Page 8 of Love Marks

Fuck.

My mind is racing. There are a million things to handle. My mother, first off, who is probably calling me at this moment sobbing about her reputation and our reputation and my father’s reputation. My younger brother, Ben, prepared with either an emotional support speech or some alcohol. Adleman. Dammit — did he leak the story?

There’s no way. It’s a breach of contract and the whole merger would be null and void. Then again, now that this is out, perhaps my negotiation skills won’t be enough to save our asses. If he didn’t leak it, he’s going to be pissed. More importantly, if he didn’t leak it, then who the hell did?

Fuck.

Deciding I can’t wait for Ben, I make my way over to the liquor cabinet in my office. I pull out a bottle of Glenlivet and pour some into my glass. Just as I’m bringing it up to my lips, a knock on my door interrupts me.

“What?” I bark out. My assistant, Beverly, steps into my office.

“Your mother, brother, and Mr. Adleman are all on the line,” she informs me, answering emails on her phone. I know she’s working but I hate the way she taps on the touch screen with her acrylic nails.

“Tell them all I’m busy. Tell George I’ll call him back in ten minutes. And get me a coffee, black.”

“I know how you like your coffee, Wes. You don’t have to be so dramatic.” She rolls her eyes and closes the door. Luckily, she makes no comment about the scotch. Beverly’s a good assistant. She puts up with my shit and gives it right back to me. As much as she annoys me, she organizes my whole life so I can’t complain.

I knock back the scotch with a grimace. My fucking life. What a goddamned mess. Suddenly, a pair of round, blue eyes flash into my mind and there it is. Of course.

I know who leaked the story. I remember her.

Quinn Taylor.

The numbness in my chest isn’t quite so numb remembering the way she looked up at me. The doe-eyed wanting in her expression. The rumblings of desire in my stomach that I haven’t felt in ages.

My hand curls into a fist and finally the numbness is gone, replaced with anger. I feel rattled. What had I said? I think my exact words were I’m trusting you.

God, what a fucking idiot I am. Here I thought I’d acted perfectly by leaving it in her hands instead of waiting on George myself. I’d insisted that an innocent third party was the best way to ensure the paparazzi that had been trailing my ass for the past two months wouldn’t spot Adleman and I in the same room together. My genius plan was biting us both in the ass.

“Mr. Adleman is on line one waiting for you,” Beverly calls out from behind my door.

“Got it!”

Polishing off my drink, I lift the receiver to my ear.

“George,” I greet him.

“What the hell is going on, Wesley? Is this some kind of scam? After your mysterious call last night, I drop the papers first thing, and this is what I see waiting on my desk?”

Shit, he’s really pissed.

“No, George. You know as well as I do this is the last thing I wanted — news of my father’s…condition getting out,” I reply, running my hand through my hair.

“I should call off this whole deal. You’re lucky to even be getting our offer with the state of your finances.”

“I’m aware of the situation overall, George. I’m sure you’re also aware of Hyatt’s desire to acquire our properties on Park Avenue and the deal that has already been signed, so our predicament remains. We’re in this together now unless you want a legal nightmare. Hyatt Marks Properties.”

He sighs heavily and I hear papers shuffling on his end. Then it stops and it is quiet for a few moments.

“We need to meet to discuss how to handle PR,” he says, finally.

“My assistant will send through my availabilities for tonight and tomorrow.” I rub my fingers against my temples, trying to fend off a growing headache.

“Wesley?” He prompts, his voice tired.

“Yes?”

“You better fix this. For the future of our company,” he says, and the line goes dead.

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