This is the woman who helped him burn my career to the ground. And however polished she looks now, I hope she knows I’d still set a match to hers in a heartbeat.
‘Sit down, Brodie.’
‘Fuck off.’
One perfectly arched brow lifts. ‘Always the charmer.’ She leans back, fingers lacing together. ‘Please, be a good boy andsit.’
Her voice is baiting me. She’s expecting me to snap, waiting to sink her teeth in when I do.
And normally, I would.
A woman telling me to be a good boy is like a red rag to a raging bull. My vision narrows. I go taut, head to toe.
I’m not a good boy.
I’m not a boy.
And I’m definitelynot good.
I remain standing, just to be difficult.
She’s poking a tender nerve on purpose to make me crack.
I don’t.
I plant my hands on her desk and lean in. She wants to play games? She’s about to lose.
‘Careful, Harrington.’ I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. ‘You’re not the first woman who’s tried to put me in my place and failed.’
Her lips curve again, but it’s not a smile. It’s a challenge. A fucking dare.
‘And yet, here you are. In my office. Depending on my goodwill.’ She cocks her head again, like she’s already won.
A switch flips.
I shove the chair back so hard it grates against the floor with a screech. Drop into it, arms crossed, every cell vibrating with anger.
‘If you think for one second I’m letting you anywhere near my career—’
‘You don’t have much of a choice.’ She places her hand on a folder in front of her. ‘What I wanted to talk to you about today is this, Brodie,’ she lowers her voice, ‘I own your arse.’
‘The fuck you do!’
She opens the folder and flips to a page with a neat contract, my own signature glaring back at me like a death sentence.
‘Your contract was part of my recent acquisition of Henderson’s,’ she says. ‘I represent you now. Your PR, your sponsorships, your contract negotiations. It’s all in my hands.’
The room tilts. My breath locks in my chest, fury clawing at my ribs. I signed with an agency. Not my arch enemy’s fiancée. And if I remember it correctly, Charlie is only in her mid-twenties. About my age. How does she get to be the boss of me?
‘Whatisyour play here, Harrington? Last I heard, you were daddy’s little nepo baby, fluffing Callum’s career. Thought that was a lifetime appointment.’
Her jaw tightens just a flash. But it’s enough. I see it. A tiny crack in the ice. I’ve hit a nerve.
Good.
‘Well, last you heard, I was engaged to a bastard who couldn’t keep it in his trousers.’
That throws me for a second.
