Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
I have no concept of how garden clubs work, but I understand bitchy women who take perverse delight in others’ discomfort. Which means I need to call my parents too. If this is as big as Kayla says, it will reach people back home, and I want Mom and Dad to hear my version—the truth, not some overly sensationalized bullshit gossip.
“Let us help,” Maddox says. “We’re in this together. We’re in this with you.”
Even though she can’t see me, I nod along, agreeing whole-heartedly.
“I know,” she says, a little more warmly, sounding like the Kayla we’re both in love with. “And I appreciate it. But I need to do this myself. It’s my reputation. Just… give me the day, okay? Can you do that?”
I meet Maddox’s eyes, both of us silently screaming that no, we cannot do that. But what he says is, “Yeah, we can do that. As long as you promise to let us know if there’s anything we can do. You’re not alone, Kayla.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and I can hear the smile on her face when she says, “I think I needed to hear that.”
“You’re not alone,” I echo. “You’re never gonna be alone again.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna wish for a moment of solitude, but nope, here we are,” Maddox jokes, but his voice is tight. He’s forcing the levity out of habit. He’s scared she’s gonna decide this isn’t worth the drama. I’m scared she’s going to decide I’m not worth it.
We say our goodbyes, with us promising to stay put until she calls and her promising to call if she needs us, and when Maddox hangs up the phone, we lock eyes.
“I don’t like it,” I declare.
“Me neither.”
“Every fiber of my being wants to charge into her office and have her back against anyone who dares to say a single sideways word to her.” Tension is coiling through my muscles at the idea of people at her office daring to give her looks, call her names, or doubt her place in the company. I want to destroy them all.
“I want to hunt Brent down and punch him again, and then find whoever posted that other video and kill them,” Maddox agrees.
We stare at each other for a long time, both weighing the pros and cons of those actions. He sighs first, surrendering. “I’m ordering breakfast. I need a hockey puck of a steak to gnaw on to get some of this anger out. Steak and eggs?”
I shake my head. Maddox orders a food delivery, and the same thing will happen. Someone will notice his name on an order to her address. Instead, I’ve got another idea. I dial the number in my phone and when the line picks up, I’m not surprised by the answer.
“You really know how to fuck things up, don’t you? Normally, I’d approve of any tomfuckery. But since it’s my sister you’re fucking over, you should know, we’re mortal enemies again.”
“Kyle, shut up for a second and listen. We need your help.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for only two seconds before Kyle says, “I’m listening.”
KAYLA
Iroll into Blue Lake with my game face on, ready to fight the war that’s been unexpectedly brought to my doorstep. No one dares to speak to me in the lobby or the elevator, though there are curious glances shot my way.
“Angeline, thank you for coming in early,” I say by way of greeting as I enter my office. “Everyone here and ready?”
She stands instantly, on full alert. “Yes. Greg and Helena from Legal are waiting for you as you requested. And Mr. Rodriguez will be here within the hour. Would you like Cameron in that meeting too? I can coordinate with his assistant.”
She’s good, having prioritized the business issues first, the same way I always do, while ensuring our family attorney will be ready to address the rest of this clusterfuck.
“Yes. Have Cameron come in as soon as he’s here, even if I’m still with Greg and Helena. I don’t want him and Rodriquez creating a game plan without me.”
“Of course,” she answers, the duh implied in her tone. “Kayla?” I stop, looking at her expectantly though my mind is shooting off in a hundred different directions. “I’m happy for you,” she says hesitantly. “I kinda hoped this was why you’d been smiling so much lately.”
I’m so completely focused on this Jessup contract retraction that it takes me a second to realize what she’s talking about and switch gears. And despite my recent happiness, there’s no smiling now. “This isn’t exactly how I planned on the world finding out.” I huff out a humorless laugh, admitting, “I kind of hoped to keep it quiet indefinitely. At least publicly.”
I read some of the headlines, saw the Reddit boards too. The comments range from calling me a morally bankrupt whore—yes, an actual quote—to labeling me a lucky bitch for getting a Mad-Trick, with graphic musings about whether I was spit-roasted or not. All of the commenters were locked onto this being some sort of sexually perverse oddity, like we’re freaks on display for their entertainment consumption.