it sound.
I might've found the book hilarious, if only people I cared about wouldn't be dragged through the mud with me.
And then, there was our business to consider.
Our company made some of the best tools around, but this wasn't the only reason they sold like wildfire. They sold because we'd generated plenty of publicity through the TV show.
Until now, nearly all of it had been positive.
Sure, the show wasn't always what I'd call wholesome, but it wasn't raunchy either. And yeah, maybe I had a certain reputation for getting around, but not for fighting, cheating, or drinking, not to mention the other stuff.
Unprompted, I thought of my little sister. Willow was the oops-baby that both of my now-dead parents had abandoned. Thanks to Mason's eternal vigilance, she'd been sheltered from most of the bullshit that came with fortune and fame.
But it wasn't always easy, and the book wouldn't help matters, especially if I came across as abusive or some kind of degenerate.
I mean, hey, a little degeneracy made life interesting. But too much, and you start looking like a raging pervert.
With an effort, I returned my thoughts to the business.
Perversion didn't sell tools. And neither did screaming matches with buxom blonde journalists – or whatever Angelique was calling herself these days.
To Brody, I said, "As far as the fighting, that was all Angelique, not me."
It was no lie. Angelique had two settings – hot and crazy. The hot part I'd liked. The crazy part was hit or miss.
A few months ago, she'd warned me that she was going to get even with me for breaking up with her.
Breaking up.
Like she and I had ever been exclusive.
We hadn't. And I'd been up-front about it, too.
After our so-called breakup, a few months had passed with no sign of her promised revenge. I'd almost forgotten the whole thing until her recent voicemail.
The voicemail had been long and ranting. Technically, it was five voicemails, one after another because she kept running out of time.
Come to think of it, I'd listened to most of these voicemails outside the coffee shop where I'd first met Mina.
Huh. No wonder I'd been in a shitty mood.
My mood wasn't terrific today either, considering that Mason had seen the book before I did. Apparently, someone at the publishing house had slipped him an advance copy on the sly.
His copy wasn't even part of the print run, but rather some advance mockup for the production people. Even the reviewers wouldn't be getting copies for at least a month or two.
Unlike me, Mason had read the book from cover to cover. I knew this because last night's fatherly lecture was still fresh in my brain. He'd quoted passages from the book word-for-word, including a particular passage dealing with me and a few of Angelique's friends.
The word orgy was used more than once.
The lecture might've been funny, if only Mason hadn't believed every single word of what Angelique had claimed. He hadn't said so, but the look on his face had made it plain enough.
In the end, I'd let him say his piece and be done with it.
It was either that or kick his ass. And last night, I hadn't been in the mood for ass-kicking, whether to give or receive.
With Mason, it could've played out either way.
He'd left a half-hour after his arrival with the suggestion – some might say a command – that we meet early this morning to hash out a plan for mitigating the damage.
So, here I was, in the office and ready to roll.
I already had a plan, too. And it involved a certain farmer's daughter who was no Angelique.
Chapter 29
Mina
This was my third time in Chase's office, and I still wasn't used to it. Or maybe I wasn't used to him.
From behind his desk, he said, "Change of plans."
It was nine o'clock in the morning, and I was sitting in one of his visitor's chairs, feeling more than a little nervous.
A couple of hours ago, I'd received an email from Chase himself, telling me that our meeting scheduled for this afternoon had been moved up to nine o'clock this morning.
Just in time, I'd arrived at Blast Headquarters, where I'd been escorted up to his office not by Chase himself, but by his assistant.
That was fine by me. I didn't need a personal escort, but I did need the sponsorship – now more than ever, considering that I'd already given my parents the good news.
Since then, the news had only spread, and not through me.
Even though my mom