Page 41 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Because there’s too much risk. It’s time to mitigate some of it. If you’re rattled over a phone call, it’s time to take stock of what’s happening. West was always so adamant about keeping us separated. Then why set us up in death for it all to fall apart?”

“I’ve always suspected the truth would come out someday.”

“I know it’s going to. West trained me too well not to predict it. I can see the house of cards our father was so good at hiding behind beginning to collapse.”

His eyes widen briefly before the light of intrigue begins to fire. “What are you planning?”

Instead of answering him, I focus on strategizing how I’m going to lure out Newham, Heythrop, or whichever of the team of solicitors who determined it’s time to resuscitate the dead.

I’m excellent at mitigating risk. I’ve done it for one of the largest companies in the world since I was out of college, but West Moore has been teaching me one-on-one since I was a little girl.It’s why JB’s going to have a bitch of a time replacing me.“What is gained by us being exposed? What’s lost?” I ask out of the blue.

JB tunes into my line of thinking. “I don’t know. The estate’s never been made public and we still don’t know who any other beneficiaries are. But we’ll piece it together.”

“Pity.”

“What is?”

“West not realizing we three are stronger together.”

“It will be their downfall.”

I silently concur.Yes, it will be.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Oh god. My eyes.

Too. Many. Colors.

Is history repeating itself with DJ Kensington and her bodyguard? The two were spotted locking lips at Redemption like no one was watching when in reality, the whole world was.

Trust me, it was like Rainbow Brite kissed Darth Maul.

I’m all for #loveislove but will a stylist please comment below about how to fix the clash? Fast?

@djkensington @redemption

—StellaNova

“Ronan, push the damn button!This news about Kensington isn’t going to stay buried forever.”

“We just got our system back under our control from the hack and you’re asking me why I’m not racing to post something so incendiary?”

Hastings sneers a bit. “I can see why you’d be wary. Do you think Leanne Miles is still pissy over what you wrote about her?”

“Pissy? Hell, that woman wouldn’t throw water on me if I were standing in front of her on fire.” Even he roars, I quiver inside at the idea of computer savant Leanne Miles salivating to get her fingers in my network. Her ethics might slip as she plucks data out about me that I don’t want known—like the fact I’m married to one of the world’s wealthiest heiresses.

I’m about to hit the button when a familiar ping on my monitor makes me tense.Shit. I shove my chair forward to block Hastings, but I’m not quickly enough.

He reads the alert aloud. “Business Media reports international software program manager Ursula Moore has left her job at MSW. ‘There are absolutely no hard feelings at all,’ the vivacious Ms. Moore exclaimed after she was ambushed outside the company’s corporate headquarters in London. ‘Joshua Basset is a tremendous chief executive with the board’s full confidence and support. In a short period of time, he has taken the corporation to places it never expected to go.’ When pressed further, she joked with the press, ‘It’s what happens to program managers if we do our jobs correctly—we operationalize our work. Therefore our jobs become unnecessary. However if Joshua, or the team at MSW, require my services any time in the future, they only have to ring.’” His brows draw down. “You have an alert on Moore? Or on the company?”

“Yes.” I don’t clarify which.

“Why? We’ve always stuck to American celebrities.”

“I own stock in the company,” I lie. I sure as hell hope he buys it because I don’t feel like explaining the alert isn’t for Moore Software but for a very particular woman.

My Moore.