Page 38 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
I heard his engine crank up. “What is it? What’s happening?”
I sighed as JaQuan finally left to do as I asked. “I can do this on my own.”
He paused. “What?”
I sniffled. “Look, if I’m ever going to be successful at anything—whether it's these businesses or just in general with my life—I have to learn how to stand on my own two feet.”
“Maggie, no one expects you to know how to naviga—”
I shook my head. “Mike, don’t come. I’ll find a way to handle this. You can’t be there to bail me out every single time.”
“I’m your work husband. That’s what we do.”
I swallowed hard. “No, it’s not, and you know it.”
He sighed heavily, and the sadness in his voice caught me off-guard. “Whatever you say, Mags. If you don’t want me to come, then I won’t.”
His sadness made me ache, but I knew I was doing the right thing. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Do you at least want me to send one of my security guards down there to—?”
I cut him off again. “Michael.”
He groaned. “Fine, Maggie. If this is how you want to play this game, then I’ll play it with you.”
I furrowed my brow. “What game?”
“Never mind. Just—let me know when you’re safe somewhere, okay?”
“Mike, what—?”
“Promise me, Mags.”
I swallowed hard. “I promise.”
His voice grew curt. “Thanks.”
And when he hung up the phone, I felt emptier than I had in a very long time.
“JaQuan!” I called out as I stuffed my phone back into my purse.
He came barreling through the storage room doors. “All right, I got most everyone out of the store, but the paparazzi are still lining the front of it. Got the blinds drawn, but I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of people race around to the back.”
I closed my eyes and drew in a long, sobering breath. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. I want you to shut the store down for the next two weeks. It’ll take that long to get things sorted with the pipe issue, and in the meantime, let the employees know that I’ll pay them their regular rates during the downtime.”
He blinked. “You will?”
I nodded. “Yes, I will. I don’t know where I’ll get the money, but I’d rather go under doing the right thing than barely stay afloat and have you guys continuing to deal with these sorts of conditions. It’s unsanitary, at best. So, go dismiss everyone, get me the schedule for the next two weeks so I can do payroll, then lock up and go home.”
He smiled. “I can do that.”
And after he slipped away, I quickly got on the phone with one of the only plumbing companies my father hadn’t attempted to use in the past, hoping I could forge forth and create good business relationships instead of piggy-backing off the terrible ones Dad had made for himself.
To my surprise, they had room for an emergency appointment. So, after the store was shut down, the two plumbers navigated their way to my store and came in through the back. Paparazzi flashed as many pictures as they could when the door opened, but I tried my best to ignore it as I showed the men the issue I had to fix.
“So?” I asked hesitantly. “How bad is it?”
The one plumber that had “Scott” embroidered on his shirt pulled out his measuring tape and extended it. He locked it in place before holding it up toward the hole that had rotted out in the drop-down ceiling, and when he placed the metal hook against the wet material, it sliced through like a warm knife through butter.
