Page 4 of Bidding War

I smile politely, give her hand a friendly squeeze, and take my hand back. There are at least three paparazzi in this restaurant, and all of them snapped a shot of her grabbing my hand. As I’d planned. After all, I was the one who called them.

I knew she would flirt with me. Rena, for all her flaws, is affectionate and handsy. Which is why I said we should sit on the same side of the booth. Give the people something else to focus on, like the possibility of a blooming romance, and they’ll glom onto it. I would have told Rena before our meeting, but she is a far better singer than she is an actress, and she would have overdone it. Hopefully, she doesn’t take my friendliness for more.

I cannot afford any more screwups.

“It’s basic math, really,” I tell her. “You said some things that people didn’t like, so you need to walk it back. Waiting for it to blow over isn’t as proactive as you should be. You’re an influencer. You’re not passive.”

She nods enthusiastically. “Exactly. Maybe I need a new agent … ”

“We work with several. I’ll send you a list I think could be?—"

She bats her big blue eyes at me. “What about you? I mean, it’s basically the same thing as a lawyer, right? Except agents have fewer rules.”

Not happening. Rena sleeps with her agents. It’s practically required. Three months ago, I might have considered it. But I have too many reasons to say no now, and June is all of them. She is everything.

I smile and tilt my head sympathetically, even though I hardly mean it. “A sweet offer, but I must pass. My life is in Boston, not LA.”

“I can make it worth your while, Anderson. You get me more than my agents ever have. They’re all sharks. I hate it.”

A paparazzo is getting bored. Can’t let them leave yet. So, I flirt a little. “If they’re all sharks, then what am I?”

Her doctor-enhanced, comically large lips twist into a smirk. “Really fucking hot.”

I laugh, letting her think her compliment landed. “Appreciated. My point is you need sharks when you’re on the West Coast, Rena. They’re good for you. I am good for you here, where I can handle your legal matters. Again, thank you for the offer.”

She sighs. “Fine, fine. What do I say in the apology video?”

“I already emailed you a script.”

“See? You’re the best, Anderson.” She kisses my cheek. “What a pity you’re a lawyer. You’re handsome enough to be an actor, you know?”

“Considering some character actors, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” I tease.

She giggles. “You know what I mean. You have a face for film.”

A gentle shrug. “If you say so. How about some more champagne?” I ask while I refill her flute.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Only if that’s what you want.” I hate playing the cad. I’ve spent a lifetime doing it, so I know what buttons to press, what sentences to drag out, and what words to emphasize. It would be easy enough to fuck Rena in the bathroom, and that would convince her to go along with whatever I wanted. Business is fifty percent who you know and fifty percent how you make them feel. But no thought has appealed less in the past five minutes. The only woman I want is June Devlin, and playing the cad never got me anywhere with her.

“Mm, I dunno,” Rena murmurs in my ear as her hand slides onto my thigh beneath the table. “I make questionable choices when I’m drunk.”

Back to business. Bringing up things she bristles at will cool her down. “Hence why you need to do that apology video now. The sooner, the better, in fact. Can’t let the people sit on your statement for too long, or you’re canceled, and then it’s another stint in rehab to make it up to people. You remember how much you hated rehab.”

Her bottom lip pokes out in a pout, and she blushes. “Rehab was humiliating. The counselors were no fun, and they kept making me talk about my childhood and shit. I hated it. You have no idea how embarrassing that is.”

No more embarrassing than being balls deep in the woman you love when your dad comes in, mocks you, and robs her. Pretty sure I would talk about my childhood forever if it meant I’d never have to mentally relive that moment. The bastard humiliated me, and I mean to pay him back.

Somehow.

I still haven’t seen him since that night. Blackmail is an unseemly tool in my arsenal, but it works both ways. Recently, I discovered our family fortune is built on many, many illegal activities. Dad forced me to go on a ride along with his pet enforcer to retrieve some money, and during the meeting with the debtor and his associates, a firefight broke out. The debtor and his friends ended up dead.

I could turn Dad in for that. But I was there, and he is the only person with footage of the firefight in the warehouse. I’d be held responsible for those deaths, same as him. It would almost be worth it to see the smug look on his face fall away. But I don’t savor the idea of conjugal visits with June in a prison.

So, I’ve avoided Dad as much as possible until I figure out a plan. I don’t miss him. In fact, it’s been nice not seeing him. Our relationship has always been contentious. Nothing I’ve ever done has been enough for him, not even when I was a kid.

When I had perfect grades, he found fault with my lack of extracurriculars. When I had perfect grades and captained the rugby team, he thought I should have also captained the debate team. After managing that feat, he said I should dress better for school.

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