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He rose and extended his hand. “Alexa, we have a deal.”
I shook with him. His hand wasn’t slimy or cold or scaly or any of the other terrible things I’d once imagined.
He clasped his other hand over mine as well. “You have my seal of approval, for all that’s worth. Evan has been miserable since you left.” He broke contact and reached for his phone. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, I have an employee to fire.”
I stood. “Thank you, Fergus.”
“Thank you, Alexa.”
Diane followed me out and closed the door firmly.
His admin wasn’t at her desk.
“He likes you,” Diane said.
“Really? You think?”
With a nod, she continued. “Absolutely. He has always respected strength. And I’m impressed. Now tell me, how did you get all that material on Graff?”
I beamed at the implied compliment. “I went to college. I know how to do research.”
CHAPTER50
Evan
We only had two weeks until the board meeting and the showdown with the Graffs.
I sat at my desk, examining my bullet points yet again for my meeting with theGlobe. An article in the SundayGlobewas to be centerpiece of the media blitz about our charity initiative.
Dad and I had discussed his impending vulnerability at the upcoming board meeting. He thought George Graff’s likely plan was to have a vote to censure me and kick me out of the meeting before Dad’s contract was addressed.
I had to deliver on this and keep from being pushed aside. I had to preempt the argument that the fountain incident, and Alexa’s actions at the gala, made me a liability to the company.
Heelgate—what a name. And the fact that Alexa had to endure the public scrutiny when Martin had been the asshole was so unfair. George Graff had mentioned Heelgate to Dad the following morning, which meant I couldn’t set the record straight with the press without creating a problem. I hated that aspect of needing to support my father.
Diane appeared at the door. “Miss Minx is here to see you.”
I double-checked my schedule just in case, and it was empty. “I thought we agreed, no interruptions.”
Diane retreated, and when I looked up again, in her place Alexa stood in the doorway.
“Alexa?”
She wore a tight tank top and miniskirt instead of her normal demure blouse and jeans. Everything about her made me want to run over and hug the hell out of her—for finally coming, for finally responding, for being here so we could finally talk. But my brother’s warning echoed in my head.No pushing. I merely stood, both elated and dumbfounded. “Hi.”
“May I come in?” She closed the door and walked to a visitor’s chair when I didn’t respond. “May I sit?”
By all means, of course, please do, I’d love it, ran through my head. But Noah’s warning to take it slow and not push overrode them all. I nodded instead.
“I have a friend with a new business who needs an investor,” she started.
What the fuck?I didn’t want to talk investing in somebody’s venture or other. I wanted—no needed—to talk about us, talk about my mistakes, my misdeeds, ask for forgiveness, if that would help.
I’d imagined at least twenty-three different scenarios for us meeting again. They ranged from a chance meeting at Starbucks or on the street all the way to me pounding on the door of her apartment at midnight.
My favorite number was number eleven, where Alexa used her cardkey to enter the penthouse and then slid back to my bedroom and naked into my bed. Number twelve, where she snuck in while I was taking a shower, was just as hot. It was clear now that neither of those was ever happening.
“It’s a new firm,” she continued, crossing her legs.
