Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Will we have a long-distance relationship? Can I cut back on my engagements to be here more? What will my security team say about me being here often?
I’m not even sure Luke locks his doors at night.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say, tossing the towel on the counter. “Trust the process.” I eye my phone again. It’s next to the coffee maker like a bomb ready to explode. Fuck. “Might as well get this over with.”
I power it on and wait for it to load. The alerts ping as soon as it connects to the towers, or whatever phones do. And they ping. And they ping. And ping again.
I missed calls from nearly every contact in my phone—from acquaintances to friends to business partners. The number of texts awaiting me is ridiculous. Maybe I’ll need a new phone number because I can’t handle that.
Anjelica is at the top of the call list with a missed one from only a few minutes ago, so I touch her name and wait for it to ring. She picks up quickly.
“Anjelica Grace.”
“Hi. It’s Laina.”
“Hey, how are you doing? Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just trying to wean myself back into the real world.”
“Probably a good idea. Did you see I called or is this a coincidence?”
No censure. No anger. No frustration. Anjelica was definitely the right person to call first.
I sit at the table. “I saw you called. Although I was going to call you anyway. What’s up?”
“I’ve been working with public relations to keep a handle on things. The hubbub has started to die down. Well, it did start to die down, but your ex-fiancé decided to stoke the fire this morning.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “What do you mean?”
“Tom and your father were at a charity golf tournament this morning. According to Exposé, Tom was quoted as saying you got cold feet, and the wedding would likely happen privately.”
He what?
I swallow down my parched throat. “What in the hell is he talking about?”
“That answers my question.”
“Which was ….”
“If something had changed and you forgot to let us know.”
I laugh angrily. “Anjelica, I assure you, I will not be marrying Tom Waverly anywhere at any time. Ever.” My hands shake. “And, of course, my father was standing right there, giving credence to Tom’s bullshit. I can’t …”
I take a deep breath before I continue with my thoughts. Because if I do what I want, a tsunami will be left in its wake.
But the longer I sit with the idea of firing my father as my business manager and removing him from every part of my business, the more it makes sense.
The more urgent it feels.
How many times have I asked for a break? How many times has he executed a contract despite my insistence that I didn’t want to be on a project? How often has he talked down to me and washed over concerns I raised about safety and money?
And now he’s playing golf with Tom? In a charity golf tournament like either of them have a heart. When I refused to marry the asshole.
I hate them both so much.
It’s not just the anger boiling inside me, though. I feel so …. betrayed. If Anjelica had said that my dad had reached out numerous times to make sure I was okay, I’d probably feel less unhinged now. But, no. He’s playing golf with the man I just walked out on as if I just got cold feet.
How would he know? There certainly wasn’t a missed call from him or Mom on my phone.
He doesn’t care about me as a person, and he can fuck right off.
I’m done.
“Can we schedule a meeting as soon as I return to Nashville?” I ask.
“When are you getting back?”
My heart is heavy. “I’m not sure. I’ll be there by the first of the week.”
“Is Monday afternoon good? Say, around three?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll add it to your calendar,” she says. “But I have to ask—what do you want to talk about?”
My palm sweats against the phone. “I want to make some changes. I want to be more in control of my schedule. I want to see every contract and offer, and I don’t want anyone to have the authority to sign on my behalf. Not right now.”
“Am I hearing you correctly? You want to remove your father from your management team?”
“Yes,” I say, ignoring the pit in my stomach. “That’s precisely what I want. I want him off everything. Is that hard to do?”
“It’s a lot of paperwork, and we need PR to be on the ball, ready to nip any negative press in the bud. How soon do you want to do this, Laina?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Let me get with legal then and have them start the process.” She sighs. “Can you hold on, please?”
“Sure.”
The line shuffles for a few moments until I’m put on speakerphone.