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Me:Did you buy those shorts yet?
Emmy:Not yet. Ella says I need to buy out the whole store of some place called La Perla. Don’t worry, I told her I’m doing no such thing.
La Perla, I know exactly what that is. And I fucking approve. Fuck, I’ll buy the fucking franchise if it means I get to see Emily in all of that shit.
Me:Yes, you are! Get clicking, babe. One in every style, every colour. I want to see the fucking rainbow on you!
Emmy:I’ll check it out.
Me:I gotta go, but if you don’t shop up big there, I’ll just go there myself and buy everything.
Emmy:Don’t work too hard. XX
Checking the time, I have ten minutes until this fucking board meeting. I need to catch up with Sam before I go in there. Stopping in his office doorway, I see him hitting at the keyboard on his desk.
“What did that keyboard ever do to you?” I ask.
He doesn’t stop, totally ignoring my comment instead. A minute later, he smiles. “Gotcha, motherfucker!” he shouts.
I raise my eyebrows in question. It’s not unusual for Sam to get animated or excited when he finally manages to get into something he was being kept out of.
“I have the name of the fucker who registered both death certificates.” He smiles at me.
“And that is?”
“Gregory Jones. Detective Gregory Jones,” Sam says, picking up a pile of files and walking towards the door.
“Who the fuck is Gregory Jones, and what the fuck does he have to do with Emily?” I ask aloud.
“No idea. Yet,” he replies. “Try not to kill off any of the board members,” Sam adds as we walk into the boardroom.
The room falls into silence as I take a seat at the head of the table. I’ve always fucking hated these meetings. They’re full of stuffy, old, overweight men. Men just like my fucking father.
It was supposed to be Dean in this seat, not me. He never worked a day in his life in this company—my father gave up trying to mould him. Instead, the son of a bitch focused all his energy on me, making me the next head of McKinley Industries.
Let’s just say, he’s not a man who’s missed by anyone. The only reason I gave Emily up when we were kids was because I was so afraid I would turn out like my father. An abusive, entitled asshole. I didn’t want to ever put that on Emily.
My hands clench on the desk as I think about the three years of abuse she’s endured anyway. Three years I could have saved her from… I should have saved her from. Whoever made up that shit about if you love someone let them go is a goddamn fucking idiot. If you love someone, the only way to keep them safe is to fucking keep them in the first place.
“Mr. McKinley, we’re ready whenever you are, sir,” Sam says from next to me. The sooner we get this shitshow over with, the sooner I get back to Emily. I nod my head, indicating that I’m listening—even if I’m only half paying attention.
* * *
It’sone in the afternoon by the time I get five minutes to myself. I send Emily a quick text to check in, something I’ve wanted to do for a while.
Me:How are you?
Emmy:Realllllly goooood. How you doinnn?????
Her reply comes in quick, almost like she was watching the phone for it to ring, although I’m not sure what to make of her message.
Me:I’d be better if I was home with you. What are you up to?
Emmy:I’d be better if you were in me too.
Great, now I have a fucking boner. I’m sitting in the car heading back to the office with a fucking boner.
Emmy:With. Not in. Although, now that I think about it…
