Page 35 of Ruthless Wars

Jaclyn gives me a confused look. “The first three I get. And part of me thinks that’s just the sort of man who can hold your interest longer than an egg-timer. But an idiot? I’d bet both mine and Richard’s Aston Martins that Coop's no idiot. How about this? We head down to the executive suites, grab a drink, and you can tell me what the alleged idiot did.”

“Deal.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Margot

Ready to celebrate my only sister’s engagement, I whisk a chilled Moët from the fridge. Removing the foil and small wire cage, it uncorks with a delightful pop.

Without knocking, Evie and Jean barge in, shouting their congratulations before spouting things like, “Oh thank God,” and “We’ve missed you sooo much.”

Evie bypasses me, displaying her appreciation for Jaclyn’s return in a big bear hug.

“Brace yourselves. I’m not staying,” Jaclyn says calmly, pulling out of Evie’s embrace and perching on the edge of the oversized desk.

“That’s right. We’re riding this out, and you’re stuck with me,” I say.

Evie’s pout pleases me no end. “Well, great,” Evie shouts. “Between your sexting and announcing to the world that you wanted to swallow Coop’s meat, that’s just fucking perfect.”

Jaclyn and Jean’s wild giggles at my expense force me to drop my face into my hands. The embarrassment is suffocating.

“Don’t worry,” Jean says gently, wrapping a consoling arm around my shoulder. “We actually made some great headway. And we’re so confident we can wrap this up in another day or so, we’ve all agreed on a corporate get-together to celebrate.”

Peeking through my fingers, I ask softly, “When?”

“Thursday. Seven o’clock.”

“You sure about that?” I ask, opening my phone to the headline and handing it to Jean.

“What the French toast?” Jean spits out. “This was released right after you and Coop left. This doesn’t make sense.”

In full agreement, I say firmly, “No. It certainly doesn’t.”

Snatching the phone from Jean’s hand, Evie studies the announcement. “Well, I know someone who’s not getting his schlob-cicle licked. Asshole.”

Reluctantly, I glance at Jaclyn. “I’m not entirely sure Coop’s behind the leak.”

The confusion on Jean and Evie’s faces is a clear indication they think I’m being swayed by my vajayjay.

Waving the phone around for all to see, Evie lashes back. “Are you fucking kidding me? We know you sure as hell didn’t feed this to the press.”

“Anyone could’ve done it,” Jean says calmly, the ever-present voice of reason in a crisis. “And it’s more important we find the culprit than pin the blame on Mr. Byrne. For all we know, it was someone from our camp. Assuming it’s not one of you,” she says, and my amused glare lifts with a wry smile. “Then we can narrow the suspects to the people in the conference room, obviously eliminating myself and Evie.”

The logic of Jean’s statement takes us all by surprise.

“Fine.” Evie huffs, handing the phone over. “Maybe Coop didn’t do it. But I wouldn’t recommend a round of salami-swallowing until we know for sure.”

Flattening my expression, I take back the phone. “Noted,” I say dryly. “And we should probably sweep the conference room for bugs. Just in case.”

“Well,” Jaclyn says, grinning as she hops off the desk. “If you’ve got a corporate function, you’re going to need a date.”

The reminder gives me the perfect reason to throw my hands up in defeat.

“Don’t worry,” Jaclyn says. “I'll take care of everything.”

“I'm pretty sure those exact words were spoken by the captain of the Titanic.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

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