Her smile dropped as she listened to the other end of the call, before embarrassedly turning her back to me.
“No, I told him that. But he’s insistent,” she said, cupping her hand against the phone as she side-eyed me. Without another word, she turned back toward me and hung up the phone.
A few moments later, the frosted glass door to her right opened and Anderson strode out, looking irritable. I pushed off the counter and stood up straight. His dark eyes landed on me. He quickly turned to his receptionist who was watching warily from her desk.
“Call security,” he said.
I watched as the receptionist’s eyes went from flirtatious to cautious as she sized me up.
“This won’t take long,” I said, putting my hand up, signaling for her to stay put. She looked from Anderson to me with her hand nervously hovering over the phone.
“Jasmine…” warned Anderson, looking from her to the phone.
“I think it would be in your best interest to have this conversation, Anderson,” I said coolly. “In private,” I added, gesturing toward the door he had just come through.
He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it before looking to Jasmine who was still torn on what to do. He gave her a small shake of his head, as if calling off his dogs. She pulled back her hand and watched the standoff between the two men before her.
Anderson reluctantly nodded for the door, pushing it open. I picked up my briefcase and followed after him, down the long hallway to the office at the end. It was almost identical to the lobby, with the same dark floors and gray walls. Once we were both inside, he shut the door behind him.
“What’s this about?” he asked, sizing me up as he stood in the center of his office. His black eyes were sharp. Alert. Ready for another fight. As much as I would like to deck him in the face again, I kept my cool.
“I’m here for one reason,” I said calmly. “To put our shit behind us. This ridiculous one-upmanship has to end.”
Anderson scoffed.
“I mean it,” I said firmly. “I want you out of my life. For good.”
“And what makes you think I’ll stop coming for you?” he sneered.
I brushed past him to the leather wingback chairs that sat across from his large desk. I took a seat and placed my briefcase on the wooden surface of his desk, not caring what paperwork I disturbed. I clicked the gold locks and opened it.
“I suggest you sit,” I said, gesturing to his empty desk chair.
He hesitated for a moment before reluctantly walking around his desk and sitting down across from me. His eyes went from meto the briefcase. I pulled the black folder from inside and slid it over to him.
“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes landing on the black file that matched his eyes.
“Open it,” I said with a shrug.
He sat forward and pulled open the cover. His eyes ran over the glossy photos that sat on top. There were the photos of him and Tanya that my private investigator had given to me.
“So, I had a date with a pretty little thing.” He shrugged. “She just happened to work at your office.”
“Keep going,” I said coolly.
He rolled his eyes and set the photos aside. Underneath was a printed stack of emails.
“Your pretty little thing wasn’t too bright. Sending emails under our server at work. I have to say, you paid her a hefty amount of money to spy on me. Who knew you were so desperate?” I asked with an amused smile.
“Oh, and under those emails are the ones between you and the press. Turns out it’s pretty easy to find out who an ‘anonymous source’ is.” I held up my fingers in air quotations.
“Those aren’t crimes,” he said with a shrug, pushing the papers away.
“Ahhh, but it’s slander. My attorney can prove that easily.” I smiled. “And that’s not all. You haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” I looked at the folder that sat between us.
He reluctantly pulled it back toward him and found another stack of papers.
“Those are the texts between you and Markus Roane,” I said, watching Anderon’s throat bob nervously. “Who knew you two were still friends after all these years? I hadn’t read anything about that in your little book. But then again, I really only skimmed through it. The writing wasn’t the best,” I said, acting casually unimpressed.
