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The long pause tells me she’s blindsided.
“Is something else wrong?”
“I’ll explain once we’re settled. For now, help round up everyone from creative you can.”
“Miles—”
“Mr. Cromwell in the office. In front of others, I’m still the CEO, and you’d be wise to—hello?”
She hung up on me.
Fuck!
I slam the phone down in its cradle.
I know, I know.
I’m being an ice-cold bastard and I probably deserved it, but I have an entire town and a lot of livelihoods depending on me right now.
I have to get in front of this ASAP, personal consequences be damned.
15
No Exception (Jenn)
“What were you thinking?” I ask myself as soon as I end the call and drop the phone on my desk.
I knew who he was all along.
But I still slept with him.
Multiple times.
More orgasms than I can count.
Screaming, breathless, bone-rattling finishes I thought only happened in spicy novels and never real life.
This isn’t exactly a new pattern for him, or us—and I have to remind myself there isn’t an us.
This is exactly what he did after he kissed me.
A huge flapping red flag I just straight-up ignored as soon as I saw him in his office with that hangdog look and a few rough words inviting sin.
You know it’s bad when you don’t even wait for a real bed with a man you shouldn’t be screwing.
God help me, I’m the dumbest woman alive.
Waldo, please call me today. I need to be done with this man and his company.
Tell me there’s some magic clause where I can sell to the realtor after all and get on with my life.
Yep. I’m at the point of thinking about pulling up stakes and asking Gram for forgiveness for the rest of my life.
But not really.
Sigh.
I glance at the computer screen.
Six more minutes to make it to the conference room without the world’s hottest mistake tearing my face off.
At least the dogs made it home okay, though, courtesy of Benson. Unlike me, they’ll have sweet memories of their time in his palace looking over Lake Washington.
After wasting a couple more minutes browsing cottages in Pinnacle Pointe I don’t have the gumption to rent with my make-believe money from an imaginary sale, I take the private elevator up.
Maybe he’s so pissed at what we did that he’s going to terminate my contract, and we can just be done.
Yeah, no.
Or he’ll just berate me about how unprofessional it was, like it was all my fault, and send me off on my merry heartbroken way.
He’s right about one thing—it won’t happen again.
Not unless he gets bored and I get a lobotomy. Or horny.
Or whatever blow to the head made him say the crap he said yesterday.
Ugh.
He’d better hope he has Louise in the room if he even so much as makes a snide comment. Otherwise, I’m going to knee him square in the balls.
I swing the door to the conference room open and storm in a few minutes later. It’s dead silent.
Huh?
“Hey, Jenn. How you holding up?” Smokey Dave sounds weirdly depressed.
“Fine, you?” I take the first empty seat I find, more weirded out than ever when he just shrugs.
Soon, the entire creative team from Pinnacle Pointe is gathered there, but the room is giving me serious funeral vibes.
Then I spot Miles and a couple of other suits at the back of the room, talking among themselves. The way his hands slash through the air sharpens my nerves.
Whatever this is, it’s big.
Miles moves to the front of the room a minute later, clasping his hands in front of him and donning his best calm face.
“I’ll keep this short and to the point. I need all Pinnacle Pointe content edited, polished, and published in under forty-eight hours. We’ve lost the luxury of time.” He barely pauses while a few shocked gasps and whispers fly around the room. “We can no longer afford to treat this like a side project. I need the main push ASAP.”
Whatever I expected, it wasn’t this.
What the hell is going on?
This was always a nonprofit side project. It can’t be about money.
“If you have any questions, email the department head, and if they don’t answer, you come to me. Go get started. Dismissed.” He claps his hands like he’s talking to a pack of dogs.
People start filing out with rumors darting back and forth.
I stay behind, hoping for a chance to ask Miles what happened.
Why the sudden urgency?
And holy shit, does he know what he’s truly asking?
I’m not sure I could have everything ready for prime time in two days if you held a gun to my head.
He notices me standing there, glares, and says, “I don’t have time for games or personal affairs, Miss Landers. Go. Help them.”
Games? Miss Landers?
What the fuck.
“That’s pretty rich coming from you.” I can’t help it.
“What do you mean?”
“Gee, I don’t know. You’ve completely changed the scope of my project without a word of explanation. What’s changed? You owe me that much.”
