Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“If she bought a cash car, is it safe?” That’s the question I ask, but what I really mean is, should I have the damn thing towed for repairs and then returned?
“I made sure it was, boss. Someone has to care for the girl.”
Yep. Suspicions confirmed. Armstrong has flipped.
Traitor.
“What did she say to you?” I growl out. “About me? About us?”
He looks into the rearview mirror so he can glare at me without turning his head.
“She didn’t have to say anything. When a woman climbs into a car sobbing and demands to go to an apartment she hasn’t slept at in weeks, you don’t have to be a love doctor to figure that one out. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Heron, we’re starting to cause a backup...”
“Of course.” I exit the car with a sigh and head upstairs to my empty home.
I pace around the kitchen and reach for a scotch bottle, sloshing some out on the counter. Then I walk back to the sunroom, but stop short at the room Jordan stayed in.
All of his stuff is still here, left behind without answers.
I’ve been sucker punched.
My bastard father kidnapped my little brother. School isn’t out for another three months.
He’s going to ruin this kid’s life, and it’s all my fault.
If I hadn’t lied, if I’d told him the truth about the devil who made us both, he might’ve listened to me at the hospital.
Also, I miss him.
Goddammit, I do.
He was a good kid. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he realized that dirty old man proved I lied to him.
Idiot. I resist the urge to jump off my wrapped balcony.
“I’ll make this right somehow, J-man,” I whisper to my own reflection.
I wish I knew how.
Moving into the sunroom, I stare out at downtown Chicago with its silvery lights twinkling like tinsel. The penthouse has never felt so empty, so cold.
The worst part is, someone else is alone tonight because of my fuck-ups. I should probably visit her, only I don’t have the guts to tell her I let her son leave with the man who defiled her life.
I down the scotch and then go back to the kitchen for a few more fingers.
When the second drink is gone, I change clothes, brush my teeth, and fall into bed. Sleep doesn’t come.
It’s too early for me. I’m only home because I couldn’t focus, and because my inbox is an overflowing sewer.
Worse, I’m so addicted to Brina’s body snug against mine that I can’t sleep without her now.
My duvet still smells like cinnamon and vanilla and more sex I wish we’d had, and so do my pillows. This has to be remedied.
I grab my phone and text Ruby. Order me a new duvet, pillows, shams, sheets, the works. Don’t care what it looks like. Tip yourself twenty percent.
A second later, she replies.
Yeah, no. It’s way too late for you to be texting me about your personal issues. I’m not your EA. I’m not even sure this is an appropriate task for an assistant. Stop being an ass in a top hat and beg her to come back to work.
Magnus: Without sleep I’ll be harder to deal with.
Ruby: Sounds like a you problem.
Savage. I remember when my employees used to be scared of me.
Maybe she’s right, though. Maybe I should beg Sabrina to keep her job.
I pull up her contact and start typing.
How are you? How’s it going? Are you okay?
You had Armstrong help you buy a car?
Did you have to tell me to lose your fucking number? Brina, I’ve never needed you more.
I can’t bring myself to hit send on any of these trash messages.
Nothing I type seems right, and I’m not about to admit that I need her. That I’m dying without her, and I can’t do something as simple as sleep without her, or as complicated as running my own company.
Magnus Heron, you have fucked this up.
I stalk her LinkedIn profile. It says she works at HeronComm. Maybe, if she isn’t already pounding the pavement after a new job, she’ll come back.
Right. She had to be talked into taking my job.
I scan her social profiles next. She’s posting her mom’s books and watching movies with Paige.
She’s fine.
I’m not.
I text Ruby again. Where are we at on the search for the new EA? I don’t think she’s coming back.
Ruby: I drafted the ads today. They’ll go up tomorrow. She said that?
I hesitate before replying.
Magnus: No.
Her online activity speaks for her.
She’s surviving better than me.
The woman bought herself a car and moved on.
Ruby: Don’t send me stupid texts when you haven’t even talked to her. I don’t have the time.
I fight the urge to chuck my phone across the room, feeling like a kid who’s just lost his first crush.
Outrageous.
I’m The Magnum. CEO. Billionaire. Time to start acting like it.