First Comes Love - Ashlee Price Page 0,67

a philosophy: “Emotions never did nobody any good.” She seems as blissful as a sloth whenever we visit, even after her beloved canary Bella died, though for all I know she could have a punching bag in the basement.

When we get home, Hannah gives me a big hug. “You sure you just want to go to bed now?”

“No,” I say truthfully. “I want to hop on a plane—any plane—and just see where I end up. Forget all this. Get away. But for now, I think I just need some sleep.”

Hannah yawns. “Yup. Sleep sounds good to me. I’m really sorry, Har.” She hugs me again.

“I am too,” I murmur. “I am too.”

Chapter 29

Greyson

“Why you looking so Grey, son?” Landon chides me as I walk by his office.

“Not now,” I tell him.

I’m surprised Nolan hasn’t thrown his quintessential ‘Grey, son’ joke at me lately. Then again, a lot of shit has been going on. So far, I’ve managed to avoid checking the papers today.

There’s one waiting on my desk.

STORM PREZ’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH TEENAGE INTERN, the headline reads. I roll my eyes. To be fair, the assholes got 2/4 of the facts correct—probably a new record for them. Not that anyone ever reads the Star for its stellar journalism, but still. Part of me had hoped that last night’s warning was baseless. That this morning I could call up Harley and tell her I made a mistake.

Clearly, that won’t be happening.

Clack-clack-clack

“Good morning, Mr. Storm,” Madeline says, pausing in the doorway. “So, you’ve seen it?”

“I’ve seen it,” I say gruffly.

“Ah.” An inclination of her strawberry-blonde head. “Well, it’s certainly not my place to tell you how to run your business, but—”

“Ms. Davis has been let go,” I say. “That should satisfy the gossip mill—in the media and in this office.”

Madeline almost beams before recovering her composure. “You’ve done the right thing, sir. I know everyone in the office would agree.”

I give her a cutting glare. “I know how fond you all were of her.”

It occurs to me that I’ve never really disliked Madeline—or any of my employees—until this moment.

I thought they were better than acting like a bunch of bitchy high school girls against a new employee. Then again, if I’d known, maybe I could have put a stop to the bullshit. It’s too late now, anyway.

As for Harley, it’s only 9 AM and I’ve already had to stop myself from calling her up several times. Mostly for mundane bullshit excuses, like if she wanted her desktop ivy plant brought to her or donated, or what she thought of the weather on this fine day. But there are some actual legitimate things I need to know, like whether she wants me to get her a new position with a friend ASAP or give it some time, and which qualities she wants me to emphasize in my reference.

Spectacular. Gorgeous. Funny. Daring. Unprecedented.

Fucking focus, Greyson.

Madeline, apparently, has decided to pretend that she didn’t hear my earlier remark.

“I think Mr. Landon wanted to see you,” she says, heading for the door.

I say nothing, sit down when she leaves.

Maybe I was a bit hard on her, but too fucking bad. Her and the rest of them should’ve known better than to take out petty gossip on Harley. And if she thinks I’m going to pretend to be happy when I just made the hardest decision of my life… then she’s fucking delusional.

I manage to stay seated for another few minutes before another excuse to call up Harley—check in, make sure she’s OK—drives me to head over to Landon’s office.

On the way there, my phone rings. It’s Maurice.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, kiddo,” he says.

It’s always caught me off guard how my accountant sounds like an Italian mobster with a mouthful of food, but he does the job damn well.

“What do you mean?” I ask him.

“These taxes you sent me that your brother tried working on,” he rasps. “Is the boy mentally handicapped or what? I don’t know what the original documents were like, but whatever he’s muddled with and you’ve sent me is complete shit. And I mean complete shit.”

I groan. “You don’t mean—”

“Hell yeah you’ll have to send me the original documents. In full. Can’t be more of a shitshow than what I have in front of me. It’ll take some time though, for sure. Gonna cost you a pretty penny too. I’m going to slash my fees in half because you’re like a son to me and there’s no better lingonberry