Page 70 of The Southern Submission

“There’s no way?” I scoff. “You dumb fuck. I’m better than you in every way possible. A better businessman, better with technology, a better hacker, and better at pleasing my girl than you ever were. She comes for me every time I touch her and sometimes just from my words alone. But you wouldn’t know about that, being a selfish prick who only cared about yourself.Nice guys finish lastis a saying you should really take to heart in the bedroom.”

Rex chuckles, and I look over.

“Save some for me. He can stand in for his father in some of the aggression I need to take out.” He cracks his knuckles slowly, his eyes focused on Archer.

I look back down at Archer, who’s crying again.

I grab the sniveling man’s chin roughly. “It’s not so fun when the shit you do online behind a keyboard that fucks with others is brought into the real world and you have to pay for your actions. Now do we have an understanding? You’re going to keep your stupid mouth shut about this or I’ll release the information I have on you and let yourbusiness associatesknow you’ve revealed their activities.” I pause and run a hand over my cheek in mock contemplation. “You know, maybe I should just release it and let trash take itself out.”

“This isn’t fair. I’m sorry about Ainsley. Don’t release that. They’ll kill me!” Archer is wide-eyed and pleading now, but I don’t think he fully understands just how serious I am.

“You don’t get fair anymore. I’ll fucking kill you myself if you so much as think about Ainsley or fuck with us again. Remember that.”

“N-no, I won’t. I swear! We’re cool. I won’t say anything,” Archer stammers.

I step back and turn to Rex as he takes my place in front of Archer. “I think I got my point across, but you should enforce it.”

Rex bends down and looks into Archer’s terrified face. Rex is a much scarier motherfucker than I can ever hope to be.

“We’re going to have a little chat of our own,” Rex says, grabbing Archer by the hair and slapping him hard across the face.

“Have fun,” I tell Rex, who smiles brightly and waves, shaking Archer’s head by the handful of hair gripped in his fist.

I wipe my hands on a handkerchief as I turn and leave the room. I have a plane to catch so I can get home to my princess and show her just how well Daddy can take care of her.

My phone vibrates in my pocket just as I board the jet, ready to be back in Atlanta. It was a quick trip to New York but it was worth it.

I pull it out and see a notification for the Atlanta Haute List that pauses my steps toward my seat. Is Ainsley really posting again, even after everything that happened? I click the link and see the post she’s written, acknowledging her faults and apologizing for the Haute List. She owned the culpability for the site and the last post that caused so much trouble. Despite it being my idea to begin a relationship that would all be for show that came back to bite me in the ass, she took responsibility for that, too. Knowing Ainsley and going on what she wrote about our business practices being blameless, she’s trying to absolve Olympus of any wrongdoing brought on us by the bad publicity.

Fuck, I love this woman. I need to get home to her and show her just how much.

My phone rings as I exit the airport in Atlanta. I answer it over the car speakers.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you today,” I say after greeting my caller.

“Turns out business needed to be conducted after hourstoday,” John Buckman, the editor-in-chief of the Atlanta Free Press, says. “I received an interesting email today. Did you know your”—he pauses, clearly looking for the right word—“girlfriend, wrote a story about you and Olympus? She sent over the synopsis today. I’ve already told her I’d buy any story she wrote about your company, but she says the focus isyou.”

I smile. “She’s been working on this piece for a while. What she’s written is powerful, and I’m glad she sent the story proposal to the Free Press. Are you going to pick it up?” My curiosity is piqued. Ainsley could use a win today if he says yes.

“I think Ainsley’s an excellent writer, and her reporting is top-notch. But there’s the whole issue of her journalistic integrity after this Haute List scandal. You have to understand something like that follows a person. It doesn’t look great that she’s written so many inflammatory posts about public figures, you included, many of whom can make or break the paper’s subscriber base if they call for a boycott of a paper that runs her stories now that her identity is linked to the site.”

My jaw ticks as I clench my teeth. I won’t let thisscandal, as John called it, ruin Ainsley’s chances of getting the job she’s been working so hard for. Everyone deserves to be judged on more than one mistake, even as far-reaching as this one.

“John, you know I can send a message to my contacts at the Wall Street Journal, Forbes, or the Washington Post tonight and get that story picked up, leaving you high and dry. It’s up to you how you want to manage your paper and the stories you publish. But if Ainsley came to you first, she’s demonstrating her integrity by honoring your previous partnership and offering the story to you before other papers.”

“As much as it pains me to say this, we may have to pass on the story, though I know she’ll have written something that’lldo it justice. Her last post on the Haute List showed she’s intent on fixing the problems she’s brought to your doorstep, and you’re right, she has plenty of integrity to come to the Free Press with the story first. I can keep her in mind for freelance stories that don’t center around her romantic partner in the future.”

“It’s your loss, John,” I say, my voice rumbling with the effort to keep my anger at bay. “Ainsley will come out on top after all this blows over, just you wait, and you’ll be kicking yourself for not picking her up while you had the chance.”

I end the call and put my foot down on the gas, more anxious than before to get home to Ainsley. I need to ensure she’s holding it together. She’s had more than her fair share of bad news and blows recently. If I know her at all, she’s suppressing her feelings and not acknowledging what she’s been through. It’s time she processes her emotions, and I know just how to get her out of her head and feeling everything.

Forty-two

Ainsley

Della makes a killer peach margarita, and we’ve enjoyed plenty at this point. I’m blissfully numb, my brain fuzzy and no longer endlessly spiraling through every bad thing that’s happened to me and is bound to come. She berated me and asked how I could’ve been behind the Atlanta Haute List for two years and not told her before she let me have my first margarita, but she showed up when I needed her, and that’s what counts. She’s hurt I didn’t tell her about my covert machinations and the site I ran, but that was the point of staying anonymous. I needed to keep the site to myself or risk exposure. I know she’s trustworthy and would have kept my secret, but I didn’t tellanyone. The guilt has magnified with each margarita, and I’m feelingparticularly contrite now.

Della flips through a streaming app on Payton’s giant TV, finding my favorite comfort movie, the 2005 Keira Knightley version ofPride and Prejudice. “Here you go, doll, I found your movie. Now you can feel all cozy and enjoy watching Mr. Darcy reform himself because he realizes the errors of his ways, just like you have.”

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