Page 26 of Some Like It Hops

The thought dies in my brain as I realize what I’m looking at, and the headline forces me to focus. I scan the headline again and pull in a deep breath. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Sexual misconduct?” I grab the magazine and open up to the article. This woman—Marlena, according to the article, Griffin’ssecretary—is suing Griffin and Fast Lane Brewing for sexual harassment. I shake my head, closing the magazine before I read more than I need to.

Because I don’t need to know anything else. This is not my business.

Griffin is not my business.

Guess it’s a good thing he flaked. If I thought he might be bad news before, I have all the proof I need now. I have absolutely zero interest in getting involved with a man who uses his influence to take advantage of his employees.

I really did dodge a bullet.

Chapter Fourteen

Griffin

It’s been six weeks since the news of the lawsuit leaked. Which means it’s been six weeks and one day since I didn’t show up to my date with Charlie.

I don’t believe in regret. I don’t believe in putting much stock into something that already happened. I don’t dwell. I don’t beat myself up.

Shit happens. I move on.

But I can’t shake the feeling that I really fucked up.

It was a mistake to bail on Charlie. It was a mistake not to let her in. I should have called her that night as soon as I got the papers, should have explained things before she found out from a fucking tabloid.

It took thirty years, but it turns out Icanfeel remorse.

And I do have regrets.

One of them is giving up on Charlie before she had a chance to give up on me. It was selfish and stupid, and if I could go back and handle things differently, I would.

The other regret sits across from me right now, watching me throughout this deposition with that cocky fucking look in her eyes, like somehow, she got the best of me.

Her smarmy lawyers sit on either side of her, spouting off bullshit and taking notes, all the while going toe-to-toe with my counsel and not getting very damn far. Hey, if all else fails for them, at least they got the opportunity to learn from the best.

Javier sits beside me, running shit the way he always does. I’m one lawyer short because I told that Chris fuck last week that if he ever stepped foot in Fast Lane’s offices again, he’d get to learn real fast whether or not I can hold my own in a goddamn fight.

But, Javi is worth his ridiculous fee and more, and I know he’ll get me through this with little-to-no damage. My name’s been smeared through the fucking tabloids, yeah, and Fast Lane’s PR team has been scrambling these past few weeks, trying to fix our image, but we’ve always come out on top, and we’re not about to change that now.

Especially since I didn’t do the shit Marlena says I did.

So I sit here patiently, listening to every painstakingly fabricated word that comes out of Marlena’s lying-ass mouth, careful to keep my face a mask of indifference, and trying not to let them catch me checking my phone for the texts that never come.

Our lawyers start to argue, so I take the opportunity to glance down at my lap as nonchalantly as possible, but there’s no text from Charlie. No missed calls. I don’t know why I think she’ll suddenly have a change of heart, but hope is a motherfucker. She hasn’t returned my calls, hasn’t responded to my texts. The flowers I sent her last week were sent back. I spent two bills on a bouquet that wound up going home with the Tower’s doorman. He’s a nice enough guy, but, ugh.

I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

“Brad said—”

My ears perk up. Marlena shuts her mouth quickly.

“What did you just say?” My pulse starts to pound. What does Brad have to do with this?

Something doesn’t feel right.

“No-nothing,” Marlena stammers.

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