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He’s still wailing, cradling his ear like a baby, the sound grating on my nerves.
Honestly, it’s just an ear tag, like a piercing with a big ass earring. My vote was for a Prince Albert, but thankfully, the Bishop men drew the line at getting anywhere near his disease-ridden junk.
Mark and Zac’s exact words?Fuck no.
Trent snaps a finger right in his face. “You’ve got one hour to hand over everything you’ve got on Roxana—ranked by what’ll cause the biggest headlines.”
By mid-afternoon,both traditional and social media are flooded with stories about Roxana Voss, but not for the reasons she ever imagined. Instead of making headlines as a star reporter, she found herself at the center of them.
In fact, the biggest splash came from none other than Alfred Walsh, famously known as Scoop, with a headline that sent shockwaves across every platform:
From Byline to Mugshot
The Fall of Roxana Voss: Journalist Turned Criminal
Scoop sits proudly at his desk, a smug grin on his face as Anabelle and Felix hand out slices of cake. Apparently, Roxana’s downfall has been cause for celebration for everyone. Scoop catches my eye from across the room, holding up a slice in silent offering.
I shake my head. With Jules gone, eating is no longer a pleasure but a necessity. A chore. Every breath without her feels like a slow, torturous ache, and food has lost all its flavor.
Nothing feels right without her here.
“You’re missing out,” a familiar voice chirps behind me.
I turn and find Taylor, her smile as wide as Long Island. “You’re speaking to me again?” I ask.
She shrugs, casually. “Trent told me what you did.”
“Trent?” I raise a brow. “Is this future husband number three hundred?”
“Not necessarily.” She pauses, thinking it through while savoring another spoonful of pure frosting. “For once in my life, I’m taking things slow. Though, heiscooking me dinner tonight.”
“The fire department will breathe a collective sigh of relief it’s not you,” I tease.
She giggles, nudging my arm. “I onlyalmostburned the building down once.”
“Hey,” I nudge her arm right back. “Good for you,” I say, my tone softening. “You’ve been an amazing friend to Jules. You deserve the best. And if Trent gets out of hand?—”
“Don’t worry,” she grins. “I’ve got a shrimp tail guy on speed dial.”
Our laughter fades, leaving a stretch of silence between us.
Taylor, still smiling, takes another bite of cake. “You reallyshould try it,” she says, popping another forkful of icing into her mouth with a playful grin. “Buttercream with a hint of peach. Gee, I wonder who picked it out.”
I laugh, but it’s hollow, the ache still clawing at me. “Jules should be here. She earned that Trailblazer Award. And she was robbed of the chance to bask in it.” My eyes catch Trent glancing our way—or more accurately, at Taylor. “Looks like someone’s here for you.”
She glances over and smiles. “That’s my ride.”
“Then I’d better let you go.” The words catch in my throat, and I pause, feeling the weight of my heart grow heavier with every second. “But if you see Jules… tell her—” I hesitate, the ache sharpening. “Tell her I miss her.”
She blinks, then smirks. “No.”
My brow furrows, confusion flaring intowhat the actual fuckirritation. “No?”
“Look, poor little rich boy, I’m not your secretary.” Her grin stretches wider as she pulls me into a soft, teasing side hug. She whispers, “Go tell her yourself.”
CHAPTER 53
Jules
