Page 49 of Perfect Satisfaction

I’m about to reach over to throat punch him for an answer, but a cooler head stops me.

“Our time is up. Thank you for coming by, Mr. Ronan. I look forward to receiving your article later today,” Carys interjects.

They start to leave the room and I shout, “I didn’t get a sixth question on record.”

Carys pauses and pivots. “The contract didn’t stipulate the sixth question was mandated to be on record, now did it? And you did ask a sixth question. I believe it was, ‘Who is Ursula Moore to you, Mr. Blake?’”

“This is bullshit!” I shout.

Carys preens. “That’s the thing about contracts. Everyone should read them carefully before signing.”

After they leave, I gather my devices and depart the conference room only to run smack into Angela Fahey Burke as I open the door. Taking a deep breath, I withstand her withering glare while I push through my raging emotions to uphold the part of my promise I’d made to Carys I’d yet to fulfill. I manage, “I’d like to apologize—” before her glacial voice interrupts.

“As much as it galls me to be rude in the workplace, Mr. Ronan, you can take your apology and shove it up your ass.”

She spins around and walks away. I call out, “I wasn’t the only one with your name. They had that already.”

She immediately freezes.

I take a chance and move closer. “Angela, I swear to you, the papers already had that information and were only waiting for a photo to run their articles.”

She turns her face up and reads the truth in my expression. “It was leaked by his side?” she asks.

“Yes.”

That’s when her face hardens to granite. “Here, our dilemma comes to a head. You abandoned your wife—my best friend. Why? Because she stood up for me to you? You’re standing here saying you knew the vultures were coming for me anyway, but you didn’t inform anyone.”

I open my mouth to defend myself but deflate at her words. “How did you not expect her to choose sides when you placed the love she had for both of us in between us all?”

I grip her arm, stuck on one thing she said. “I didn’t abandon Ursula, it was the other way around.”

“Really? That’s not how anyone who loves her sees it.”

Just as I’m about to say more, a deep male voice behind me orders, “Take your hands off my wife. Right. Now.”

I immediately drop Angela’s arm. She backs away and looks past my shoulder. “I’m fine, Ward.”

He brushes past, jarring me as he does. Stepping next to his wife, he searches her eyes. “Are you certain?”

She nods. Ward slips an arm around her before ordering, “Get out. Now.”

I don’t offer a token protest. I make my way to the double door that protects the inner sanctum of this office from the lobby.

Just as I’m about to slip through, Angela calls out, “Mr. Ronan? One last thing?”

I pause with my back to her. “Yes?”

“Had you shared what you told me with your wife before her father did, perhaps your marriage could have been saved.”

I’m stopped from responding “Maybe my marriage could have been saved if my wife hadn’t fallen in love with another man” when my cell phone pings with an incoming reminder.

I need to get back to the office and write this article.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

DJ Kensington is back in town. Panty sales just skyrocketed at every boutique around the city—especially at Pour Vous.

You just know you’re going to need a spare pair after you cream yours when she sings “Africa” in fluent French.