“Come inside,” he said gently.“You look like you could use a drink.”
She didn’t argue.
Inside, the house smelled like cedar and coffee.He poured two glasses of bourbon and handed her one.She took a small sip, staring at the glass before setting it on the counter.
“I met with Vivian,” she said finally.
He leaned against the island, watching her carefully.“And?”
“She confirmed it.”
He froze.“Confirmed what?”
“That the leak wasn’t an accident.The label orchestrated it.”
The words hit him like a punch.He’d suspected, but hearing it out loud made his stomach twist.“They used Reed & Carr as a cover.”
She nodded.“They wanted the conflict.They think chaos sells.She called it ‘controlled narrative direction.’”
He swore under his breath.“So they sabotaged us.And you.”
“They called it marketing.”She gave a humorless laugh.“Apparently, my ability to clean up their mess makes me valuable.She offered me a job.”
He blinked.“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.Corporate strategy, media relations, full-time.Real influence.”She met his gaze.“On one condition: I don’t dig deeper.”
Jami’s jaw clenched.“So they’re trying to buy your silence.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
He moved closer.“What did you tell her?”
“That I’d think about it.”
He searched her eyes.“You’re not actually considering it.”
Her voice softened.“No.But I had to get out of there with some leverage.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.“I knew something was off.I could feel it.”
Carlene nodded slowly.“They’re erasing the trail, Jami.Bret’s access is gone.Mine too.The files I pulled last night might be all that’s left.”
“Then we protect them,” he said firmly.“Whatever they’re planning, they don’t get to bury the truth.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.Instead, she said quietly, “They could ruin both of us.”
He stepped closer.“Let them try.”
The air between them thickened.She stood so close he could see the faint smudge of mascara beneath her eyes, the exhaustion in her expression, the strength she was barely holding on to.
“You don’t have to keep fighting alone,” he said, voice low.
Her throat moved as she swallowed.“You keep saying that.”
“Because you still don’t believe it.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.The sound of the air conditioner turning on filled the background, soft and steady.Then she whispered, “You make it hard to think straight.”
