Her voice was gentle but laced with unspoken concern. “Love you. I’ve got to get back to work now.”
“Alright,” I said, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “Talk soon.”
I hung up with Mia, my heart pounding like a bass drum in my chest. James Maxwell—his name alone made my blood run cold. I needed to call him. Now.
I tapped James Maxwell’s number into my phone with the kind of familiarity that breeds contempt. How many times had I dialed those digits, heart full of hope and head bursting with dreams? Now, it was desperation that made my fingers fly across the screen.
“Maxwell,” came the crisp voice on the other end, as if he was expecting a call from anyone but me.
“Mr. Maxwell. It’s Andy Donovan. Sorry for the cold call.” I crammed every ounce of regret I could muster into my voice, hoping it sounded like I’d just accidentally stepped on a kitten rather than begging for financial mercy.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” There was amusement in his tone—probably picturing me squirming on the other end, which wasn’t far from the truth.
“I just got wind you’ve been emailing my sister about… well, about the unfortunate matter of the two mil.” I rushed through my words, tripping over them like a clumsy ballerina. “Could you maybe not drag her into this?”
There was a chuckle that crawled down my spine like a playful spider. “Ah, family ties—the knots that bind us, whether we like it or not.”
“Not helpful,” I gritted out.
“It’s simple,” he said, that chuckle still tainting his voice. “Get me my money back and your sister is out of the picture.”
My mind raced faster than a hamster on a wheel doped up on espresso shots. “How soon do you need it?”
“As soon as possible,” he replied, and there was that teasing lilt again, as if he enjoyed dangling me over the edge just to watch me squirm. “There’s someone willing to settle your debt,” he added casually. “But if you insist on doing this yourself…”
“I’ll handle it,” I interrupted before he could finish. No way was I going to let someone else clean up my mess. “Just… be patient.”
“Patience is a virtue I rarely indulge in,” James said smoothly. “But I’ll consider it—for now.”
The line went dead, and I was left staring at the phone like it had personally offended me.
Okay, Andy, think.
But thinking wasn’t my strong suit when panic clouded my brain like a bad weather front. Instead of plotting a rational course of action, I hit Sean’s number with the force of a thousand angry gods. The phone barely had time to ring before his voice crackled through.
“Andy! Knew you’d come to your senses,” he gushed like a leaky faucet.
My jaw clenched. Patience wasn’t exactly sprouting in abundance these days. “Cut the crap, Sean. What’s my cut, and when’s this shady deal of yours going down?”
Straight to the point, no frills.
There was a pause, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “Just over two million for you,” he said, a smugness creeping into his tone. “Enough to wipe that debt clean.”
My pulse hammered at the thought—two million could set Mia and me free. “When?”
“Today, Andy-boy. Everything’s lined up.”
My mind raced like a greyhound on a sugar high. I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. This was it—my shot at redemption or my ticket to an early grave. “Meet me outside the Maxwell in twenty,” I said, already on the move.
“Will do.” He hung up.
In my room, I grabbed my battered old backpack and stuffed it with jeans and a hoodie—the kind of clothes that whisperedAndy Donovan pre-Matt Caine era. The familiarity of them was comforting, like a secret handshake with my past self.
I strode to the door, slinging the pack over my shoulder, but not before casting a wary glance at Bruno who stood there like a human fortress.
“I’m heading out to meet a friend,” I informed him, aiming for nonchalance but probably landing somewhere near barely contained hysteria.
Bruno nodded once and followed me into the elevator without a word. My heart raced as we descended; every ding of the elevator felt like a tick of a bomb counting down to detonation.
