Page 92 of Salvaged Hearts

“It probably helps that she ran the PR team for a while. She knew what being with a man like us entailed.”

A man like us.What an intriguing concept. Royce owned a media company uptown. Technically, he was a competitor, but we’d formed a casual alliance at a charity golf tournament a few years back and would connect for a round every now and then. His father was still alive and well, an active member of their board of directors, despite his attempted retirement a few years back. We’d briefly considered acquiring the Ashcroft group but ultimately decided against it.

“She never really seemed to care what they had to say about her. Doesn’t pay much attention unless it’s a client they’re blasting.”

“All the better,” he said. “They can be vicious when they want to be. Miranda let her guard down once with one of our chefs, who took pertinent information to the press. We pressed charges since she had violated her NDA. But…it didn’t erase the damage done, and she’s kind of stuck to herself since. Can’t really trust anyone these days.”

“Brutal,” I noted. “Alice is a good woman. Salt of the earth. I would be beyond shocked if she ever did anything to hurt a moth, much less a mother.”

“That’s what Miranda said. She just has this gut instinct that we’re all supposed to do something together, although she can’t place her finger on what.”

“You should have seen her with the puppy Friday. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so distraught over an animal.”

“My girl’s the same way. We have six rescues.”

“Six?!” I balked, barely reeling in exactly how appalling that concept was. Two was more than plenty. To my relief, Royce laughed.

“Yep. Got a whole pack. Listen, Greyson—” He tugged on his neck, and I braced for the inevitable. Usually, when someone initiates contact, they need something, especially when they pull out my first name. Like they knew me when they didn’t. I just hadn’t heardwhatyet. “I bought a table at the Performing Arts silent auction next month, and I’ve got four seats still sitting open. I haven’t run it by the wife, but judging by that,” he motioned toward where our girls were now enamored with a spoon art jewelry vendor. All the money for the finest accessories in the world, and these two wanted warped spoons. “I think it’s safe to say we’d love for the two of you to join.Already paid for—you’d just be saving my pride by filling the seats.”

Chuckling, I said, “I’ll have to run it by her, but I’ll take a wild guess and say as long as the calendar is open, she would enjoy that.”

“I’ll send you the details,” he promised.

“Sounds good.”

“I hope this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”

“The sentiment is shared,” I agreed amicably. The strange part was that it felt authentic.

It wasn’tuntil we were home, and Alice tucked herself into her art room, that I finally fished my phone from my pocket and dialed Reggie’s number. Grinding my teeth, I counted all four rings before his gruff answer.

“Christ, it’s about time.”

“Is Emmaline okay?” I asked flatly. No doubt Ellington would tell me if anything was actually wrong.

“What?”

“Answer the question. Is Emma okay?”

“Yes, but?—”

I cut him off, unwilling to entertain whatever scheme he’d concocted to re-enter our lives. “What about Ellington? Was he in a life-altering accident I don’t know about?”

“No. Don’t be rid?—”

“Aunt Viv?” I snapped. “Gwen or the babies?” I pressed. My cousin and his wife were due with twins any day now. It’s why the old fucker flew to France in the first place.

“All fine,” he ground out. “But, Grey?—”

“It’sGreysonto you.”

“You can’t be serious.” His snarl was deeply satisfying, accompanied by the mental image of that vein in his forehead pulsing.

“And yet, here I am. Listen, Reginald. We’ve said all we need to say to each other at this point. Obviously, this isn’t about business, or you would’ve sent it over official channels.”

“I have information you might find beneficial,” he declared snootily. I just laughed.

“Then I look forward to hearing it when you present it to the board next month.”

---