Page 85 of Devoured By You

“Sure thing.” I ended the call. Despondent didn’t even begin to cover what I felt after that conversation with Dad. I thought about calling one of my brothers and talking it through, but something told me they’d say the same thing as Dad. Your job is to get well. Leave this to us. You’ll be back in the thick of it soon enough.

The question was, would there be anything to return to?

I lost track of time, mulling over that fucking story. How had the journalist who’d written this destructive piece dug up confidential company details? There had to be a leak. And if there was, I’d haul that fucker over the coals until their skin melted. They had no idea of the damage they’d caused, and when it came to my business, forgiveness wasn’t a concept I got into bed with.

Picking up my iPad, I checked several news apps. Each one carried the same story. There was no escaping it. I navigated to my email to see if Dad had sent anything through. He hadn’t, but another email caught my attention. A few weeks ago, I’d set up a Google alert for any mentions of Jill after we’d reunited on the ship. Not for stalking purposes, but more because I’d been curious about what kind of public presence she had. So far, the only alerts I’d gotten were the odd book site or blogger mentioning one or more of her books.

This one was not that.

This one was… was…

Fucking horrendous.

And all my fault.

Trolls had gone after Jill, keyboard warriors whose vicious rhetoric had the power to destroy careers or, at the very least, destroy a person’s peace of mind. I navigated to a few of the top book sites. A raft of one-star reviews, all dropped within the last few hours, littered the pages. Warning readers not to buy books or support an author who’d hooked up with the CEO of a company responsible for the deaths of two innocent people. There was even a viral TikTok with over three million views, and the comments were heavily skewed against Jill.

I wiped clammy hands on my shorts and carried on scrolling, like a rubbernecker unable to tear their gaze away from a devastating car wreck. This would destroy Jill. She’d already had a wobble with her current manuscript, although she seemed to have ironed out the kinks. But still. Confidence was a fragile thing—hard to build, easily destroyed.

My worst fears had come true. Not only had my mistakes single-handedly wrecked my business, but, by association, I’d wrecked Jill’s, too.

At least I had the power to fix hers, even if I’d crush myself in the process.

The jury was out on whether my own would survive.

Chapter 30

Jill

Today’s news is tomorrow’s

fish and chip paper.

Hopefully.

Driving a Ferrari was so much fun. I’d never bought into the concept of supercars. To me, a car was simply a convenient way of traveling from A to B. One journey in this pillar-box-red beauty had changed my mind.

Flavia was a dream.

Yes, I’d named her. A car this beautiful deserved an equally beautiful name. I might offer Blay sexual favors for years to come if he signed the ownership papers over to me.

Although, that wouldn’t work. I’d already given away the goods for free. Darn it. I’d have to come up with something else to bargain with.

I grinned at my inner thoughts, coasting slowly to a stop outside the restaurant where I’d arranged to meet Kelsey for lunch. It felt so good to be out, even if a twinge of guilt pinched my insides. I pushed the feeling aside. As much as I’d inserted myself as his unofficial carer, he did have a full-time qualified nurse on call twenty-four seven. I deserved a few hours off to catch up with one of my best friends.

The valet came forward, opening my door. I took his hand, climbing out from a car so low-slung that I’d had to perform a deep squat just to stand upright. A few sessions driving Flavia and I’d soon have buns of steel. Better than sweating it out in a gym any day of the week.

My phone pinged. I checked the message. Kelsey was sitting on the patio, and apparently, I was drinking a cosmo. It’d have to be just the one. I could imagine Blay’s reaction if I returned to his house in an Uber, having abandoned Flavia after downing several cocktails in the middle of the day.

I hadn’t even asked him if I could drive her. Then again, he had told me to take my pick of several cars in his garage.

The hostess led me through the restaurant to the patio overlooking a body of water. The sun glistened like diamonds floating on the surface. Kelsey got to her feet as I approached, flinging her arms around me in a hug so tight my lungs protested.

“I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you called.” She peered at me through narrowed eyes. “You’re looking a little peaky, which, given that you’re in South Florida at the height of summer, is a concern. And you’re thinner than when I saw you last, too. Are you looking after yourself? Because you’re no use to that billionaire of yours if you don’t take good care of yourself.”

“I’ve missed you, too. And I’m fine. I’ve been writing, not sunbathing.” I sat down, as did she.

“You have? Oh, Jill, that’s marvelous. You figured out how to fix your manuscript?”

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