“Breakfast would be great, Thessaly.” I keep my voice equally neutral. “Thank you. Have you met Bree?”
“No, I haven’t,” she says. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Bree.”
She moves to the kitchen without comment. But I catch the small smile at the corner of her mouth.
Bree’s cheeks are pink. “She’s going to think...”
“She’s going to think correctly.” I take her hand. “I’m done hiding this. At least here.”
“And at the office?”
The question hangs between us. At the office, she’s still my secretary.
“Soon”, I say.
It’s not enough. I know it’s not enough.
But when she squeezes my hand and doesn’t let go, I think she might be giving me the time I actually need to make this right.
24
Nico
Monday morning starts with twenty-one missed calls.
I stare at my phone screen in the back of the Mercedes as Indira navigates morning traffic toward Hudson Yards. Twenty-one. From board members, from Paloma, from Dashiell, from Larissa, from donors, from numbers I don’t recognize. My voicemail is full.
Something is very, very wrong.
“Sir.” Callahan half-turns from the passenger seat. His face tells me everything I need to know before he says another word. “There’s been a development. You should check the business news.”
I pull up my browser. The headline knocks the breath out of me.
“Pattern of Manipulation: Rossi CEO’s History of Emotional Coercion.”
No.
No, no, no.
I scan the article while my blood turns to ice water.
The piece details my attempt to blackmail Dom into leaving his now wife Tatiana. How I tried to pressure my own brother into ending his relationship so I could swoop in like some kind of predatory asshole. The article quotes “sources familiar with the family” and paints a picture of a man who uses emotional leverage to get what he wants.
But that’s not the worst part.
The worst part is the final paragraph. The one that links past to present with surgical precision.
“Sources say the CEO’s current relationship with employee Briana Dawson raises questions about boundaries and consent. Dawson, who began as Rossi’s executive secretary earlier this year, has been observed leaving late-night meetings with the billionaire and was recently spotted at his Tribeca residence. The pattern, insiders suggest, is troubling.”
Bree.
Martin Hale has dragged Bree into this.
Fuck.
I call my general counsel.
“How bad?” I ask Larissa. My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.
