Page 83 of Salvaged Hearts

Not At All Conspicuous

ALICE

Alessandra Hart: America’s New Sweetheart

Emerald Bay Titan Slaps Local Paper With Defamation Suit

An Exclusive Look at Emerald Bay’s Very Own Cinderella Story

From Honeymoon to Hot Seat: Greyson Hart Speaks Out Against False Allegations

“How’s it looking?”

God, just the sound of Greyson’s voice raked fingernails down my nervous system, not unlike the marks I’m sure his back bore after last night. A flush heating my neck and face, I looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe of my office, hands nonchalantly stuffed in his pockets, with the top of a vicious hickey peeking out from his crisp collar. I’d had to layer oncover-up like my life depended on it in an attempt to conceal the one hovering just above the neckline of my dress.

Fighting my smile was futile, so I bit my bottom lip as I focused on the screen in a pathetic attempt to center myself. “Still a little more print time than I was hoping, but we’re headed in the right direction, and public opinion weighs heavily in our favor.”

“Think I can do anything better?” he asked cockily, sauntering over until he could lean on the corner of my desk.

Smirking up at him, I said, “I think we could humanize you a bit, and they’d eat it up.”

The man actually wrinkled his nose like I waved something rancid below it. “What does that mean? I’m human.”

“No,” I argued, shaking my head. “You’re stunning. But you’re not human. Not to them. Hell, I worked twenty feet from your desk for two years, and I thought you were a robot.”

“I like to keep things professional.”

“I know.” Not that the same could be said for the two of us now.

“Andprivate,” he emphasized, looking at me with some mix of endearment and amusement.

“I know,” I repeated, leaning back in my chair to study him for a moment. “A little goes a long way, Grey. You’re set on not making appearances with the kids?”

“You know why that’s a terrible idea.”

Kind of. We hadn’t really gotten into the nitty gritty of it last night—just that he funded a mercenary group calledThunderstrikein an effort to fight modern slavery, freeing trafficking victims.Obsidian, the group Max had dug out of our system, was an insidious circle Marcom had been attempting to shut down for years.

Nonetheless, I nodded.

Their existence made them targets, whether or not he emphasized that. But I understood not wanting to illustrate the value they held to him if someone had traced his involvement.

Jax, who was currently filling his tumbler with crappy office coffee, was Greyson’s partner. Only, he didn’t have an injury keeping him from putting his boots to the ground when needed.

I have four people on the planet I actually trust. Three, if minors are eliminated.

All three of Greyson’s confidants stood in the same building, divided by glass walls and staircases.

I'm not going to lie; that was a kind of praise I wouldn’t be tossing aside anytime soon.

“So we start simpler. With us,” I supplied.

“I think you’ve done quite enough, Mrs. Hart.”

I shrugged, shaking my head as I glanced back over the software we used to gauge public opinion based on interactions. The algorithm was complicated, but the results were pretty easy. “Getting more involved with causes that mean something to us, you on a date night, slow down at the next gala and take the time to answer questions. These are easy things.”

“I loathe the media.”

“Yes, but we need them, Grey. We need them on our side for this.”

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