Page 75 of Manhattan Bossholes

I froze. Girlfriend? I had no idea.

“Well, that’s not the issue here,” I pushed on. “It’s the way the media will spin it. Maya’s already framed herself as the victim here—we’ve lost control of the narrative.”

“But that’s not my fault,” she said softly.

“Did I say it was?” I roared back at her.

Piper shrank back against the wall like I’d struck her, which made me have to vent my frustration by pacing around the room.

The air in the room got heavy as we both tried to process how everything had just gone to hell.

“I think I’m done,” Piper said in a shaky voice.

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “The night’s not over yet. We probably have a few more photo ops with New York Magazine. As if I want to keep fake smiling.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Piper whispered, taking a step away from me, her face crumbling. “I’m done with us.”

“Excuse me?” I asked her as my heart lurched. I’d expected we’d talk about the “us” part of the equation at a later date, when we’d had time to cool down and assess the damage. Not here. Not now.

“You and me,” she replied, gesturing between us. “It’s over.”

I was about to respond when my phone rang.

“Fuck, it’s Amanda.”

The fact that the Summit social media guru was calling me in the middle of the party was not good news.

“Yeah, you should definitely take that,” Piper said with a little more venom in her voice. “I’ll leave you to it, since business is the only thing that matters to you.”

I stared at her as her expression shifted from sadness to anger. My phone seemed to get louder and louder as it rang, until it sounded like a fire alarm.

Which it sort of was.

I needed to do damage control on the Jerry scenario. The company came first for me—it had to. I had employees all around the world who counted on me to get this right, to make sure the business stayed strong and their paychecks kept coming. But Piper was looking at me like she’d been counting on me too…and like I’d let her down. Everything was spiraling out of control, and the only way I knew how to handle it was to focus on the things I could fix. And that wasn’t—had never been—my love life.

Even if what I felt for Piper was stronger and went deeper than anything I’d experienced before, it had still reached its breaking point. I should’ve seen it coming, shouldn’t have let myself get this invested. I knew better than to expect romance to last.

If I’d been smarter, more careful, maybe it wouldn’t hurt this much.

22

VINCENT

Just when I thought I could go home and try to drink away my Evermore launch stress, a text came in from Paul.

“I know it’s late. But I need to talk.”

Rather than try to hash it out over the phone, I told him to meet me at the Glenhaven Club. It was a private club frequented by billionaires, and it was probably one of the best secured places that I knew. Plus, they had top-shelf…everything. If drinks were required, they had the best kind, and we’d have privacy to talk. By the time I arrived, he was waiting outside, pale and bleary-eyed.

“You look like shit,” I said as I strode over to him.

“Yeah, thanks. You don’t look so hot yourself despite the tux.”

We gave each other a weary handshake side hug combo.

Of course I was wearing the drama of the night across my face. I could keep it together when I had to, but now that I was alone with one of my oldest friends, I could finally acknowledge to myself how fucked up my life was at the moment.

But Paul had asked for my support. This wasn’t about me or my problems.