AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What doyou mean we need to talk?” I ask Astrid, who’s standing in front of me, in the middle of my office.
“Something came up and I just wanted to make everyone aware and come up with a plan. So I have Whitney and Charles at the conference room, and if you can join us that’ll be great.”
“Huh, okay.” It’s been two days since I last saw Whitney, and seeing her so soon makes my heart flip in my chest.
Then the realization her father will be there with us is like a glacial bucket of water poured all over me, without any warning. In the last day, Astrid texted me a couple of times about stuff related to posts, and I had to control myself not to ask how Whitney was doing.
I was a jerk.
I was a prick.
In the end, though, the right decisions are the hard ones.
Doesn’t feel right in my heart, or even in my head if I’m being honest. But it felt right to her father, a man I’ve always admired and who’s been there for me. Besides, what if he has a point? Just because I want her and she wants me doesn’t mean I’m the best for her.
Astrid small talks with me as we walk to the conference room. I can’t help but remember what I did there with Whitney not that long ago. Memories unfurl in my mind, and before I emerge into the room, I can already smell her scent, feel her presence, my body perking up at the sight of her.
My gaze collides with hers, and there’s a flicker in her eyes, a fraction of a second when her features soften. Then, she squares her shoulders and nods at me with professional posture, and that flash of romantic recognition is gone. I can’t complain, can I? I’ve done this to her.
Reluctantly, I peel my attention off her and greet her father. I’ve seen him once today already, in passing by the elevator, and we exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather. Our friendship isn’t where it was, but I’m guessing it’ll take time.
He could have punched me, I would have let him. But Charles isn’t that kind of guy.
“I know a lot happened in the past few days,” Astrid starts, and we all take a seat at the table. “A digital influencer friend of mine alerted me that an acquaintance of his is running a story later on today. About how the owner of Dallas Proper nearly punched a politician.”
Charles sighs. “Oh, great.”
I curse under my breath. Who would have thought that after all our efforts, everything would go the opposite way of what we wanted? I glance at Whitney. She’s sitting, with a neutral expression on her face, then she asks, “Why did they wait two days?”
“Because they had bigger fish to try. Some huge party where a swinger couple got exposed.”
“Swingers are tough competition,” I say to lighten the mood, but no one is smiling.
“What options do we have?” Charles asks. “Whitney, do you know the people she’s talking about? Can we get in touch with them and ask them not to post?”
She waves him off. “They should run it. Dallas Proper will get maybe even more publicity than it would with Dan Walters’ visit alone.”
“I disagree,” Charles says. “It’s different when someone is perceived to have been rude to a politician. Whether he was right or not,” he says, then looks at me.
“Actually, the mystery of it will be good. Will make people talk for longer,” Astrid says.
“Yes, but think of you, Whitney. That picture of you and Maddox ran recently. What if people assume that their tiff has something to do with you? I don’t want this controversy to hurt you.”
We all look at Whitney.
She drums her manicured nails on the table, then shoots a glance at her dad. “Well, fortunately, this decision isn’t up to you, Dad,” she says, with the slightest hint of bitterness in her voice. She turns to me. “Maddox, are you okay with this? Since you and me will be the only ones affected.”
My first instinct is to say no, to protect her. I don’t care at this point if my reputation gets tarnished, but this isn’t just about me. She’s the one with experience in this space, and she’s the one who’s had her wishes not cared for recently already. I can’t do that to her again. “I’m okay with whatever you decide.”
“Good. Then we do nothing about it,” Whitney says.
“Nothing?” her father asks.
“Not for now, anyway. Let’s see what happens. If needed I’ll do a Stories, but I don’t think it’ll matter much. My instinct says this post won’t do as much damage as we believe,” Whitney says.
“I trust your judgment,” I say, with a small smile.
She lifts up her eyebrow. “At last.”
