Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Louise.”
I slump back in my chair, swiping a hand over my face.
I need a contingency plan in case this doesn’t work out. My next call is to my personal attorney, Martin.
He picks up on the first ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Cromwell?”
“What does it take to get a restraining order?”
“...from a disgruntled former employee?”
“More like a psychotic ex-partner,” I snap.
He chuckles with surprise.
“Well, we’ve all been there, haven’t we? What’s she doing?”
“Trying to buy the property next door to mine, for one,” I grind out.
He clears his throat and takes his sweet time answering.
“Regrettably, buying real estate next to yours isn’t illegal or threatening, and the standard for a restraining order that would restrict that activity can be rather intense. Courts don’t like to limit people’s freedoms, so without a real threat, you’re unlikely to get one. I’m sure there must be more going on?”
Where do I fucking start? I’m not even sure what to tell him.
The harder I rack my brain, the less I come up with that’s illegal.
That’s the sickening part.
No court in the world would hold her responsible for what she did, taking something precious I can never get back. If she did more—if she drugged me like I always suspected—I was too blasted out of my mind with shock and grief to get proof.
I must take too long to answer because he says, “Miles...are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Has she done anything else besides pursue this property deal?”
“She left a note at my mother’s grave—”
“Wait. She was buried in Pinnacle Pointe, right?”
“Yes.”
“Is she a local there?”
“No, it’s Simone Niehaus.”
Again, that gaping silence that makes me feel like a crazy man.
Hell, maybe I am.
“If there was no valid reason for her to be in the same town besides wanting to harass you and making a claim on the neighboring property... Now, we’re getting somewhere. Send me a full account of what happened, and if you still have the note, that’s better.”
“I’ll work on it, Martin.”
I hang up, already drumming my fingers on my desk and hating what an absolute joke my life has become.
Even after all these years, the bad blood with Simone still costs me everything—or nearly enough.
Can I really afford more bad blood with Jennifer Landers?
13
No Turning Away (Jenn)
I effing hate Mondays, and knowing the bosshole is back in town isn’t helping anything.
Seriously.
What kind of elephant prick just shows up out of the blue and tells me I can’t even entertain an offer for my property? And all because he has some beef with the person who made it.
Of course, I agreed to the contract when I took the job.
I have to give him first option. But still, a girl can look, and she can certainly dig deeper to find out why people keep offering so much freaking money for an old inn on a scenic slice of land that’s seen better days.
What does this Simone really want, and what did he do to her?
It’s typical Miles Cromwell.
He just comes barreling in, all snarls and bared teeth, and then he disappears. To be fair, I haven’t made any effort to reach out since the dogs ran him off my parents’ porch.
Still.
I’m so sick of it I could scream—and knowing I have to deal with him for at least the next eight hours is enough to make me want to break this contract and run off to the other side of the country. I hear Maine is nice for an ocean view.
But I can’t honor Gram or myself in Maine.
Like it or not, Bee Harbor is quickly becoming home.
The sooner you suck it up and finish the job, the faster you’ll be home with the dogs, I tell myself, clinging to that nugget of hope.
So I sit in my office, reviewing one short video after the next, hoping my face doesn’t get stuck from cringing too hard. I tap my glasses against the edge of my desk.
I haven’t worn them since my Winthrope days, but if I’m marooned in Seattle playing girlboss, I’ll look the part.
Just how? How did they do this?
Some of this content feels so comically inauthentic I don’t know how they botched it.
It’s almost like someone said, 'Hey, this looks too real. Let’s cheese it up.'
Ugh.
I drop my head to my desk with a thunk! It’ll be easier finding the unedited footage and starting all over than explaining how to fix some of this mess.
It’s time for a break anyway, and I need to get word to Miles that he needs to step in and let me have full production control of the Pinnacle Pointe videos.
So I push my glasses on and step out of my office, heading for the private elevator to the executive floor.
For a polished corporate heart, there are more people working in cubicles than you’d think, and they all like to chatter. Louise’s desk is right in front of Cromwell’s office.