“Yeah, him. I’ll tell you what—someone needs to kick that kid’s ass.”
“Dad, he must be a forty-year-old man by now.”
“Does he know that?”
Piper’s mother intervened at last. “Well, she’s not going to tell him, hon. Piper’s not talking to Kyle anymore. Remember? She has a new boyfriend now.”
“And thank the Lord for that. You didn’t contort yourself for him, did you?”
Piper sat down heavily, the fight seeping out of her like it had never been there. “I did. I molded myself right into his life.”
Her mom met her husband’s eyes over Piper’s head. “I’m not sure I'd say that, Piper. Maybe you were just trying to love a difficult man the best way you knew how.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough,” she grumbled sourly.
Her father held her mom’s gaze but told Piper, “You’re wrong. Love is always enough. Love is…everything.”
Piper looked between them, scowling. “What has gotten into you two today? Why are you suddenly being so philosophical?”
Her dad shifted his heavy stare to her. “We don’t like to see you this way, kid.”
“I’m fine.”
“You aren’t.” He hesitated, then pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. “I talked to Perry, you know. After we saw all that nonsense on TV.”
“So much for attorney-client privilege,” Piper groused.
“He didn’t divulge any details,” he assured her. “But I asked him about that character you were involved with. Just to see what he thought.”
Piper shot up so fast, her chair cracked into the wall behind her. “Oh, great,” she said. “Listen—I can’t hear this right now. There’s absolutely nothing you can say that I haven’t already told myself, okay?”
Her mother steadied her with a hand on her arm. “Hear him out, Piper.”
“Why? So, he can point out how stupid I was to fall for a man like that?”
“Kid, you are many things, but stupid ain’t one of ’em,” her father fired back. “Hell, look at what you’ve done with your life so far. If you could make a whole career out of writing those silly books of yours, you’ve got a lot more on the ball than most folks.”
“Gee thanks, Dad.”
“Look…I don’t know the man, but it’s obvious that you care about him. So, after Perry and I talked, I checked the guy out. I have to say—I really think he cares about you, too. A man in his position just doesn’t do the things you blamed him for.”
“And how would you know?”
Her mother hissed, “Watch it, Piper Mae.”
Her dad patted the table. “All I’m saying is, if what you had with him was the real deal, you owe it to the guy to give him the benefit of the doubt. You owe it to yourself.”
“It wasn’t,” Piper said. “The real deal.”
“Did you ever hear him out?”
“I didn’t need to.”
“In that, Piper Mae, we disagree. You’ll never get over this if you don’t.”
THIRTY-FIVE
RED WASN’T USUALLY in the habit of thanking his lucky stars for a shitty night’s sleep, not unless it involved a roll in the hay with Piper Mae Fulham, that was.
However, this morning he was grateful for the grinding weariness in his bones and his bloodshot eyes—they meant that he’d done everything in his power to prepare. When the questions came flying at him during the PKM board’s emergency conference call, he’d be ready for them.
“MacLellan, I’m sure you understand that this train wreck over at Trident has the potential to severely impact PKM’s main lines of business. It’s one of the reasons I advised so strongly against this acquisition last year.”
Red wasn’t surprised by the comment or the speaker. The same man had ‘advised strongly’ against Red taking the helm at PKM, too. Screw him.
“I’m aware, yes,” Red said. His throat felt like sandpaper. He motioned for Wayne to grab him some more coffee—though, at this point, it would probably only make him feel worse.
The disembodied voice coming from the console in the center of the conference room table wondered, “Well, what are you going to do about it?”
Another said, “Especially considering that most of what we discussed two weeks ago has now fallen apart.”
Red stared down at the bullet points on the paper in front of him, representing so much work by so many loyal people. Employees, sure—but also friends. He owed them, big time.
He placed his finger on the first point and dove in. “Let’s start with Rachel Wilbon,” he began. “The papers were correct in identifying her as the source of the leak. She confirmed that much to the D.A. However, my legal team uncovered a strict nondisclosure agreement buried in her contract that expressly forbade her from speaking to the media about any of Trident’s internal workings. We’ve been able to release her cleanly, without any threat of further legal repercussions.”
“Well, that was lucky,” someone said.
A reply came swiftly, “Was it? What about her Goldstein?”
“Who cares?” the first person retorted. “Rachel is a hack.”
“Red,” his father’s dearest friend interjected, “Why did Wilbon even have a nondisclosure?”
Red grinned. Old Claude had just played his role in this play perfectly, much as he used to do for Red’s dad.
“We think it was for two reasons. First, we learned that Rachel was in a romantic relationship with Jim Denton, who—you may remember—wrote for Trident under the pen name Phil Miller. He’s also John and Lisa’s only son. Rachel probably knew a lot of things they wished she didn’t.”
“I don’t even want to know how you found that out,” one woman muttered.
“Completely by accident,” Red assured her. “Nevertheless, we also discovered that the rumors of Rachel’s plagiarism were already percolating when she was up for the Goldstein. They undoubtedly wanted to keep that quiet. It seems the Dentons paid off the committee to make sure she won. Probably with the first of the stolen royalties.”
That juicy tidbit came courtesy of Red’s assistant, who sat, beaming, across from him. Once the Trident investors had begun jumping ship like a horde of diseased rats, poor Anika had been too swamped to pitch in.
Right on cue, a chorus of groans came over the intercom in front of him—and Red felt his first glimmer of hope. He glanced at Wayne, Anika, and Rob, arrayed across the conference table from him and ready for anything.
This could work. This was going to work.
“If that had gotten out, the Dentons would never have recovered,” Claude pointed out.
Exactly. And the love of Red’s life might’ve moved on to some other publisher, where Red might never have met her. It was hard to fathom.
“So why did Rachel let the cat out of the bag?”
Red explained, “I believe she was trying to save her job, plain and simple. Her contract stipulated that she was to provide Trident with a new manuscript within two years of Moon’s release, and she was already far past that deadline. PKM was pressuring her. She apparently thought that discrediting Trident might buy her more time to produce her next book.”
“Or find someone to steal it from,” Anika muttered sourly.
Red shook his head and dropped his finger to the next bullet point. “If there’s nothing else, let’s proceed to the next item—the Millhouse & Rock deal. Or rather, the dissolution of it.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” one board member sighed. “It always seemed too good to be true.”
Red rolled his eyes at Anika, who shot the intercom a manicured middle finger. He smiled and said, “M&R was never going to be the perfect fit for Trident, but they were high profile. At the time, that was going to work to our advantage. Now, however, I believe Trident will benefit from a different kind of arrangement.”
The one Piper wanted. The smart one—the deal Red ought to have gone for from the beginning. He’d gotten lucky on this, Red knew. He
’d only managed it because Anika had a friend, who had another friend—and that marvelous soul had set up a round of drinks in SoHo last night with two women he wished he’d met sooner.
Leigh Evans and Kiki Eastman, former book bloggers and founders of their own romance-only micro-chain of bookstores. They’d quickly moved from disbelief to deal-making, a quality that Red was completely in favor of. Talk about under the wire, though.
“What kind of arrangement are we talking?” someone asked cautiously.
God, they were playing into Red’s hands perfectly. Anika looked as smug as could be.
“We’ve drafted an agreement with Eva East Books, giving Trident’s romance titles priority placement in their stores and on their website. We’ll do signings and readings and there’s room to add in some merch, too. It’s a boon for us, and for them.”
The room was silent for a long, long moment. Finally, a man asked, “How in the hell did you swing that?”
Anika polished her perfect nails on her blazer and grinned broadly.
“I ran into Leigh and Kiki the other day,” Red said casually. “We got to talking and discovered that our interests align.” Well, he had got to begging and the ladies had got to laughing, but that hardly seemed relevant at this point.
Someone on the call snorted. Maybe two or three someones.
Red powered on. “Regardless, with your agreement, we can have this draft signed and back in the hands of their legal team later this morning. Wayne should’ve faxed you copies to review.”
There was a rustle of static as the board members shuffled through their packets for the meeting, followed by a flurry of commentary and questions as they debated the particulars.
At last, Anika leaned forward and nodded at Red. “Move to pass the Eva East agreement. All in favor say aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
A pause, and then a few more assents. Red waited for Anika to confirm the tally. She positively preened when she announced, “Motion to pass the Eva East agreement approved. Red, what’s the next item?”
Red fist-bumped his favorite lawyer in the world. “Now then,” he said. “As most of you know, we’ve already turned over everything we had regarding the Dentons and their mismanagement of royalties to the district attorney’s office.”
“What’s the status of that?”
“As I understand it, it’s going to drag on a while. In the meantime, we have a key author to compensate and a business to stabilize.”
“And here we go,” a woman drawled.
That’s right, Red thought. Here we go.
IN THE END, the board wasn’t too broken up about shedding nearly every imprint at Trident except romance, the true money-maker. The harder sell had been trying to convince them to postpone one of their pet projects at PKM until the case against the Dentons was resolved.
All his directors, it seemed, loved the flashy new tech PKM was testing—but they’d have to wait another fiscal year before they got to see a real demo. They’d live.
Their muttering about it was rapidly eclipsed, anyway, once Red recused himself from the final vote on the grounds that he was in a personal relationship with a particular Trident author. He had to endure some pointed questions about his timing and intentions before they finally let him up off the mat and got down to business.
Still, Red had done it. He and his finest employees had managed to pass all the resolutions they should’ve put together from the outset—and they’d done it on no sleep and a whole lot of flying without a net. He wished he could feel proud, but the truth was he shouldn’t have fucked it up to begin with.
When Rob finally sat forward to stab the button that disconnected the call, the team’s relief was palpable. Red flipped over his agenda, scrawled a few words across the back, and held it up for Wayne, Anika, and Rob to see.
“Raises for all my friends,” Rob read aloud.
“Huzzah!” Wayne crowed.
“About damn time,” Anika smiled.
Rob looked too tired to join in the celebration, but he did manage a half-hearted salute. Red could relate.
“All right, you guys. The rest of this crap can wait for a while. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you on Monday, and then we can hammer out the details. Okay?”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Rob murmured.
As they filed out, Wayne hung back a step to squint at Red. “Need anything else?”
A miracle. Red needed a bloody miracle now, but he suspected he’d already used up his allotment—for this life, and the next. He wracked his brain, trying to determine if there was anything else he could do.
“No thanks, I’m good,” he said.
HIS CELL BEGAN buzzing in his pocket just as Red headed down the hall to his office. He glanced at the screen and prepared to decline the call, but instead his eyebrows jacked up in surprise. Tate. What timing.
“Hey man.”
“Avon calling,” his friend sang.
“Sorry, dude. Bought at the office,” Red fired back.
There was a chuckle, a muttered curse, and another sound that Red really hoped wasn’t gunfire.
“You okay?” he wondered.
“Yeah, I’m tight. Listen, Luc told me what your week’s been like. What the fuck, Red.”
“You have no idea. I literally hung up with the board five minutes ago.”
“Those fuckers,” Tate growled. “What a bunch of crybabies.”
“Even so. I had to do my song and dance, and I did. There’s no going around them.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, brother. Never go around when you can plow straight through.”
“I know, T. I plowed. Believe me, I plowed.”
“Everything go okay?”
“Yeah. Seemed to,” Red said.
“A’ight,” Tate replied, all business. “Now. Luc and I want to know what you’re gonna do about your lady.”
Red groaned. “I mean—do you two fuckers just sit around gossiping about my pathetic ass all day? I would’ve thought you both had better things to worry about.” Like hospital crises. And bullets, for Christ’s sake.
“Quit your bitching. I don’t have a ton of time, here.”
“And I do?” Red balked.
“I know it sucks, but you have to go get her, buddy.”
“Easy for you to say. Piper’s not taking my damn calls, and unlike you, I don’t have an automatic weapon at my disposal to make her.”
“When did you become such a pussy?” his friend demanded. “This isn’t a phone call kind of mission. Get on your fancy little plane, march up to your woman, and fight to get her back. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Red sat and absorbed that for a minute, then wondered, “How is it that you always end up playing Bad Cop?”
“Because Luc can’t pull the shit off with his accent. Don’t act dense. You know he’s too sexy for Bad Cop.”
Red had a feeling Piper would have plenty to say about bad cops being sexy. She might even like to roleplay the hell out of the idea, as long as she got to be the arresting officer. But not now. Now, Red needed to focus.
He said to Tate, “Okay, then tell me when you became such a staunch advocate of love and romance.”
“The second it became important to you, motherfucker.”
Red blew out a long breath. Even from the Middle East, his old roommate could be a pain in his ass.
“Tate, it’s been a long day. I can’t do this with you right now.” The line crackled, and Red tried not to read too much into all the noise coming from Tate’s end.
“Me either, as it happens. Good Cop should be calling you later, when his shift’s over. Just…git er done, okay? I’ll check in soon.”
Red told him, “Be safe, brother.”
“Safety’s overrated,” Tate said, then hung up.
Red sat behind his desk and considered his options. He’d been intending to go home and sleep for about fourteen hours straight, but…somewhere due south of h
im was the woman he loved. She was, currently, exceedingly unhappy with him.
Not rest for the wicked, it seemed—sleep would have to wait. Red had a heart to mend first and pulling that out of his hat was going to be his most challenging deal yet.
Piper was worth it, though. She was so, so worth it.
THIRTY-SIX
PERRY ASKED HER, “Did you get it?” It was hard to miss the excitement in his voice. He might be a kindly old man, but he did love winning.
However, Piper was a touch contrary these days. “Get what?”
“The wire transfer,” he said, exasperated. “It should have gone through this morning.”
She sighed, “I’ll check.”
Piper called up the banking app on her phone, and there it was. Her account balance had ballooned, as if by some kind of unsavory magic. And, okay—that was definitely a lot of zeroes. Too late to save her family’s house, though. Too late to save her heart, either.
“Yup, all there,” she told her attorney. “Thanks, Perry.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
There was a weighty pause, and Piper didn’t need to guess what was coming next.
“Piper, you should talk to him. MacLellan.”
As if there was anyone else they’d be discussing? “I have no intention of doing that,” she said.
“I’m aware, but…”
She busied herself paying off a couple of bills and transferring some of her new funds into savings while her lawyer dithered.
Finally, Perry settled on, “I met with him, you know. When he came up with that Eva East rider for your contract.”
“Did you?” she inquired dully.
“I did. And I talked to him for quite a while. Red and his legal team shared some very interesting information with me about their internal investigation. They were able to build quite a case against the Dentons and Ms. Wilbon.”
“How nice for them.”
“That was partly why I advocated for settling with PKM, instead of going to court.”
They had been over this already. Piper saw no need to rehash it now. The man she’d fallen in love with had deliberately kept important details about her career from her, while simultaneously launching a full-frontal attack on her heart. He’d wanted her trust, but he didn’t want to earn it fair and square. They were done, and that was that.
The Titan Was Tall (Triple Threat Book 1) Page 35