Page 304 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

Marly’s been with the company … with me, almost since the company began. I have no illusions about it: Stingray wouldn’t have been anywhere near as successful as it is if it weren’t for her.

I never thought she’d betray me like that.

Taking one more sip of scotch, I walk back to my desk and press the intercom button.

“Yes, Mr. Scipio?” Darla, my assistant, asks.

“Could you send Malcolm in?” I ask.

“Yes, Mr. Scipio,” she says.

A moment later, the door opens.

I’ve been going over this in my head since Malcolm told me what Marly had been up to behind my back. At first, I didn’t want to believe him, but when I got the call from the board …

“Mr. Scipio,” Malcolm says, opening my office door, “you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, Malcolm,” I say. “Come on in and shut the door, would you?”

I could be angry at Marly for going behind my back and putting my position in jeopardy, and I am. I could mourn the loss of her from the company, and I am. Right now, though, I have to stay focused.

Along with losing a mentor, I’ve also lost my insider. Whenever I wanted to take the board’s temperature on something, I’d call Marly. Whenever someone under me started scheming for my job, Marly told me about it.

I need a new mole.

“Have a seat,” I tell Malcolm. “Do you know why you’re here?” I ask.

“No,” he says.

“Well,” I say, “I’ve got something I want to run by you. Before I do, though, I want to impress upon you how crucial it is that this conversation stays between us. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Of course, sir,” he says. “I’d never betray your confidence.”

“Yeah,” I say, leaning back in my chair and smiling. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out, because if this is going to work, I’m going to have to tell you everything.”

* * *

Malcolm gotthrough our discussion without rending his garments, so I’m tentatively looking at it as a successful meeting. He had a lot of questions, as I expected he would, but he seemed to handle everything okay.

As I’m leaving the office, I give Grace a call.

“Hey,” she says, answering the phone.

“Hey, you all right?” I ask. “You sound stressed.”

“I made the mistake of switching on the television for the first time in about a year,” she says. “They’re still plastering my face in the news. What’s better, apparently someone from town sent in a picture of me from high school, so I look like I’m about a decade younger than I am.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about that,” I tell her. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

“Yeah, well, it’s how it goes, I guess,” she says and sighs.

I get down to the car, and Trevor opens my door. Getting in, I tell Grace, “I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t know if this is something you’d consider or not, but I have a house out on Long Island. It’s just a beach house, really, but it’s away from the city, away from the press. I thought maybe you’d prefer staying there over—”

“If it’s not Manhattan, you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says.

Part of me wants to tell Grace how Manhattan’s not all that bad as long as you can stay away from the press, but I think better of it. “I’m leaving the office now,” I tell her. “Why don’t I invite a few friends who’ve been through this sort of thing over tonight and maybe we can figure out the best way past this. What do you think?”

“Just nothing big,” she says. “I’m fine if it’s a few people, but I’m not in the mood to meet a whole lot of people.”

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