Page 128 of Prickly Romance

“I usually clean up my own messes.” Dejonae lifts her chin. “But I’m willing to follow the script if it helps the foundation.”

Nova motions her head at my office and then walks inside as if it belongs to her.

Dejonae narrows her eyes. “Who’s she?”

“Adam’s…”—I stumble over my words. Nova is more than a mere secretary, business partner or advisor—“everything.”

“Ah.” She still seems confused.

When it comes to Nova and Adam’s relationship, so am I.

Drawing near, I place my hand to the small of her back. “You stayed.”

“I don’t run away.” She blinks rapidly. “Also, I didn’t have the courage to walk past the admin team again.”

My lips twitch.

Nova takes a seat in the sofa and gestures for us to do the same. Since I am asking her for a favor, I make no comment about her pushiness and let her do what she wants.

Dejonae and I sit in the love seat. Her thigh presses into mine. The warmth of it makes my body turn hot in an instant.

“Tell me everything that happened yesterday.” Nova’s eyes narrow. “Leave nothing out. Even if it seems like a minor detail.”

“I met Beverly at the café downstairs,” Dejonae says, pinning her hands together and setting them in her lap. “At first, she appeared friendly.”

“Was there anything strange about her interview with you?”

“She kept asking about Sazuki’s private life.”

I arch an eyebrow. The editor-in-chief hadn’t said anything about that.

“When I shut that type of conversation down, Beverly seemed a lot less enthused, but I decided not to hold it against her. We went on a tour of the music rooms and the concert hall. Then she went to the bathroom.”

“And this is where the incident happened, correct?” Nova’s face is pure concentration. It feels as though I am watching a police interrogation.

“Yes. It happened in the bathroom.” Dejonae’s eyes flicker to me. “I heard Beverly on the phone. She was talking to a friend about how annoyed she was to be doing a story on the foundation. She called the kids here… a derogatory word.”

My muscles coil with tension.

“Which one?” Nova prompts.

When Dejonae tells us, my blood boils.

I clamp down my emotions before I turn to face her. “Is that when the fight started?”

“If you’re asking ifI’mthe one who initiated the first physical attack, I wasn’t. I marched into the room and told her off, yes. But I didn’t put my hands on her. She’s the one who screamed at me and grabbed my hair first.”

Nova drums her fingers on the arm of the chair. “The problem is we have no evidence of that.”

“Even if we did,” I add, “attacking the reporter publicly would not help the foundation.”

“What did the security cameras catch?” Nova asks.

“The only feed they have is one that points to the bathroom doors. It shows the reporter and Miss Cottingham leaving together. The reporter looked distressed and disheveled.”

The calm in my tone is not mirrored in my emotions. I understand why Dejonae did not apologize for what she did. I went after the man who almost ran my daughter over and had no apologies about it, making sure he understood the folly of his ways.

Dejonae is not the type to sit things out in the face of injustice. She might not have my resources, but she certainly has my grit.

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