Page 90 of The Arrogant's Surrender

“She’s perfect for you.”

“Get this into your head: even if Febe were the last woman on Earth, I wouldn’t marry her. If the survival of our species depended on me sleeping with her, humanity would end. Do you understand what I’m saying, Mother? Brooklyn Foster is the one I want. Nothing will change that. I’m going to marry her. I’ll have children with her, and it’ll be by her side that I'll take my last breath.”

“She’s different from us.”

“Yes, she is. She’s so much better. Stop interfering, or I swear to God I’ll cut you out of my life.”

I hang up, wanting to break something, but before anything else, I have a mission.

Just as I place my hand on the doorknob, though, the door opens, and my partners walk in.

“What’s going on?” William asks immediately, looking at me.

“Febe’s out. I don’t care if I’m mixing personal and professional issues; that woman is not stepping foot here again.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” L.J. says, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. “But I want to know what happened.”

I quickly explain the fight with Brooklyn and how I know this whole mess was orchestrated by my mother and her protégé.

“Damn! Medeia really went too far this time, man.”

“I’m going to deal with it.”

“Deal with what? The situation with Brooklyn?” William asks. “I know you’re angry, but you need to see things from her perspective too. Look us in the eye and tell us honestly that even with everything you’ve been through with your girlfriend,the whole marriage of convenience thing wasn’t part of the equation.”

“It started that way. Not anymore. She’s the one I want. I’m not giving up. Brooklyn is mine, and I’ll make her see that.”

“Maybe you need to change your strategy,” L.J. says.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s hurt, Athanasios. That bastard Jordan hurt her. Brooklyn won’t believe words; she’ll believe actions.”

William steps aside to take a call while Lazarus continues, “I think you should give her some space. A few days, at least.”

“That’s not my style.”

“You don’t have a ‘style’ when it comes to a woman like her. What past relationship of yours even compares to what you have with her?”

I don’t answer, but the tension in my jaw speaks volumes.

“Febe’s coming,” William says, hanging up his phone.

“Are we firing her now?” L.J. asks.

“Yes,” William says, “but I’ve also called one of our lawyers. I want him here to witness the termination.”

Febe Georgiou has been waiting in the hallway for about half an hour. We’ve been meeting with the lawyer to make sure everything is handled properly.

“I don’t care if we have to pay her compensation. I don’t want her here anymore,” I say.

“There’s no just cause for the termination. You’ll likely have to pay a substantial amount since her contract isn’t up for another two years,” the lawyer explains.

“I don’t give a damn. She’s out.”

“I understand, Dr. Pappakouris, but I ask that when she comes in, you let me handle the termination. It’ll be better if we don’t bring personal issues into this.”

I nod in agreement. All I want is to never have to see her face again.

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