Page 81 of Mr. Misunderstood

“She had more information,” Margaret says. She’s not defensive, just explaining. “But I won’t be using that private investigator again.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this go away,” I say. “Pay Alexandra Galanos off. Do whatever you have to do.

I don’t want to see her name in print again, or a new Twitter thread that gets picked up by the media.”

“Have you had any direct contact with Alexandra since your last face-to-face?” Margaret asks.

“No.” I turn off the water. Pinning the phone between my shoulder and ear, I reach for a dishtowel and begin drying my hand.

“Might I suggest that you give her a call?” She sounds like she’s recommending a dish on the menu.

“Why would I do that?”

“If she can be bought, I have a feeling the offer will need to come from you. She went to a lot of trouble to get your attention. She put months into this plan. If Kayla’s correct, and I suspect she is, Alexandra’s motivated by the loss of her mother. Grief is more powerful than money sometimes.”

“Fine.” I walk back to the picture window and stare out at the neighboring house beyond the falling-down barn. Kayla is outside now, throwing a tennis ball for Ava. Luna and Cleveland give chase, but Ava always wins. And Rocky just lies by the front door, waiting to go back inside.

“I’ll call Alexandra,” I continue. At this point, what do I have to lose? My reputation? I can always fix that—or pay Margaret to patch up the damage. “But while I handle the crazy blackmailing bitch, I need you to contain the failed engagement story.”

“You’re a demanding client, Gavin,” she says with a sigh. “We’ll do our best.”

“I’m not just any client, Margaret. You’ve known my situation was different from the beginning.” I turn away from the window and head up the stairs. I need to pack and get back to the city. “Goodbye, Margaret.”

I pause at the top of the stairs and scan through my phone’s directory. I find the number I’d renamed “Blackmailing Bitch” on that first limo ride to Kayla’s house what feels like a lifetime ago. I hit send on the call.

“Alexandra.”

It’s been a week since I last saw her. But my plan for this Friday night encounter doesn’t look anything like our last meeting. Still, I can’t believe it took her a single week to practically destroy my life.

She had a damn good plan.

I can admit that much, even though I despise her. And she isn’t the only one to blame for wreaking havoc on my life. I can’t hold her accountable for my heartbreak. I brought that on myself.

The door to the gym’s basement closes behind the woman who took a job at the place for the sole purpose of stalking me. I’m waiting beside the boxing ring. The irony of having this conversation beside those ropes isn’t lost on me. Hell, I’d rather challenge her to a physical match than verbally spar with her.

But she demanded a face-to-face meeting, and I wasn’t inviting her to my apartment. No one would question my presence at the elite fitness center even if I did arrive in a thousand-dollar, custom suit instead of my gym clothes. And despite the entire mess, she still has a fucking job at this place. When this is all over, I’ll call the management myself and demand answers.

“Hello, Gavin.”

She crosses the space and stops in front of me. She’s wearing a white Polo shirt with the gym’s logo and fitted blue jeans. She looks ready to work the next shift at the receptionist desk on the main floor. Her arms are crossed below her breasts, the fingers of her right hand drumming lightly on her bicep.

“This is exactly the type of place you would invite me when we were dating.” She glances around the room. “For a very different purpose, of course. Though I suppose there is little chance of getting caught. When Gavin Black asks for the ring, the staff has strict instructions to reserve it for your exclusive use. All that money you’ve made comes with a lot of perks, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. I built a company and made a fortune for the fucking ‘perks,’ ” I say. “It’s my way of ensuring I never get locked in a bathroom again.”

“But you still get beat up, don’t you?” She nods to the ring.

“On my terms.” I fold my arms across my chest.

She arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow and cocks her head. Her long ponytail falls over her shoulder. “I thought you called because you’re ready to deal. I assumed you’d tired of parading the girl next door around as your fiancée, and want this mess to go away.”

“I know who you are, Ms. Galanos.” If we’re going to battle beside the ring, using only our words, I’m determined to maintain the upper hand. “I’ll give you twenty million—”

Her smile fades, but her gaze sharpens. “The price was one hundred million to start.”

I shake my head. “I’ll give you twenty for the photos. I’ll also toss in a first-class, one-way ticket to Greece. You’ll receive the transfer as soon as you’ve landed. Stay away from New York, away from me, and away from the media for the next year, and I’ll transfer another million. And another the year after that. Same terms. Verbal agreement only. This will never be in writing.”

She lets out a laugh. Then her mouth forms a thin line. “No.”

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