Page 51 of Corrupted Empire

“What the fuck was that?” I ask.

Alexis looks over at me, frowning. “What do you mean? She disrespected me. She disrespected both of us.”

I scrub a hand through my hair and shake my head. “You shouldn’t have risen to the bait. Now I’m going to have to clean up your mess.”

Alexis gasps. “You’re one to talk! You’re constantly getting into some sort of trouble with the press. How dare you!”

“But I kept my composure!” I snap. “If I could keep my shit together, so could you. The point is that I’m trying very hard not to get in trouble with the press, and if I have to start worrying about how you’ll react in public, I’m fucked.”

“She brought up my father and Clara in the same conversation,” Alexis argues. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to walk away,” I bite out. “You’re a mafioso’s woman now. You need to be made of sturdier stuff than that, Alexis. People are going to test you. Felicity just did, and you failed massively.”

Alexis huffs and crosses her arms, looking out the window, muttering something under her breath.

“What was that?” I ask.

She spins to face me, snarling, “I said, maybe I don’t want to be a mafioso’s woman!”

Her words sting more than I would have anticipated. They are just another reminder that although she is back in my life, things are not the same as they used to be. Perhaps they never will be again.

Both of us stare out the window for the rest of the drive home.

18

Alexis

I type away on my laptop, listening to the distant traffic sounds that whisper through the window from the street far below. My eye strays to the folded newspaper on the corner of my desk, but I force myself to look back at my screen. It wouldn’t do any good to read it again. Plus, I have a load of work to do.

I keep typing. Keep glancing. Finally, I give in with a sigh and slide the newspaper in front of me, opening to the picture of the gorgeous, angry girl in the black dress.

A TALE OF TWO TEMPERS,it reads.

I’m so annoyed that the press has used my spectacle from two days ago as a way to remind the public of Gabriel’s previous outbursts that I can’t even enjoy the Dickens reference. The article makes it seem like I freaked out over nothing, which I suppose is how it would have appeared to an outsider. It’s not like I can set them straight either.

I groan and ball up the paper, tossing it in the recycling bin a few feet away. I miss. I swear.

My receptionist buzzes before I can get up to retrieve the paper, announcing that Clara has arrived. I tell her to let Clara in and try to grasp some semblance of calm before my best friend enters.

Clara comes in a second later, wearing a gray blazer and a matching pencil skirt. I’m still not used to seeing her in business attire, though she has been doing odd jobs for me over the past couple of weeks. She is smiling, but it slips down her cheeks when she clocks my grim expression.

“What is it?” Clara asks.

She glances over and sees the balled-up newspaper, then walks over to pick it up. She unravels it and frowns.

“You’re not still beating yourself up about this, are you?” Clara asks.

“I’ll be fine.” I wave away her concern. “Sit down. You wanted to run an idea past me?”

Clara sits and slides the folder over the desk. “I’ve had the finance team draw up some figures for expanding a few of the ad hoc treatment centers,” she says. “It just needs your approval.”

I look over the paperwork, impressed by Clara’s thorough report. “That’s easy enough,” I say. “Approved.”

Clara grins and takes the folder back. “That’s great!”

I clear my throat. “I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about as well.”

Clara’s smile dips, and she cocks a brow. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

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