Page 21 of Love so Hot

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but then again, not really." My voice is smooth despite the hour, a smirk playing on my lips. "After all, I pay you enough to answer my calls whenever."

Her chuckle crackles through the line, unfazed. "That's fair, Lawrence. What's so urgent?"

"Have you seen the latest news circus?" I ask, flopping back onto the bed. The ceiling seems to spin with the weight of public opinion pressing down on me.

"About your... eventful protest appearance?" There's an edge of humor in her voice that tells me she's seen it all right.

"Exactly. So, what's the grand plan to fix this mess?" I prop myself up on an elbow, waiting for her salvation spiel.

There's a momentary pause, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her head. "Honestly, I'm not sure what we can do about this one," she admits, and I can tell it's killing her to say it.

"Wrong answer." I let out a low growl. "You're supposed to be the miracle worker. Try again."

"Lawrence," she chides, and I can picture her rubbing the bridge of her nose, "these things take time to strategize."

"Time is a luxury we don't have." I throw an arm over my eyes, feeling the frustration bubble.

I toss my phone from one hand to the other, getting up to pace the length of my darkened office. The moonlight filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the floor, like prison bars that trap me in this mess.

"Lawrence, listen. We're fighting an uphill battle here." She pauses, and I can almost hear her weighing her next words. "And you showing up at the peaceful protest holding a chainsaw might not have been the best idea."

"Come on, Em," I scoff, throwing myself back down onto the bed. "You were congratulatory for how I handled things just hours ago."

"I said what I needed to say because you pay me a lot of money," she counters, her tone flat, "and you seemed quite pleased with yourself. Until the media frenzy, there was no reason to burst your bubble."

The air hisses out of me. "So now I'm the bad guy for defending my property?" I ask, though I know the answer.

"Look, I get it," she says, a hint of steel entering her voice. "But let's be real—brandishing a chainsaw isn't exactly the image we want. You're supposed to be the charismatic leader, not a horror movie villain."

"Fine," I grumble, staring up at the ceiling. "Then work your PR voodoo, Em. What's the grand plan to spin this?"

Emily's quiet for a moment. "Well, I do have one idea, but..." She hesitates, and I sit up, alert. "There's no easy way out of this, and I don't think you're going to like it."

"Spit it out." I'm growing impatient.

"You need to drop the charges against Willow Harper," she finally says.

My temper flares, hot and swift. "You're right, I don't like it." My voice is a growl now, low and dangerous. "She trespassed. She broke the law."

"Maybe so," Emily replies coolly, unfazed by my outburst. "But right now, you're the one looking like the villain. We need to change the narrative. Dropping the charges is the first step."

I grit my teeth. "So, basically, I'm the Big Bad Wolf for wanting to protect my property?" I can't keep the sarcasm from dripping off every syllable.

"Metaphorically speaking," Emily's voice crackles through the speakerphone, "they've got the pitchforks and torches ready. Figuratively."

"Fantastic. Fine, I'll drop the charges." I toss the clicker onto the dresser, watching it clatter against the glass surface. "But I don’t have to smile while doing it."

"Of course not," she replies, that 'I've got another bomb to drop' tone creeping into her voice. "But that's not the part you're going to hate."

"Hit me with it." I brace myself, as if her words are going to physically fly out of the phone and smack me in the face. "What could possibly be worse than playing nice with the eco-warrior princess?"

"We leverage this situation. Use it to get Willow Harper to stop being such a thorn in our side." I can practically hear her tapping a finger against her chin, plotting.

"Right, because she's just going to pack up her tie-dye shirts and drift off into the sunset because I say 'pretty please.'" I roll my eyes at the ceiling.

"Or," I continue, "her pal River takes over, and trust me, that guy doesn't do peaceful. He's one step away from chaining himself to a bulldozer."

"Exactly," Emily confirms. "We can't risk that. It's better to deal with the devil you know than the one who might start a riot. Which is why," she begins in a tone that suggests she's about to unveil the grand prize behind door number one, "I think we should consider an... arrangement."

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