Page 124 of No Headlines Please

As I drove out of the garage and into Chicago traffic, heading toward Tessa's building, I could hardly focus on the road. All I could think about was him, wondering who he was and why he'd done any of this.

I mean, it had to be him, right?

But what if it wasn't?

What if nothing had been done at all?

There was always the other possibility.

I'd completely lost my mind.

49

No Means No

Maddox

Nobody said no to Evelyn Whitmore-McGuiness. Not the board. Not the family. And not even my assistant, who'd let my mother waltz into my office without an appointment.

On second thought, make that nobody but me.

I'd been saying no for years.

This probably went a long way in explaining why my brother was the favorite, why I was the black sheep, and why she was currently glaring from the other side of my desk.

She wasn't sitting. Neither was I.

If history repeated, neither of us would.

Evelyn Whitmore-McGuiness looked exactly like what she was – a full-blooded Whitmore. Her silver-blonde hair was swept into a perfect twist, and her cream-colored suit was every bit as elegant as the woman wearing it.

Diamond studs glittered at her ears, understated but flawless, just like the rest of her. She carried herself with the same regal confidence she'd possessed for as long as I could remember, standing ramrod straight as she fixed me with a look I'd seen too many times to count.

Her eyes hardened as she asked, "What do you mean no?"

I hadn't seen her in months – not since the fiasco with the wedding. But forget happy reunions. I said it again, working in the word twice for good measure. "No means no. And besides, I thought I was disowned."

With a light scoff, she said, "Oh, like you care."

She was right. I didn't care. Or maybe part of me did, but not so much that I'd beg for a seat at the table.

I'd spent the last ten years building a fortune of my own, and if things kept going on their current trajectory, I would eclipse them all before I died – well, assuming she didn't murder me now.

Standing with only a desk between us, she looked seriously tempted.

When I said nothing in reply, she announced, "I am prepared to forgive you, you know."

I didn't know. Plus, it was a lie. Maybe she thought she would forgive me, but after years of disappointing her, I knew exactly how this would play out.

She wouldn't forgive. I wouldn't forget. And both of us would be frustrated.

I smiled. "Who says I'm willing to forgive you?"

She gave a brittle laugh. "Forgive me? For what?"

As if she didn't know. I gave her a look and just waited.

Finally, she sighed. "Sloane is perfectly lovely. The two of you would've been happy enough. And she would've been stellar for the brand."