Page 191 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

Finally, she pulls away, and dabs at her eyes with a tissue she produced from her desk.

“You’re good at ruining my makeup,” she jokes.

I laugh, and she giggles a bit too eagerly. I realize this is all I’m going to get from her for now. She needs time to process what I’ve just said. Needs time to come to her own conclusion.

I’m not going to force it.

She’ll take me back when she’s good and ready.

And I’m fine with that.

I glance at her laptop. She was likely deep in ‘work’ mode before I walked in. Hell, half her mind is probably still there.

So instead I shift gears. I hadn’t intended to talk about the company, but... “Would you like to speak about Maxwell & Briggs?”

“Please,” she says enthusiastically, confirming my intuition.

“Or should I say, the company formerly known as Maxwell & Briggs,” I continue. “There’s not going to be a Briggs in it any more. I’ll need a new name, I suppose. Maybe...” I’m about to suggest Maxwell & Taylor, but that feels too premature. I don’t want to scare her away, not when I’ve barely clawed my way back into her good graces. If I even have.

“Maxwell Capital?” I suggest.

She nods. “It’s as good a name as any.”

“All right, Maxwell Capital it is. My company needs you, Sabrina. More than ever.”AndIneed you, more than ever.“Luca walking out… it’s a fucking mess. But it’s also an opportunity. To rebuild. To redefine.”

“About that...” It’s her turn to swallow nervously. “You could choose any other PR firm. Maybe you don’t... maybe you don’t need me.”

My heart drops. Is she rejecting me, after everything I told her? After bleeding my heart out to her?

“No,” I say. “I just want you, your firm alone. No others. Look, I can’t do it without you. You know this case better than any other consultant. You knowme. Please. I need this. I need you.” I gesture vaguely between us. “I don’t want anyone else, Sabrina. Only you. Only Taylor Strategic Communications.”

She takes a shaky breath, her dark eyes searching mine. “Leo, I… I was going to quit.”

The admission hangs between us.

My heart is pounding now. “Quit?”

“Yes, after today’s press conference. I even had the email ready. I just… I couldn’t do it anymore. Spinning the wingsuiting narrative as positive. My heart wasn’t in it. I realize now that I can’t spin a narrative I don’t believe in.”

“And now?” I ask, my voice barely audible, holding my breath.

You can’t do this.

After everything.

Please don’t.

Please believe in second chances.

The ball is entirely in her court.

My entire fucking future,ourfuture, hangs on her next words.

49

Sabrina

Leo’s question hangs in the air of my tiny Brooklyn office/bedroom.

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