Page 34 of My Cowboy Valentine

“He asked me to deliver photos of your new line along with the tech pack. Not for corporate espionage, but to allow him to evaluate whether he wanted to move forward with the plan…”

“The plan?” My voice has a new steeliness, and I cross my arms firmly over my chest, utterly gutted.

“Yes, the plan to force you to go public so that he can gobble up a majority share in your brand. He did the same thing to me…” She stops, rubbing her temples with her fingers and breathing hard.

“Well, shit,” I manage, my voice breaking at the end. My heart feels ripped clean from my chest. More than any of the details of what she says, what kills me is realizing the one person I want to count on most in this world betrayed me. Fuck.

After a tense moment, she levels her gaze on me, biting her bottom lip hard. “I don’t know if you’ve done your research, but The Red Brand is tanking. I’m a failure. Everything I’ve done is a disappointment, and I no longer have majority ownership in my company. It’s pathetic. I never, ever wanted to agree to Pharrell’s plan, but you and I both hated each other at the time. The day before, you had me escorted from the company in handcuffs. I was desperate to get Red back and also ready to get back at you. So, I entertained Pharrell’s request more thoroughly than I ever should have. Nevertheless, the hypocrisy of doing to you what was done to me proved too difficult to swallow.”

I clench my teeth so tightly, the enamel screams, and the muscles in my jaw strain. “So, you sent the photos to Pharrell?”

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t go through with it…even though I told myself I hated you, and even though you were a total jerk on day one. Still, as stupid as I thought you and my brother were for starting Jameson & Cash, I couldn’t double-cross you.”

My eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“Because I know better than anyone how it feels to be on the receiving end... Having Pharrell steal my company out from under me destroyed my creativity. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rekindle it. And then once things started happening between us, and I realized how much you mean to me?—”

“Show me your phone right now. I want to see all of your texts with this Pharrell guy.”

She nods, sighing and disappearing into the back. Reappearing moments later, she hands her unlocked phone to me, and I swipe through their exchanges. God, has she said some nasty things in recent days, especially about me.

But I remind myself these comments came before we slept together…even before we kissed for the first time. I check the dates, verifying this. And to my relief, I don’t see any photos, although God knows there are a million other ways she could have delivered the images to him.

My mind swirls as I rise, declaring, “I need to go for a ride.” Without looking back at her, I grab my jacket and storm towards the front door, desperate for space to clear my head and sort out the tangle of emotions her confession inspired. Behind me, Red mutes her sobs, saying nothing.

Four hours later, I realize the stupidity of my last move as I enter the darkened kitchen. Red’s rental car is gone, and her clothes have disappeared along with all other signs of the woman I’ve loved for as long as I can remember. A scrap of whitebinder paper on the counter with my mom’s ring poised on top reads:

Ronald,

Please find a way to forgive me. I can’t live without you. But I have to fix what I started.

Lesley

P.S. You promised to never stop…

Chapter Sixteen

RED

One six-hour flight and three days later, I storm into Raphael Pharrell’s tenth-story New York City office overlooking Central Park, my heart pounding like I’ve run a marathon. Something tells me I’m about to have security called and face another handcuffed escort. It’s the last thing I need for my tattered public reputation. Today’s headlines say it all.

Trouble in Paradise? Rowdy Jameson Caught Smooching Employee

Cougar Leaves Her Cub? The Latest Dish on Red Cash and Rowdy Jameson

Rowdy Jameson Unhinged: Threatens to Shoot Journalists

“Ms. Cash,” the immaculately groomed, gray-haired man snarls, holding his hands fingertip-to-fingertip in front of his face like Mr. Burns fromThe Simpsons. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Mr. Pharrell, I’m done with you. I’m done with your manipulations and machinations, and I won’t allow you tocontrol me any longer. Even if it means walking away with nothing.”

He laughs, sitting back in his chair. “So, you want to save your soul, huh? It’s a little too late for that, I’m afraid. You’re in this neck deep, Ms. Cash. Pardon my blunt delivery, but there’s no escaping now.”

“Yes, there is. I give up. Take everything. Pillage my company. You’ve already destroyed the creativity driving it. You win. I quit.”

“Quit?” He sits up, disturbed for the first time since our conversation began.

I nod firmly. “Yes, I quit. Red is yours. Good luck. But you’ll steal Jameson & Cash over my dead body.”

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