Page 132 of One Bossy Disaster

Seduced by another pretty face until I believed she was authentic.

All because a forty-two-year-old man with cigarette burns on his past let his cock do the thinking.

Pathetic.

The video comes to an end as the girl in the overdone makeup and cat ears or whatever the hell it is on her head sweeps a hand at the camera and tells her viewers to follow.

Who knew the harbinger of my doom would look so ridiculous?

Whatever vile shit she’s spewing for views is working.

The video already has six hundred thousand views and I know those view counts lag. Millions of followers, mostly kids who’ve probably never heard of me before logging on to watch my real-time detonation.

Pure bullshit.

I’m deathly quiet, but my anger is a wordless force that almost makes Miss Cho flinch from across the room. She closes the video and looks at me again.

Still steady. Still calm. Still worried and trying so hard not to show it.

“Sir?”

“Obviously, Destiny Lancaster is off the program. Scrap the whole goddamned thing,” I bite off. “Once I calm down, I’ll decide if this is worth a lawsuit.”

She doesn’t say anything.

Unusual.

“Also, I’m going to have words with her. It can’t be avoided. Send her up the second she steps foot anywhere on my property—if she deigns to show her face.”

Maybe she won’t. That would almost be better.

Maybe she knows I’ll have a shit fit worthy of a Greek tragedy, so she’ll stay home and reap the consequences of her newfound celebrity status there.

Hannah purses her lips.

A clear sign that she disagrees with my strategy.

I shouldn’t care, but dammit, I do.

Silence is Hannah Cho’s greatest weapon. She wields it in meetings like an assassin’s sword. Unshakable, implacable calm whenever she disagrees.

I grind my teeth together and pace the floor a few times, waiting for her to speak.

Of course, she doesn’t.

“Well?” I clip. “You obviously have something to say, so spit it out, Miss Cho.”

She flicks her gaze up to mine, her eyes dark and cool. “Mr. Foster, I don’t believe Miss Lancaster is behind this hatchet job.”

I squint at her.

“You don’t...? How the hell can you possibly think that?” I snort. “I see it now. She suggested the otter trip so she could get us alone in a remote place. How she hacked my own goddamned drone, I can’t begin to fathom, but I’m going to find out. You have to admit, it’s deviously logical after Miss Dumas kicked off open season on my reputation.”

Devious because it worked.

I fuckinglet it,as easily as dropping a rotisserie chicken in a piranha tank.

I let my little head dictate my destiny.

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