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“They won’t. My PR team is handling the situation, no charges were brought, and Clair will take care of the rest.” I should give them all a raise, Clair, and my PR team. The latter had taken care of that little hiccup with Eloise last time as well.
“Does Clair know you have a fake relationship with me?”
“She doesn’t. But she knows that I have a real relationship with you.”
“What?” she gasped, her eyes growing wide.
“Clair knew about us,” I admitted and her frown only deepened.
“Did you tell her?” I understood that Reagan was afraid of HR knowing about our relationship, but Clair had known this fact through me, and she was my friend, so she wouldn’t do shit to jeopardize my relationship as long as I wasn’t stepping out of line.
“No. She figured it out on her own. She confronted me about it. Believe it or not, she was the one who advised me that maybe what I felt for you wasn’t just limited to the bedroom.”
“She knew but she didn’t say anything?”
“No. She cares about me. We went to high school together with Mont. We went to the same college where I met Ryan. Besides, it’s not really her thing to be up in people’s business.”
“Remind me to thank her, then.”
“You can thank her by not fighting with her staff.”
“Fine. I’ll try.” She winced because she knew that although her work quality had improved, it hadn’t really gotten up to Susana and Clair’s standards.
“Good girl. Now do you want your eggs runny or well done?”
“Well done.”
We ate breakfast at the counter and I loved the way she was eating. It meant that she was feeling better, and so far, she hadn’t developed any signs of concussion which was a good thing, so I reminded myself to send a message to Ben that Reagan was feeling better.
We talked about a few mundane tasks that didn’t include work. She talked about her time in Juilliard and her friends in college she hadn’t seen in a while. She talked about her previous boyfriends and I changed the subject every time she mentioned them because I didn’t want to think about other boys touching my woman.
I told her about my days in high school with Mont and Clair, and how I found the latter making out with all the girls she could reach. And she was surprised to learn this about the Chief of Human Resources. I probably shouldn’t have said those things but Reagan and I weren’t keeping things from each other anymore.
We sat in the kitchen for over thirty minutes with nothing planned for the day but to rest and to see how the hotel would take the news and I just prayed that it wouldn’t reach the press. The last thing I needed was for my hotel to be in jeopardy, thanks to Ryan. It would be the most horrible deja vu.
Reagan’s phone vibrated on the counter beside her, and her streak of ignoring messages when we were together was broken when her brother’s name appeared on the screen. She stopped talking mid-sentence as she cocked her head to see the caller.
“It’s Ryan,” she announced, a look of uncertainty painted on her face, clearly internally debating whether she should answer.
“You don’t have to answer,” I coaxed because I didn’t want her to feel like she was obliged to do whatever the men in her family wanted her to do. Because Reagan was a big girl and she didn’t owe them shit. “You can give yourself another day.”
“He’s my brother,” she argued. She had told me that even though her jackass of a brother was too uncoordinated to throw a punch, she was still willing to listen to him. Her father, though? That was an entirely different story.
“He gave you a gorgeous shiner,” I said nonchalantly, shrugging, and finished her bowl of fruit and yogurt. She rolled her eyes. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t allow her to take that call because I knew that she needed a break from all this bullshit. But then I realized that Reagan had enough men in her life telling her what to do.
So, despite my disagreement, I let her do her thing. And if any of them decided to throw a punch at her again, my fist would knock them out cold before they could even swing.
“What do you want, Ryan?” Reagan snapped. She didn’t sound scared or betrayed when she answered. She made sure her brother knew that she had the upper hand, that this was Ryan’s one and only chance to say his piece before he did permanent damage to their relationship.
“Reagan.” Ryan’s voice was groggy and tired, like he hadn’t had a chance to sleep at all last night. Good. He deserved to be eaten alive by his conscience. “Shit, I— I don’t—How are you?”
“I missed who I was before you punched me in the face,” she jested coldly.
“Fuck. I am so sorry, Reags. I didn’t mean to—”
“Why are you calling me?” she interrupted. At least I wasn’t the only one annoyed at Ryan complaining and apologizing. “After years of radio silence, you’re calling me again.”
“Don’t let him get off the hook so easily,” I mouthed at ger, giving her a thumbs up to tell her that she was doing fantastic as I started collecting the empty dishes in front of us.
