Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“Too bad,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. My phone starts buzzing, and I take it out, ignoring the look of consternation on Bella’s face. It’s George Claude, but his message doesn’t make much sense but he’s horrible at texting.
George: Urgently need to speak to you. I found something in some court records. Something that could explain some things, but also could be dangerous for you.
I frown but put my phone back in my pocket. He can wait. I’ve got too many balls in the air right now and all I want to do is go find Chastity and start planning our future.
“To make things worse,” Isabella’s voice hardens in her last-ditch attempt to change my mind, “you promoted her, Jackson. You fucked her then promoted her. She has her own office, an office that’s not suited to her position.”
“She isn’t an intern anymore. She’s one of the creative heads on a team.”
“Really? She went from being an intern to creative head real fucking fast.” Isabella rubs her forehead. “You and I both know everything you stand to lose. Just one example, that new women’s shelter you’re funding? The one that you say is so important to you? Well, they’re not going to work with you when all this comes out. It won’t matter whether you are guilty or not. You know that.”
I know what’s she’s saying is true. It’s just Chastity means more to me than any of this other bullshit so it’s time to shut this down.
“If all of this comes out, if the situation with Chastity comes out and you don’t deny it…we’ve lost. You lose your new venture for the micro-loan charity. You lose stock price and your money. Your reputation. And you lose Chastity anyway.”
My jaw clenches tight. “I won’t lose her.”
Isabella tilts her head, her eyes sympathetic. “Does she know three employees are accusing you of sexual harassment?”
I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat. “No. I haven’t told her.”
“She’s not going to think that she's just one in a string of many? It’s going to break her heart.”
“She won’t doubt me. I won’t deny that I'm in a relationship with her. Not here. Not anywhere. Not in court.”
“You need to understand. You’re doing this all wrong. Why did you promote her? It’s all bias and-”
“She was promoted for a reason. I have everything on record. She was the creative force behind us securing some real-world accounts. And she deserved it.”
Isabella prepares to launch into another tirade, and I decide it’s time.
“As for the relationship…” I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the little red velvet box, placing it in front of her. Isabella eyes it suspiciously, then snaps it open.
“Oh my God, Jackson, please tell me that’s not what I think it is….”
“It’s got Chastity’s name on it. I’m marrying her Isabella.”
She struggles to fight a smile. “Honestly, Jackson. Okay.” She throws her hands up in defeat. “You really are this serious about this?”
“Chastity has changed me. I know it’s been fast, but I’m a different man.” I think about that for a moment, then shake my head. “You can approve or disapprove that’s up to you, but this isn’t going to change. You need to work out how to defend me. That’s what I pay you for.”
Isabella sighs, shaking her head, but she’s smiling now. “If that’s the way it has to be then that’s the way it has to be.” She bites into her lip, then nods. “God forbid you could make my job easier.”
She hands me back the ring and I slip it back into the pocket inside my suit jacket.
“Okay.” She draws a deep breath moving on which is a fucking relief. “What did your PI find on the other complainants?” Isabella is back to business.
I shake my head. “It’s confusing.” I reach into the manila folder next to me on the table and pull out a picture. “This is a copy of the photo Annabel Enrique, the first accuser, is giving as evidence that I was in DC the day she was assaulted. CCTV camera image. Means they have a whole video of me walking into her house that night. I’m not the average guy and they say it’s me. Sure looks like me.”
Isabella’s brows shoot together. “But you and I both know you were not in DC. We have cast iron proof of that.”
“Of course. I was here.”
Isabella picks up the image and stares at it closely. “If it’s fake, it’s damn good. Hold on. When did you buy a gold Rolex?”
“I didn’t. I hate them.”
“Right? You think they’re gaudy.”
“Exactly. What's that got to do with this?”
Isabella’s eyes light up. She slides the picture toward me. Short, neat, perfectly manicured fingernails tap at the photo. “The Jackson in this photo is wearing a gold watch.”