"Then you're a fool." He leans in, voice dropping dangerously low. "You have clauses in your contracts, endorsement agreements that can be terminated if you're perceived as—how did they phrase it?—engaging in conduct detrimental to your professional image."
"That’s not what this is."
"It's exactly what you and Dr. Chandler are doing. And if you continue to tow this path, I'll have no choice but to invoke those clauses." He smiles coldly, victory dancing in his eyes. "Walkaway from the girl, Declan. Stay with Evangeline for the cameras to keep your career intact. It's simple mathematics."
"And if I don't?"
An evil chuckle emits from his lips, then stops abruptly. He sneers.
"Then I'll make sure everyone knows what kind of man Declan Hawthorne really is, starting with your financial irregularities."
My blood runs cold. "What financial irregularities?"
"We can always find one if we look hard enough." His lips curl into a smile. His eyes remain dead cold. "Think carefully about your next move because you have a lot to lose."
He walks away, the sound of his footsteps on the concrete grating my nerves.
My fists uncurl and curl back again. I have no financial irregularities.
Gregory is threatening to fabricate financial crimes. To destroy my career, my reputation, my life.
Unless I abandon Ivy.
I won't.
13
IVY
Not What I Thought
The dress feels wrong.
I've changed three times in the past hour, and nothing looks right. They’re either too formal or too casual. The current dress on my body looks too desperate. Sloane badgered me to wear it, saying it’s my gateway to get another searing kiss from Declan. The kiss I’ve been thinking about the past week.
But that’s not what this is about. Declan and I are just going for dinner on our first practice date. I might want to feel his lips on mine every time I see him, but tonight is about learning to become relaxed on a date with a man.
Or at least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter. Sloane has sent approximately seventeen texts in the past two hours, each more enthusiastic than the last. The final one reads.
Sloane:
If you don't send me a pic of this outfit in the next five minutes, I'm coming over there.
I snap a quick photo of the fitted cardigan over my simple, too-tight black dress that hits just above my knee, hair loose around my shoulders instead of pulled back. I send it before I can overthink.
Her response is immediate:
Sloane:
FINALLY showing some leg. You look gorgeous. He's going to lose his mind.
Ivy:
Thank you.
Sloane:
