Page 169 of His Good Girl

I got to Rowe Tower before six Monday morning and found Benjamin already at his desk.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Emotional stability?”

“No.”

“Excellent. I brought enough coffee then.”

By eight, Dana had arrived with a legal pad, a black blazer, and the expression of a woman ready to remove organs alphabetically. Tom came in pale but purposeful, which was the most useful version of Tom.

At nine, Avery stepped off the elevator. She wore a dark green dress, simple and professional, her hair down around her shoulders in soft waves that made my hands ache with the memory of holding them. She looked tired.

Jules Voss stood beside her, which surprised me.

Jules was paler than I remembered from the photograph Avery had once shown me on her phone. She wore jeans, a black sweater, and no lipstick. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her chin, however, was lifted. Avery’s hand was wrapped around hers.

I crossed the floor before I had fully decided to move. Avery saw me coming and did not look away.

“Callum,” she said when I reached her.

I wanted to touch her. I did not.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“No.”

It was a better answer than fine, at least.

Jules swallowed visibly. “Mr. Rowe.”

“Jules.”

Her composure cracked for a second at the sound of her name, but she held herself upright. “I’m sorry.”

“She was blackmailed,” Avery said.

Benjamin appeared at my side. “Conference room A?”

“My office,” I said.

Benjamin’s eyes flicked to me. “Your office has glass windows and is sentimentally compromised.”

“My office.”

Benjamin sighed. “Fine. But if anyone begins monologuing near the windows, I will resign into the sea.”

We went in and I closed the blinds. Benjamin closed the door behind us. Avery placed a notebook on my desk. Then Jules placed her phone beside it.

Then Avery looked at me and said, “I promised I’d explain before I did anything irreversible.”

I stared at her.

Benjamin whispered, “Oh, no.”

“What did you do?” I asked.