Page 123 of Bossy Wicked Prince
I didn’t.
Nobody had to teach Cat how to love. Her parents let her down just as badly as mine did, but she learned to love anyway, intuitively. Because she’s better than me in every conceivable way.
So maybe I should just let her go. She deserves someone who can love just as freely and naturally as she does.
Pippa shakes her head, and I hate the pity I see in her expression now. “It’s time to leave Cat alone now, Nate. If she wants to forgive you, it’s going to be if and when she wants to, not because you talked her into it. Okay?”
She walks away, leaving me with the small comfort that Cat has someone like Pippa in her corner when I can’t be.
38
NATE
“Are you sure you want to do this?” James asks.
“No,” I admit. “But I have to give the tabloids something. Blood for blood, right?”
I turn toward Sharmi, James’s top publicist. He suggested I consult with her before my meetings with the tabloids. She’s five foot nothing and looks like a Disney princess, but after spending a week with her, I’ve seen her prove over and over again that she’s a bulldog.
“Blood for blood, kill for kill,” she says firmly.
I bring my shoulders back. “Then let’s bring him in.”
She signals to an assistant, who scurries to the door and lets in Peter Cutter. He slumps in, his hair damp from the light rain outside.
In person, Cutter gives off total dweeb vibes. He’s arranged his thinning hair into an elaborate combover, and he’s wearing a shiny button-up that might have been in fashion fifteen years ago. You’d never guess that he’s behind some of the nastiest tabloid articles about Cat.
Even though we broke up, the blogs and papers haven’t stopped. They keep pumping out rumors about how Catmasterminded our meetings, manipulated me into falling for her, and flaunted the pricey gifts she got from her lovesick paramour. They all cast her as some evil jezebel bent on destroying an innocent man.
Except for the Toronto Tea. They’re fixated on me. They publish interviews with so-called experts about how men in power abuse their position to make their underlings act against their best interests. They’ve called for me to be fired, and the comments under the articles all speculate on how deceived poor Cat must feel. I’m no fan of the Tea, but at least it’s nice to know that there are people out there not seeing Cat as the villain.
The rumors are bad enough. What really disturbs me are the truths. For every piece of complete bullshit, the tabloids seem to have some kernel of truth.
Cat staying in my suite at the Mandarin.
Kyle Ambrose harassing her, and me cutting off our deal right there.
Her spending Thanksgiving with me and the guys.
Pictures of us dining together in Paris.
With everything they’ve published on us, it’s obvious papers have some source inside UPS. Susie has been obsessively vetting everyone in the office, but our publicists were out of ideas on how to make it stop. James suggested a consult with Sharmi, and we’ve come up with a plan to end the coverage.
Cat might not want to hear from me, but I can at least do this much.
“Good to meet you in person, Nathaniel,” Cutter says with a smug smile. “Or do you prefer Nate?”
“No,” I say sharply.
His smile falters, and Sharmi takes charge. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Cutter. I’ll cut to the chase. You’re done writing anything about Caitlin Daniels. If we see any more stories about her, we may be forced to take legal action.”
“I can write about whoever I want,” he scoffs. “You don’t get to tell me what to cover.”
“There is no relationship, professional or personal, between Mr. Walsh and Ms. Daniels. She no longer works at UPS, and they aren’t in contact. You might as well make this easy on yourself, Mr. Cutter. Stories about her might get clicks now, but they’ll dry up soon.”
“And if you’re still protecting her, she obviously means something to Walsh.”
“Mr. Walsh doesn’t want you thinking that printing gossip aboutanyof his employees is acceptable. In the interest of their privacy, he’s willing to offer you a deal.”
