Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“He mentioned something strange,” Madison murmurs. “About Metis Incorporated.”
Miraculously, her words interrupt my thoughts of claiming her. Or, at least, they push the thoughts to the back of my mind. Metis is Trent’s company, the one we’re merging with. I wait for my woman to go on. Yeah, my woman. I’m done fighting that. I can’t stop myself from categorizing her that way. It feels true.
“You can back out of this now if you want,” she says, finally holding my gaze.
It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what it is about her, but she seems so determined, so ready for battle. She’s going to be an incredible journalist. Hell, she already is, and she’s only going to get better.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. She doesn’t know how true that is.
“This is the second dog-theft operation Philip was involved in.”
“I thought he told you he didn’t know it was a dog-theft ring.”
“He lied. It was eating him up, he said. He had to share the truth, but he made me promise not to publish his name.”
“What did he say about Metis?” I ask.
“A freelance journalist was investigating the first dog-theft operation. Apparently, this journalist had a contract with one of Metis’ online publications. Everything was ready to go. The story was prepared, but then, just like that…”
She snaps her fingers, getting into the zone. It brings to mind an image of her in an office, addressing her employees with confidence and compassion and the will to change the world.
“The story went away,” she goes on. “Philip spoke with the journalist. He was cagey. He didn’t want to talk about it. He shouted at Philip when he tried to take it further. That’s why he’s so nervous about speaking with me.”
“We need to figure out why this journalist dropped the story,” I say, as possibilities present themselves to me.
Did Metis—and therefore Trent—crush the story? Trent has shown himself to be far less concerned with the truth than he should be. It’s possible, and bad news for the deal, for the millions already spent in legal fees, for my business partner, Brad, who’s far more enthusiastic about rushing the deal through than me.
“We?” Madison whispers. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this? It could mess up your deal.”
“If the deal is based on lies,” I growl, “it’s worth messing up.”
She leans back. “Whoa.”
Her lips are too kissable as she stares at me. My palms against my legs, I focus on the pressure, taming my touch to stop my need from taking over.
“Whoa… what?”
“Most CEOs wouldn’t be so cavalier about throwing a billion-dollar deal in the trash.”
“The truth is all that matters,” I snarl. “It’s the bottom line. It’s the only line. Once a journalist crosses it, everything unravels. We’re nothing more than propaganda agents. I refuse to let that happen to my business.”
“But if you go sneaking around Metis…”
“It’s cute how much you care about me,” I tease lightly, but she’s not in a teasing mood.
“It’s not cute, and it’s not that I care about you, Jacob. It’s like you said. The truth.”
A pause, and then she says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“So, you do care about me?”
She rolls her eyes. It seems flirtatious, but then it’s also possible I’m reading into her every tiny gesture, every quirk of her personality drawing me in.
“I shouldn’t have snapped, but this is a big deal.”
“It is,” I agree, “and I know you will get to the truth.”
“I know how much that means to you,” she replies.
“Probably as much as it means to you,” I say. “Is your next stop the journalist?”
She nods. “I’ll arrange a meeting soon.”
“Don’t tell him you want to meet about this,” I reply. “If he’s the sort of man to bury a story, he’ll probably refuse to speak with you.”
“He’ll probably refuse anyway,” she murmurs. “It’s Wayne Dalton. He’s big time… at least compared to me.”
She hangs her head, sighing. It’s too much to handle, seeing her like this, a hint of defeat in her ready-for-battle demeanor. Reaching over, I softly touch her chin and turn her head so she’s facing me.
She lets out a short, moaning breath of air as if she feels it too. Even if it’s only a piece, a fraction of what I’m feeling, it means she wants me, us. Maybe not all of it. Maybe she’d freak if I dragged her from the car, knelt down, and asked the question that will seal us together forever.
No, not maybe. That’s a guarantee.
“You’re not small compared to anybody,” I tell her.
She laughs darkly. “Don’t worry. I’m well aware of that.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “I thought you were getting down on yourself for a second there.”
“No, I mean. Small… I know I’m not that.”
I stare, still not understanding.
She hasn’t mentioned how strange it is, me touching her like this. Does that imply it feels as natural to her as it does to me?