Page 72 of Begin Again, Part 1

He drained his glass and threw on his blazer. But the tie remained on his desk. His fear and worry were stifling him enough as it was. No need to throw a noose around his neck too.

"Let's go!" Liam said as he followed her out of his office.

He needed an outlet for his fear, and the three marketing heads and their army of subordinates were the perfect targets.

Within minutes, the boardroom was in chaos as he went off on everyone.

"Why is it taking so long to sign a damn influencer?" He demanded as he paced the room and scanned everyone's faces. They all did an excellent job of avoiding eye contact with him.

The longer the meeting went on, the lower everyone arranged around the oval thirty-seater table sunk in their chairs. It didn't take long for the group chats to explode with updates and urgent SOS texts to the rest of the business. The Dragon was breathing fire today, and anyone with common sense would stay away from the 36th floor. The constant pinging of the phones buzzing with minute-to-minute updates pissed Liam off even more.

Still pacing like a bear with a sore head, he growled, "switch off the damn phones!"

"Yes, sir!" Everyone sparked to life as they scrambled to turn off their iPhones and Samsungs, cutting off all communication with the outside world and killing all hope of a possible rescue from the fire-breathing Dragon on the warpath.

"Now that I have your attention, someone, anybody, please tell me why I don't have an influencer," he demanded, zoning in on Sarah, a vivacious redhead with legs for days, and every short skirt imaginable to show them off.

"We're working on it. We only got the brief last week."

"So?" Liam frowned at her, daring her to say something stupid.

"We're working hard on it—"

"I don't pay you to work hard!" He snarled, his eyes stormy with fury. "Work smarter, people! Pull up the top ten trending influencers."

Everyone was on their laptops at lightning speed, randomly tapping keys on their keyboards, googling all the hottest influencers in the country.

Liam checked his Rolex, his scowl deepening. It was now thirty-five minutes since he left Eden on the sidewalk. She should be back already.

But what if she wasn't? A small voice, like a devil on his shoulder, niggled him. What if she was still a tearful mess, doubled over on the sidewalk somewhere? It was only right he checked on her, he reasoned as he unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts, pausing on her nickname—Princess.

It stared back at him, taunting him, reminding him he was the biggest asshole in the world for making a woman cry, especially one as tiny as her.

God, Princess, where are you? He wondered as he typed out an urgent text, checking where she was.'Meeting's already started. You're late.'

It sounded terse and formal as he read it over. Maybe he should add an emoji or two. But which one? The smiley one? Nah, this was no smiling matter. Maybe the heart. Women liked hearts, right? He'd never go wrong with hearts, he decided, as he added five to be doubly nice.

But what if—another small voice chimed in, throwing a spanner in the works— Eden misunderstood the hearts and read too much into his message?

"Fuck!" Liam growled, startling everyone in the room with the expletive. He erased the text and his string of heart emojis, highly pissed at himself for even worrying about her. It was her job to fix him.

"The list is up!" Sarah pointed at the screen, giving him a much-needed distraction.

Liam shoved the phone back in his pocket, his irritation rising the further down the list he went. As far as he could see, the top ten influencers were nothing to write home about. Sighing with disappointment, he addressed the team. "Tell me about Kimberley Allen."

Sarah's second in command rattled off facts about the influencer, all the things Liam could easily read on her website.

"Did I say I want her fake bio?" he asked, irritation seeping through his words. "Tell me everything that is not made up."

There was more urgent typing, sweating, and near-fatal heart attacks before Stanley, the head of PR, was brave enough to speak up.

"She's had six DUIs, a few club brawls, and an affair with the wife of a Minister of Parliament."

"Is this someone we want to associate with our brand? Why the hell is she even on this list?" Liam asked coldly. "Next!"

Someone sang Lydia Edwards' praises. She was number two on the list.

"Did I fucking stutter when I said I want all the information not written by a PR agency? Get me all her skeletons!" Liam exploded, slamming his fists on the table, almost upending a nearby glass brimming with water.

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