Page 21 of The Mogul: Leonard

“Jesus, what happened? Not even a hello?” he chuckles.

I don’t even have an excuse for my rudeness. Being angry with Oliver doesn’t justify my shitty attitude with someone else. “I’m sorry, just having a bad day, but I shouldn’t take out my frustrations on you,” I murmur.

He sighs and softens his voice. “What happened? You seem agitated. Did you kill someone? Should we have this conversation in person?”

I can hear the smile in his tone but also the worried suspicion typical of a lawyer doing his job.

“No, nothing so serious. I need you to call a magazine and help me take down some pictures of a woman and me,” I summarize.

The silence on the other side is long enough to make me nervous.

“Are they compromising? Are you or her naked or caught in a sex act?” He is definitely worried.

“Fuck, no! I’m not into public sex or anything like that. We were just dancing at a party,” I explain.

The silence returns, and my worries skyrocket.

“That’s it? What’s the problem then?”

“We both look like we’re seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off,” I murmur, ashamed.

“Did you?”

“No, but that’s not the point. She’s Raphael’s little sister-in-law. I want them gone!” I spit out.

“Is she an adult? Or are we talking about a minor?” This time I can almost feel his concern on my skin.

“Sweet Jesus, no! She is twenty-five. Who do you think I am?”

“Just asking, you never know. But if you’re just dancing, don’t worry about it. They’ll forget about it in a couple of days, and you’ll be fine.”

My stomach sinks. “I don’t want to leave them out there for everyone to see. I want them gone!”

He sighs, this time in frustration. “Do you want my professional opinion or what?”

“I want you to solve this problem.”

“I’m doing it. If you push against the magazine, it will have the opposite effect.” His stern tone is trying to dissuade me.

“I’m not paying you to do a publicist’s job. I’m asking you to fix this thing and make those photos disappear. Money is not a problem,” I bark.

The line goes dead. I look at my phone, baffled, and call him again.

“Did you just hang up on me? How dare you!”

The anger simmering in my gut is almost boiling over. Could this morning get any worse?

“Yes, I did, and I’ll do it again if you don’t stop acting like a fifteen-year-old,” he states firmly.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I’m saving you from a huge mess. You’ll thank me when you sober up enough to think clearly. The best way to make those pictures disappear is to not give them a reason to go viral,” he says before hanging up again.

This time, I don’t call him back. The problem is that he’s right, but those photos are a stark reminder that I should feel guilty looking at her like that. It doesn’t matter that she is looking at me in the same way. It’s just wrong to want her in that way, and I wish I could go back to that moment and do the right thing.

“I’m not fucking Roxanne,” I tell Raphael as soon as he enters the cigar room at the Hunting Club.

He frowns. “I’m glad to hear that, but I think that’s between the two of you.”

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