“I’m sure it didn’t.” Drew’s eyes go back to Alex, and they hold each other’s gaze.
“Okay, well, all this testosterone bouncing around the room is more than I need this early in the morning on a weekend. So let’s move on shall we?” A woman in a gorgeous fitted skirt and blazer pipes up from the other side of the table.
“I like her,” I announce, smiling at the woman and she gives me a surprised smile in return.
“Samantha, or Sam. The publicist,” she introduces herself.
“Harper. The problem.” I smile back.
The guys look at us warily and then return their focus to the task at hand.
“Did you look at the comments management and his agent sent over?” Drew asks.
“Yes, all bullshit. He was all over her. She can tell you herself, and I think we should bring up the fact that he also fucking clocked her.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Still.”
“We can put it in our report to management.”
“Good. You do that.” Alex levels Drew with another look.
“You have something else you want to say?”
“I don’t like your fucking attitude. You should be on our side with this, and you don’t seem very invested.”
“Having to figure out how to spin a story that defends the idea of my friend fucking my wife isn’t my favorite task of the day. Forgive me for not being more pleasant, Xander.”
“Your ex-wife.Mygirlfriend.” Alex stands, and I jump up with him.
“Fake girlfriend. Or at least it better fucking be unless you want—” Drew snarls and starts to stand, and I hold out my hands.
“I think we just need a minute?” I look to Samantha, and she nods and slides her eyes to Drew.
“Alex?” I turn to him, and he tears his eyes from Drew and looks at me. “Can we talk outside for a moment?”
He gives me a reluctant nod, and we walk outside the conference room, down the hall, and out onto a small, terraced area of the building. When we reach it, he turns around and looks at me expectantly.
“What? You want to just call it?”
“No, I just thought you needed a breather. I don’t like Drew, but he’s been in your corner for years. I don’t think the two of you getting into it is going to help matters. Least of which over me and our fake thing here.”
“Doesn’t that piss you off? That he thinks he owns you?”
“No. He’s having the reaction I would expect. Put yourself in his shoes. I’m your ex-wife and now I’m dating him and it’s about to be very public because he’s famous and you’re not.”
He considers the information for a moment, his brow furrowing and then he looks down at the ground.
“Maybe.”
“He’s a dick. He wants to fight. But you don’t have to let it get to you. You’re the bigger person—figuratively andliterally.”
His lips quirk up and his eyes scrunch like he’s about to make a comment.
“Don’t do it.” I shake my head and raise an eyebrow at him.
“Aw come on that’s no fucking fun, Saint.” He laughs, and I see the tension in his shoulders relax.
