Page 46 of Perfect Satisfaction

I’ve long admitted to myself that I should have contacted Carys directly when I received an anonymous tip about Brendan Blake having a side piece.

It was a huge mistake. The kind that had the potential to bring down StellaNova for good.

I knew better. I truly did. Mentally I kick myself for letting emotion get in the way of business, but I hit post before I could stop myself—only later regretting it.

Brendan Blake loves his wife. Full stop. Period. But an insidious twist of jealousy rose up inside of me observing Ursula’s worshipful smile aimed at the country star as he beamed down at her. It hit me low in the solar plexus. In the time we’ve been apart, in the numerous photos I’ve seen of her, this picture is the closest she’s ever come to looking at anyone the way she used to look at me, even when she’s been with that prick Basset.

Blinded by a combination of infuriation and loss, I ran the story.

The day after, I found out how the picture was obtained—physical assault of Brendan Blake’s head stagehand. Every news outlet reported on the very justified fury Brendan Blake was feeling.

To Hastings, I instruct, “Send apologies to Wildcard, to LLF, to the Brendan fucking Blake fan club if you have to.”

“On it.”

Simultaneously, I research Brendan Blake and Ursula Moore together. My heart stopped when I found picture after picture of her with his wife and his niece dating back to long before I’d ever met her.

My head lands on my desk with a thunk as I recall the night I caught sight of Ursula at the bar in Vegas. When she admitted, “Because who knows if you’ll just up and leave me here by my lonesome.”

Not hard to put together now the “friend” was Brendan Blake. I groan, “How did I never put it together?”

“Why were you supposed to?” Hastings wonders.

“Fuck, they’re family friends,” I curse. “Not a surprise, really, when your father’s as rich as hers was. I’m certain her dad spoiled her by having him sing at one of her birthdays or some shit.”

Hastings nods at my assessment. “What are you going to do?”

I scrub my hands through my hair. “I have no clue.”

Now, I await sentencing as Brendan Blake holds the door open for Carys Burke-Lennan and another man I recognize but can’t quite place to enter the room. I immediately rise from my chair.

Brendan shoots off the firing salvo, drawling, “Normally, I wouldn’t trouble David to sit through something as mundane as this, but I don’t want to be accused of accosting his wife on your website tomorrow when your interview posts.”

Shit. David Lennan, former Wildcard now LLF senior paralegal and Carys’s husband. If the rumors about this firm are true, Carys is LLF’s heart and fire, her husband is its brain. And Ward Burke and Angela Fahey Burke—the other married couple—are it’s innovation, tenacity, and future. The two married duos make up an unstoppable force.

My testicles draw up in fear, but I willingly open myself to accept the first strike of blood. “I’d hope to clear the air.”

Carys lifts her hand. “Before we get started, give me half a second to ask Angie to grab some coffee. Otherwise, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

I’m surprised when David outright laughs at his wife. “You can’t use caffeine as an excuse for wanting to kill people. You’ve already drank three decaf double espressos this morning already.”

She sends him a filthy look that he returns with a tender smile. Brendan coughs to hide his own amusement before muttering, “No comment.”

Carys turns her wrathful glare at him. “Watch yourself, B. It will be a cold day in hell before my coffee is taken from me.”

David soothes her, “It’s okay, sweetheart. The withdrawal weeks are the worst. You know the doctors said it’s better for you to wean off it before we try again.”

It hits me hard to realize Carys Burke-Lennan is thinking about trying to become pregnant. “Would it be inappropriate if I said I wish you luck?” Three sets of eyes swing in my direction. I offer weakly, “I have friends.”

“I find that to be rather surprising,” Brendan sneers.

Just then, the conference room door opens to reveal the first of many reasons I need to atone to this den of vipers. The few times I met her, Angela Fahey Burke struck me as timid. Now, I realize how wrong I was about her. It wasn’t shyness, more like an evolution in progress that was dreadfully interrupted.

And I played my part in its detour.

I sold out this woman, but it isn’t until I’m faced with her presence that the true impact of what I did steals through me.“How dare you say that? You can’t know the kind of war she’s waging. After all, you’ve just heard me talk about it but haven’t really seen it for yourself. Oh, that’s right. Courtesy of you, now the whole world’s doing that too.”

Her bearing confident, serenity radiating from her. From all accounts, she found peace—but only since her abuser was taken off the streets.