mine, and then Holden’s—all empty, which told me everyone was in the conference room already. “I get the feeling I’m grounded.”
Easton laughed, but I could tell he wasn’t finding me funny. “You deserve to get fired.”
I winced. The air I sucked in was loud enough for him to hear.
“Do you know how many texts I sent you—”
“I shut off my phone.” That was partially true. There were periods when I’d powered it down and moments when I’d had it on. The latter was unfortunately the majority.
“Was your phone off when you posted a picture of the yacht on Instagram? Or how about the video of you Jet Skiing? Or the most recent one of you sitting on the couch of Hooked’s private plane during your journey home? Or are you going to tell me you hired a social media team while you were away and that wasn’t you posting, it was your publicist?”
I halted.
As soon as Easton realized I was no longer walking, he stopped and faced me.
“I get it.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans, unsure what to do with them. “I’d be pissed at me if the roles were reversed. But there’s a reason I didn’t respond and it’s not a personal one.”
Easton crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
I didn’t know if it was anger or disappointment, but something was coming off his stare and hitting my goddamn chest like the pounding of a hammer.
“If I told you how hot the chicks were and all about the incredible food I was eating and the fun I was having, the conversation would have circled back to work.” I shook my head, wishing the strands were wet and dripping from the Mediterranean Sea. “I needed a fucking break, man. I’d reached my limit. So I went off the grid, minus the posts on Instagram.”
“You’re fucking unbelievable.” His stare narrowed. “If your silence was the only thing I was pissed about, I’d be getting over this quickly, but you created a hell of a shitstorm while you were gone, and Drake and I have been cleaning up the disaster you created. Hell, Holden even flew home early from Disney to help us.”
My heart began to speed up as I processed his words. “A ... shitstorm?”
His lips turned thin as he pulled them inward and roared, “Like I said, follow me.”
I caught up to him, and within a few paces, we were heading into the conference room, where the entire executive team waited—Holden, Drake, our head of HR, our in-house counsel, and the head of finance.
All staring at me.
Their expressions aloof, but their postures stiff.
Bothered.
Ready for battle.
And as I looked at each one, I realized there was a face I didn’t recognize. She sat at the head of the table, wearing a starched olive-colored suit with red glasses, her hair so stiff, it wouldn’t move even in a windstorm.
“Grayson, meet Laura Day,” Easton said once I found an empty seat. “She’s our PR crisis manager.”
I nodded at her and said, “Since when do we employ a PR crisis manager?”
“Since this.” Holden held up a piece of paper. The words on the page were too small and too far away for me to see. “I’m sure you’ve read the article by now, so you know exactly what we’re facing.”
I took a seat, dropping my bag next to me, linking my hands on top of the table. “What article?”
