Page 66 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“Is that why they fired Golden Boy Kyle?” A hint of satisfaction creeps into her voice. “He rubbed that trip in my face every chance he got.”
“He quit, but it wasn’t exactly voluntary.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” She presses a hand against her sternum, as if bracing for impact.
“I tried. At the beginning.” A muscle in my jaw ticks. “It ended with you going on a date to spite me.”
Her eyes narrow, heat creeping into her glare. “My date with Oliver had nothing to do with you.”
I let out a low, humorless laugh. “Do you want to know how much money he won?” The going term between the frat boy execs wasPussy Points.
“No! That’s—”
“Let’s just say I knew exactly how far that date went.” I spent the entire night wide awake—wired with worry, seething with rage, imagining the satisfying sound of the bastard’s neck snapping.
“What?” Her fingers fly to cover her mouth. “We didn’t—”
“I know.”Thank fuck.
“So, he got money? For…me?”
I nod. “He also earned a concussion.”
“Theo!” Her mouth pops open. “What did you do? He just…vanishedafter that night.” The concern winding through her words is palpable.
Is it for me or the asshole?
“You asking if I offed him?” I tilt my head. “If I started by ripping off every finger he laid on you, then buried him somewhere so deep even the earth would forget him?”
She gasps, evidently shocked by the vivid details of my fantasy. One I’ve replayed far too many times.
“I wanted to.” The asshole is lucky he walked away with just a concussion. “I struck a deal with Alistair. They got rid of Oliver, and I agreed to take on an oil conglomerate campaign the firm had been trying to shove down my throat.”
“The Gaiatrax Energy Group job?” she asks. “I always wondered how that made its way into your portfolio. It was so out of character.”
“Trust me, it’s notinmy portfolio,” I say. “It was one hell of a moral dilemma.” And what made me realize I needed out of AdCraft. An infraction I’ve been attempting to repent for with every client I sign to my new firm’s roster. “But Oliver had to go.”
“You gave someone a concussionandsold your environment-loving soul for me?”
“Tell me again how I hated you.”
“But…you left. And left me with the sharks.”
“I figured that if I didn’t leave, I’d end up destroying both of our careers. Yours maybe inadvertently, but ruin it nevertheless. And I rerouted those sharks before getting out,” I remind her. “In exchange for not poaching any of my loyal clients from AdCraft, Alastair’s grandsons ended up with major promotions—far the fuck away from you. Axel is terrorizing the Japan office, Dante is screwing over Brazil, and Jett has beenworkingremotely from strip clubs all across Europe.”
“Theo, that’s—” Her breath stutters. “That’s a lot of newinformation.”
“I’m not expecting you to do anything with it.”
She meets my gaze. “Then whatdoyou expect?”
“Nothing.” My care for her isn't about a return on investment.
Her eyes drop to my mouth. “Right. No strings.”
Not what I meant—at all—but if sticking to that rule is what she needs…
“Whatever you want, Isla.”
