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My instinct had been to panic and run. That wasn’t going to work when I was in charge.

I hated admitting it, but maybe Dad was right. Maybe I did need help.

Not because I couldn’t handle the job. Public speaking wasn’t a skill I’d ever developed. I’d been too busy developing everything else.

After getting a couple hours of sleep, I knew what I had to do. I called my father after my second cup of coffee.

“I’ll talk to him,” I said without a good morning. “Beau Blackwell. I’ll hear what he has to say.”

“Good.”

“I’m not making any promises. If I don’t like his approach, or if he’s as insufferable in person as he was in that courtroom, I’m walking away.”

He chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less.”

5

BEAU

Iwas never late. Not to court, not to client meetings, not to anything involving other people. Being late was disrespectful, and it was also a power move. I didn’t need to play power games with people. I was already winning.

I showed up to the coffee shop ten minutes early, the scent of strong Arabica beans washing over me. I got in line behind a couple of teen girls carrying on about the concert they were at last night. I ordered an Americano and scanned the dining room in search of a table. A few women in workout clothes were sipping iced coffees in the corner. A tech bro sat with his laptop open, tablet beside it. He had on headphones and talked animatedly to whoever was on the screen.

Imagine my surprise when I spotted Darcy Corwin already sitting at a table near the window with a steaming cup in front of her. Her back straight, eyes locked on me. Her hair braided tightly down her back once again. Starched pantsuit that could probably stand in her closet and wait for her to jump in. No hangers need apply. It was a dull dove gray with a boring ass white blouse. She looked like she’d come straight from a board meeting.

I looked down at my own attire of dark jeans and a black t-shirt. It was Saturday. I didn’t have a dress code for weekends. And we were having casual coffee, not negotiating million-dollar deals. Her stony expression was very judgy. I wasn’t going to personally check, but I imagined there would be a stick shoved somewhere that would make sitting a challenge.

She was attractive. I’d give her that. Even with the expression that suggested she found the entire world faintly disappointing, she was genuinely pretty in a severe, untouchable kind of way. She also seemed like an absolute nightmare.

“May I sit?” I asked.

“I’d rather not have to stare up at you the entire time.”

I smiled and pulled out the chair. “Beau Blackwell.”

“I know who you are and you know who I am. We can skip the nonsense introductions.”

Not a stick, a fucking two-by-four.

“Then let’s get right to the good stuff,” I said, refusing to let her get under my skin.

“My father hired you. I still don’t entirely understand why. I agreed to meet you because I told him I would, not because I agree with any of this. Why? Why did he hire you?”

“Because I’m good at what I do.”

“You’re an entertainment attorney.”

“I have done entertainment law. I handle other things as well. And I ran circles around your father’s expensive attorneys.” I leaned back in my chair. “Your father wanted the best, and that’s why he came to me.”

Her eyes flashed a dark blue before turning icy again. “What I need is a PR firm. A real one. With a team and a strategy and people whose entire job is reputation management.” She sipped her coffee. “Instead I have you.”

“Instead you have me,” I agreed pleasantly. “Lucky you.”

She did not appear to feel lucky. “I don’t know what my father sees in you.”

I leaned forward, dropping the easy grin for a second. “Look. I can walk away right now if you’re not interested. I don’t need this job and you don’t need to sit here pretending you want my help, which you do as well as you handle press conferences.”

Her mouth dropped open. That was a low blow, but she’d been judging me the second she laid eyes on me.