“But how isthatlegal?” Eric asks.
Max shrugs. “If I used the data for, say, embezzlement or insider trading,thenI’ll have broken the law. All I’ve done so far is to overstep the app store terms of service. I wrote an evil piece of software, but it passed their shitty quality review. That’s on them.”
“That’s…amazing,” I whisper.
“No.” Max shakes his head. “It’s really not. But this is the world we live in, Alex. Some of us understand how it actually works, and some of us don’t.”
Now there’s a sobering thought.
Carl Bayer clears his throat and then steers us all back to the topic at hand. “What is our comfort level with Mr. Tatum attending the Big Island Conference?”
“Very high,” Max responds. “His decision to attend was sudden. But now he holds a nonrefundable plane ticket. And just this morning he bought a new golf club for the trip.”
“What a party animal,” Eric mumbles. And if I weren’t so stressed out about seeing my ex at the conference, I’d laugh.
“Has he stopped trying to contact you?” Carl asks me.
I shake my head. “The last message was two days ago—the one I forwarded to you.” Carl nods. “None since then. But, of course, he mentioned the conference—and wanting to get back together.” I fight off a shudder.
“Right,” the older man says. “So that’s why we’re going to keep him away from you in Hawaii. Our goal is simple—minimal contact with Mr. Tatum. He’ll get no access. No extended verbal contact—nothing beyond a passing ‘hello,’ and no closer than ten feet. Not until he’s back in New York, anyway. That’s when we’ll approach him for further negotiations.”
“Negotiations?” Eric asks.
“That part is on a need-to-know basis,” his father says.
My face burns again. Nobody knows I’m pregnant. Jared Tatum has no idea. I’m going to eventually have to tell him, and convince him to sign away his custodial rights. There will probably be a great deal of money involved in this negotiation.
Carl Bayer and a lawyer are going to handle the whole thing. But I already feel dirty.
“There are a few ways we can work this at the conference,” Max Bayer says. “But one idea in particular stands out.”
“That I should just stay home?” I ask, looking away from the screen. The idea of trying to avoid Jared for a week straight exhausts me.
“You can if you wish,” Max says gently.
“No, I really can’t. I’ve bet my entire career on this product launch.” That’s not an exaggeration. “So, hit me with your second-best solution.” Although nothing short of time travel can fix the hideous mistake I made by trusting Jared Tatum.
“If Tatum thinks you’ve moved on, he’ll be less likely to bother you,” Carl says. “So your bodyguard for the week will play the part of your new boyfriend.”
“Your big, strong, grumpy, possessive boyfriend,” Max says with obvious glee.
“Oh, jeez.” I laugh, but it’s not a horrible idea. “So who’s playing the role of my…” I break off, because it hits me. Now I know exactly why Eric is at this meeting.
But when I glance at him, he’s staring intently at the top of his water bottle, as if something fascinating were printed there.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any more awkward.
3
Eric
“Max,you’re such an asshole. A first rate, manipulating, stinking pile of shit.”
“Tell me how you really feel.” My brother actually laughs.
To my credit, I sat through the rest of the meeting in total silence. I only made one noise, the moment my brother happened to mention when Alex was leaving for Hawaii. I made an honest-to-god choking sound when he said that the conference starts in forty-eight hours.
I’ve been railroaded into traveling five thousand miles. And now that Alex has left the building—escorted by my father and Scout—I can finally tell my brother exactly what I think of his plan. “Of all the asshole maneuvers you’ve ever pulled, this is the assholiest.”