WAYNE
Two pink lines. That’s all it takes to knock me flat.
I came back to Black Spruce Ranch with my tail between my legs—no job, no law license, no clue what the hell comes next. The plan was simple: keep my head down, survive my old man’s temper, and try not to screw up again.
Then there’s Katie McArthur. The quiet girl I used to give a hard time in high school—except now she’s hot as hell, confident, and doesn’t take an ounce of my bullshit. One night with her was supposed to shut off the noise in my head, not tie me to a future I’m scared to want.
Now she’s carrying my kid, and working near her every day is its own kind of punishment. She’s too good for me—steady where I’m chaos, soft where I’m rough—I’ve already torched one life. I can’t afford to ruin hers too.
But every time she looks at me like I might be worth something, I start to believe it. That’s dangerous—because belief turns into hope.
And hope?
That’s how you get burned.
WAYNE
“Of course I closed it,” I brag, kicking my feet up on my desk. “This is me you're talking to. Gave them the night of theirlives, showed them what American entertainment can really be like.”
Brett chuckles on the other end of the line. He’s kind of a dumbass, and only got into the firm he works at because of his dad’s connections, but he worships the ground I walk on.
“No karaoke bars?” he asks teasingly.
“Come on, they get enough of that back in Japan,” I say with a scoff. “We’re all about pleasure here, baby. I’m pretty sure that Masato guy almost had an aneurism when they?—”
A soft knock, and the creak of my office door swinging open, cuts me off mid-sentence.
“Mr. Riggs?” My assistant peeks her head in, a perfect blond curl framing her face as she smiles expectantly. She’s a picture perfect secretary, and if she wasn’t already engaged, I probably would’ve made a move on her by now. “Mr. Jameson and the other partners asked me to have you join them in a meeting in conference room two.”
I grin. I’m ready for it. A lot of people think my methods are crazy, but they don’t succeed the way I do.
“I’ll be there,” I say, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. “Look, Brent, I have to go. I’m about to make partner, so I’ll send you an invite for the celebration.”
“Cocky bastard,” he jokes. “Call me later.”
He probably won’t make it to the guest list, if I’m being honest. It’s time to start narrowing my social circles down to people who are as successful as I am, and he just doesn’t have the kind of drive that I do.
I toss my phone down on my desk before standing and straightening my suit jacket. I know I look good, but now is a time to lookperfect.
I head over to the conference room with a bounce in my step. I step into the room with a wide smile to come face-to-face with all five of the current partners. They’re all older, distinguished, the kind of business types who walk around with a stick up their ass and a fat fucking wallet.
They could use some new blood, some newenergy.
“Wayne,” Mr. Jameson says, not standing from his seat at the head of his table. “Please, come in.”
He’s the original founder of the law firm I work for—serious and strict. He took a shine to me when I started interning because of my work ethic and how easily people get along with me.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I say, as I sit down and smooth my hand down the front of my jacket to ensure it stays free of creases. “I have all of the figures prepared for the Akagi deal, if you’d like to go over them.”
“That won’t be necessary,” one of the other partners, Mr. Frackett, says.
He looks annoyed, but he’s never liked me, anyway. I always thought I was too reckless and impulsive, and especially hated that he couldn’t argue with the results I got.
“Straight to business, then?” I ask, unable to hide my smile.
It’s not surprising that they’ve already looked everything over. They’re all the types to over-prepare.
“If that’s how you’d like it,” Mr. Jameson agrees, his wrinkled face creasing in a frown. “You’re fired.”
