Page 23 of Handsome Devil
Wrong, buddy.
Seriously. Where didhe get off thinking he could talk down to me? Like he was so beyond reproach?
Maybe I was no billionaire, but at least I’d never starred in a leaked sex tape.
Yeah, yeah, so his family-owned corporate conglomerate owned my beloved agency. I’d diligently researched this fact last night and disturbingly, it was all true. Janelle Gorman had sold us to Superior, which was in fact owned by Global One, a Toronto-based media company that was owned by… drum roll… Valhalla Media Group… which was owned by Dane’s family. His grandmother and his mother owned Valhalla, technically, but yes, Dane was Senior VP of the entire fucking empire, and he would own it one day.
I was pretty sure his dibs on my agency were a little more iron clad than the boozy, empty promises offered to me by Janelle Gorman.
Especially now that she’d been… fired?
But so fucking what.
I earned my job, over eleven years of hard work, and I wasn’t going anywhere. He lived in Toronto anyway, and if you mapped it all out on a flow chart—I did, and it took me hours, but I figured it out—there were more than a dozen people between his position and mine. Like if we were playing Telephone up that corporate ladder and I uttered the wordsasshole boss, it would come out on his end asyou’re the best. There was no real connection between us.
He was in town for a few days for the gala on the weekend, and there was no need for me to ever see him again beyond yesterday.
That was what I told myself last night, many, many times, so I could sleep. Barely.
Also, if it turned out that the Lord was kind enough to grant the teeny, tiny favor I begged of Her last night, Dane Davenport wouldn’t even bother dropping by the agency to meet the rest of the staff, as Janelle had invited him to. And if he did, maybe I’d just happen to choose that moment to scoot out the back door for an emergency colonic irrigation or some other dire necessity that would be lightyears more enjoyable than seeing his face again, until he cleared out. He wouldn’t stay long, anyway.
He had other, more important things to do, right?
Right.
I hurried up the block, carefully navigating the wet sidewalk in my heels. I clung to my umbrella and tried to check my phone without dropping it, as it dinged with incoming texts.
Chaz:Are you bringing scones?
Chaz:Also… Janelle just got fired!!!!!!!!
Ugh. I slowed down to text him back.
Me:Are you at the office? Why didn’t you warn me??
Seriously, theonemorning he beat me to the office, and nothing.
Chaz:Just found out!!
Chaz:Bring scones!!! I need carbs.
Chaz:Also… some guy from head office is here!!!!!
No.
I stopped dead. Fucking no.
In the office? Right now?
I called Chaz, but he didn’t answer.Goddamnit.Chaz and his dramatic texts with all the exclamation points. Was there any chance he was referring to someone other than Dane Davenport?
Did I really have to deal with this?
My head was throbbing dully. I maybe should’ve skipped the double shot in my morning latte. I’d been up half the night pounding red wine and Googling Valhalla Media Group, Dane Davenport, and everything I could find on his sex tape scandal. I really hadn’t slept much.
I never used to get red wine hangovers, but shit, turning twenty-nine did something to a girl.
I tried calling Janelle again. Voicemail.
