Grumpy Boss Hamel, B. (best ereader for textbooks TXT) 📖

exactly publicized. They’re both from old money families, and you know how Europe can be.” He cleared his throat and stood, looking a little unsteady. “Come on, we have a flight to catch, and I need to convince Fluke to have a chat.”

“You’re still going to try?” I asked, letting him lead me back outside to the sidewalk where the town car waited.

“I promised Alfie I would,” he said. “And I’ll keep my word. Even though I’m pretty sure Fluke’s going to rip out my guts and bake them for breakfast as soon as I show my face.”

I laced my arm through his and patted his shoulder with my other hand. “Don’t worry, that’s what I’m here for.”

He smiled slightly, but didn’t seem comforted, as we got into the car and headed back home.

6

Rees

Lady Fluke didn’t answer my calls.

I wasn’t surprised. After all, I allegedly had an affair with her second cousin’s wife, and that was not the sort of thing Lady Fluke could forgive. She was an old-fashioned woman, from the type of breeding that allowed for very little variation from the norm. Any hint of bad behavior, or suggestion of scandal, or whiff of some ugly hidden truth immediately turned her away. Once the rumors came out in the papers and online, I knew she’d cut me out of her life.

I didn’t want to screw Alfie. Although I’d never heard of him, I knew about his outfit by reputation, and they were considered the best of the best, somehow they created profit where none existed before and turned out obscene numbers. I wanted to be on his good side, and plus, he’d given me five million.

I was a man of my word, even if that was a difficult thing to be in this business.

The midafternoon sun reflected off the windows of the high rise across the street from my office. I squinted out at the sky and watched a spec slowly move across the clouds—some plane, headed for anywhere. Millie sat at a table nearby, going over financial documents related to the SPAC, although I had no clue why. I had other lawyers for that. She should’ve been studying for the damn bar.

“If Lady Fluke won’t talk to you, how are we supposed to convince her to sell Alfie some bonds?” she asked, sounding like she was bored, and that wasn’t an incredible loaded question.

“I don’t know,” I grumbled. “I guess that’s our problem to figure out.”

“Maybe if you didn’t screw around all the time, this wouldn’t have happened,” she said with an edge to her voice, like she cared what I did with my dick. Like she had any clue about me at all.

“You’re blaming the victim now,” I said. “Those rumors aren’t true.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Poor baby, what a victim. We’re sitting here in your gorgeous office, with all this expensive furniture, and I’m finding it really hard to feel bad for you.”

“Try harder then.” I leaned back, crossing my arms, and studied her. She seemed flustered and annoyed, and I thought back to that moment when my fist impacted Mirko’s face, then the moment right after: the look in her eyes, the shock of the sudden violence, but the incredible, burning desire.

She liked it when I punched that old pervert in the face. She liked when a big, strong man came over and saved her. She’d deny it of course—she was too modern of that—but she loved the idea that I could beat the shit out of another person, all for her honor.

Some part of me liked it too. It was a dumb, brutish, annoying part of me, but still. I liked the idea of breaking that gross shit’s face for Millie, and I liked it even more that she wanted me for it.

I wanted to savage her. Take her here, on my table—throw the spreadsheets on the ground and close the blinds until her moans echo through my office.

“None of this changes the fact that Lady Fluke hates you now, and we need to talk to her,” Millie said, tapping her pen against her teeth. “There’s got to be a way you can prove that it’s not real.”

“I can get Giana to back me up,” I said, frowning slightly. “She doesn’t like the rumor any more than I do.”

“But she’d have every reason to lie about it,” Millie pointed out, which was a good point. Hard to believe Giana would be honest, even if she was. “What about her husband?”

“I hardly know him,” I said.

“But he might be willing to back us on this one. I doubt he wants this sort of scandal in the papers any more than you do. He’s a politician, right?”

I nodded, frowning a little bit, looking at my hands. She had a point, although politicians in Italy were quite different from politicians in America.

Because I could respond, there was a knock at the door, and Jack came in. His face was clouded by uncertainty as he glanced at Millie and nodded, then walked over to my desk, a tablet in his hands.

“Got something for you,” he said, but hesitated before handing the screen over. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Does this have anything to do with my current problem?” I asked.

He nodded and rubbed at his face. “Oh yeah. It really does.” He glanced at Millie. “How’s work so far? Like it around here?”

“It’s fantastic,” she said, crossing her legs. “What’s going on?”

Jack finally handed it over. The tabloid was in Italian, but I knew the basics enough to read the headline. It read, in big, splashy letters, Pop Star Queen Giana Pregnant! Beneath it was a large picture of Giana and me out at some dinner we’d shared one evening. Oddly enough, her husband had been with us that night—but of course they cropped him out.

“How far has this gotten?” I asked, trying not to snap the damn tablet in half. Those rotten bastards were taking this too far. Rumors of an affair were