Page 43 of The Re-Proposal

“Of course.”

“I hate looking like an idiot, Cody.”

Seeing the genuine distress in her eyes makes me feel like I’m stuck in hell. She was never supposed to find out about my interference. She was never supposed to get hurt.

“I’m sorry.”

She scoffs.

“I won’t do it again,” I whisper.

“Ten years later, and you’re just full of apologies, aren’t you? Why don’t you just print out a card and hand them out whenever you make a jerk move. It could say ‘I’m sorry for being such a rich entitled bastard—”

“I’m sorry for being such a rich entitled bastard,” I repeat.

She shoves at me, her lips trembling like she’s trying not to smile. “Don’t. Don’t do that. This is serious, Cody.”

“And I’m serious about fixing my mistakes.” I slide my hand over a curl that fell out of her bun. My fingers graze her brown cheek.

In an earnest voice, I tell her, “Why don’t you consider me?”

She gives me a defiant face.

Undeterred, I coax her, “Let me invest in your charity.”

“No.”

“My money’s green.”

“Your money’s dirty.”

“Everything I do is legal.”

“Just because it’s legal doesn’t make it good.”

I study her face and decide to play it cool. “What kind of things have you heard about me?”

“Enough.”

I wait.

She doesn’t disappoint. Clarissa never could hold back when she’s on a rant.

“You’re heartless. Cold-blooded. They call you the Grim Reaper because you don’t just take companies apart. You fire everyone who doesn’t bow down to you. You break contracts with subcontractors, suppliers, long-time associates, disregarding them like they’re nothing.”

I’m not surprised by her assessment. Most of it is true.

Even back then, Clarissa and I clashed on our values. She saw the world as purely black and white. Good people. Bad people. Moral. Immoral. I was always more willing to color in grey.

Rather than feel offended, my lips curl up. We used to have these arguments back then too, neither of us really coming to a solution. It usually ended with me kissing her, shelving our disagreement for another day.

“You’resmiling?Right now?” She huffs.

“You’re feisty.” It’s an observation. A relief. A compliment. There’s a hint of amusement in it too. Clarissa appears so demure and harmless at first. It’s fascinating when she starts getting mouthy.

Her eyebrows quirk up. “I have never punched anyone in the face, Cody Bolton, but you are tempting me.”

“Welcome to the club, princess,” I wink. “All you’ve done since that night at Island’s gala is tempt me.”

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