Page 92 of Renegade Ruin

I give the room another once over, searching for any other viable option before succumbing to my fate and rounding the desk. It’s a tight fit, but I manage to curl up enough that my head and most of my torso are crammed in the small square. All I can do is pray Willow keeps whoever is at the door on the opposite side of the desk.

“Come in?” Willow hollers.

“You alone? I thought I heard voices.” I recognize the sweet voice belonging to our public relations director, Nikki.

“I was on call,” Willow lies with ease.

“Oh good. I was worried about you after the meeting. It was—Well, let’s just say I wasn’t expecting it to go that way.”

What meeting did she have this morning? And with who? Is that why she was on the verge of tears when she showed up?

Willow sighs. “That makes two of us. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised, but I was hoping for better.”

“They’re good plans, Willow. I know you and I aren’t close by any means—and forgive me for speaking candidly—but thosecrotchety old bastards don’t know what they are talking about. Your father would have been proud of what you’re trying to do.”

Plans? What plans? And which crotchety old bastards are going to be meeting the business end of my fist for making her cry?

“Thank you for saying so,” Willow offers, but by her voice she doesn’t sound convinced. “Was there something I can help you with?”

“Oh, yes.” There’s a shuffling of papers before Nikki continues. “After the meeting, I went to my office and brainstormed for the interview with Bishop.”

What fucking interview?

I jerk up and hit my head on the top of the desk and silently curse, while Willow sends herself into a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” Nikki asks. “Do you need some water?”

Seething, I silently lean into the front of the desk, as if that will somehow make it easier to hear the conversation.

“No, I’m fine,” Willow chokes out. “Just something tickling the back of my throat.”

She definitely did have something in the back of her throat five minutes ago, though I’m surprised she was able to swallow past the lies she tells.

Because you always tell her the truth right off the bat.

Great, the peanut gallery is back.

But for once, they aren’t spitting truths. I might not have given Willow a chance right after the crash, but I’ve given her all my worries since we started this arrangement. I’m not in the wrong to expect her to have done the same. Especially when it has to do with me. We were supposed to do this together.

Neither Jackson nor Tommy has a response, whichhurts infinitely more, because it confirms I’m right.

Willow chose to shut me out.

“I’ll leave these with you,” Nikki says. “You can review the list of topics we will and won’t allowThe Foul Linereporter to ask about. It might also ease Bishop’s mind when you inform him of the plan.”

It absolutely won’t. Nothing she says could possibly dislodge the knife of betrayal in my back.

Are you mad she agreed to the interview for you or that she didn’t tell you?

Both.

If there’s anyone I expected to understand why I don’t want to talk to the press, it’s Willow. She’s seen me at my worst. How the hell could she agree to put me in front of a camera when I can barely talk with her about how I’m feeling?

“Thank you, Nikki. I really appreciate this.” The defeat in Willow’s voice is evident. She knows I heard every word.

“I’m here to help. Whatever you need.”

“Sounds good.”

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