Page 293 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

“I have some things to work out here before I can go,” I tell her. “Book me something for tomorrow, and—”

“What about your jet?” she asks. “Malcolm said you were belt-tightening.”

“No,” I tell her. “It just doesn’t make a lot of sense to burn all that jet fuel when it’s only taking a couple of people and me. Creating a cleaner environment is all our responsibility.”

“Yeah, that would have been a lot more believable before you told me to give you the number of my ‘plane guy’ so you’d have something ‘to get from A to B,’ don’t you think?” she asks.

The problem with Marly is that she never forgets anything. She insists she has a “normal” memory, but I don’t think I’ve gotten away with anything since I met her.

I tell her, “Yeah, but if I jump right on the corporate jet the day we’re down twelve points—”

“Nineteen,” she says. “We’ve dropped seven in the last hour.”

I grit my teeth. “You remember a few years ago when I took that month-long vacation in Denmark?” I ask. “If I recall right, our stock was way up by the time I got back. What’s the problem this time?”

“Going to Denmark didn’t make you a liability,” she says. “This time, people care if you’re heading the company because you’ve learned how not to kill a business.”

“Calm down,” I tell her. “I may pay you for your honesty, but that doesn’t mean you have to grab a shovel.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that means,” she says. “I’ll get you on a plane in the morning, but you’re going to have to start listening to me, or we’re in some serious trouble, all right?”

“All right,” I tell her. “Oh, by the way …”

Marly rolls her eyes. “What?” she asks.

“Well aren’t you a bowl of grapefruit this morning?” I ask.

“Yeah, I don’t know what that means, either,” she says. “Is there anything else? I’ve got to go put out some fires you started.”

Part of the reason I’ll never fire Marly is if she ever writes a book, my career is over.

“Get two tickets,” I tell her. “I’m going to ask Grace to come with me.”

“Things are going well then?” she asks.

“You could say that,” I answer.

Marly sighs and gets to her feet. She says, “Just don’t burn the company and everyone in it for her; promise me.”

“I’m not looking to burn anything,” I answer. “Do you need a minute to put on your scared face?”

“Oh please,” Marly says. A moment later, her eyebrows are going up in the middle, and her bottom lip is quivering. Two more seconds pass and there are tears in her eyes.

“You’re too good at that,” I tell her.

“I just think about what this company’s going to look like in a year and what can I say? The tears just start flowing,” she whispers. Then, for the first time since she’s closed the door, Marly speaks at her normal volume, saying, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I’m so sorry for letting you down, sir.”

“Wait,” I whisper. “What are you going to tell them this meeting was about.”

“Something I don’t want to talk about because it’s just so,” her breath catches in the most convincing fake sob I’ve heard from her in a while. I get the point.

“Go,” I say. “Do.”

She opens the door, sniffing loudly to draw just enough attention and she’s on her way to put out another fire.

* * *

By the timeI’m headed back to the room, I’m exhausted. Fortunately, I’m so overflowing with stress I hardly feel it. When I open the door, though, for a moment at least, all that tension fades.

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