Page 45 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Did you never stop to wonder why I choose my clients so carefully? All of them—every single one—has had negative, borderline vicious experiences with the media.”

“Except Brendan Blake. He’s the media king on your board,” I declare candidly.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he’s become more cautious about his privacy in his later years. Either way, you will need to get through me to speak with each of Wildcard’s Grammy performers.”

“What do you want? An apology for doing my job? Angela Fahey Burke was the topic in the news. If it wasn’t me figuring it out, someone else would have. Would they have written it crucifying her abuser?”

“But was she prepared to have every vulture descend on her driveway? Again?” she presses.

I flinch. I’m reminded all over again of Ursula’s accusations. Carys Burke-Lennan may have more reason than most to despise my existence but even I’m not foolhardy enough to not recognize a second chance at redemption. “What do you want?”

Immediately, Carys lists, “An apology to Angela in person the day of the interview. Plus, I get to approve your questions to The Rind, Z, and Brendan.”

I haven’t become as successful as I have to not counteroffer. “Except one. I get to choose one question.”

Carys is no fool. She immediately counters, “Which they have the right to refuse.”

“Deal.” I fall on the offer like a person protecting his fellow combatants from a hand grenade.

Satisfaction laces her voice. “I’ll draw up the paperwork and have it sent to?”

I rattle off our office information, wondering if she’ll recognize the address.

Carys picks up on it immediately. “Should I check my windows for microphones?”

“Nothing to fear. I’m afraid of falling.”

In a taunting purr, she says, “I’ll remember that.”

Silence is my only response. She concludes our call with, “I look forward to finally meeting you, Mr. Ronan. I suspect it will be quite the experience.”

She’s chuckling in my ear as I press End. For just a moment, I wonder what it would be like for that barracuda to be in my corner instead of the opposing one.

Never going to happen but it’s an interesting thought.

Turning around, I toss my phone into the air in a show of forced carelessness and boast to Hastings, “It’s all in how you handle a woman.”

He guffaws. “She had you by the balls, Ronan.”

“True. Very true. Which is why we’ve got to dig deep and sharpen our knives for that one question Carys Burke-Lennan has no control over.”

The two of us begin to brainstorm even as we do what we do best—research.

Though most would call it prying into people’s lives.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Good chocolate is everywhere because it exists. But great chocolate is as rare as a man that doesn’t lie. When you find one, hold onto him with both hands.

I treated myself to La Maison du Chocolat today.

I still haven’t found the man.

I’m good with what I’ve got.

—Moore You Want

Days later, I’m quakingin my wingtips as I wait in the LLF, LLC conference room.