Page 77 of The Refusal

“You want to say we’regood friends,Jo?”

Emotion is seething under his skin, in his eyes, and my heart takes off. After the weirdness at my office last night, something is going on here that I can’t quite grasp. Why isn’t he suggesting alternatives? Goddammit, why isn’t he talking more? I think, too late, that we shouldn’t be having a personal conversation like this in front of two undoubtedly curious PR ladies.

I shake my head at him, examining my hands in my lap.

“Perhapsgood friendsis the wrong term to use,” I say.

“What would you call it, Jo?” His words have a sharp edge.

I lick my lips, stretch out my hand to wrap it around the glass of water on the table. I can’t look at him again. He’s like this ominous presence in the room, a dark cloud growing bigger with every second that passes.

“Maybe it would be helpful to mention our mentoring relationship,” I say, aware of Carly furiously scribbling notes at my side.

“Are youserious?” Janus’s voice comes out like the crack of a whip.

“Perhaps it would be easier if we don’t call it anything,” Carly says brightly, smoothing over the awkward. “We don’t name it so to speak, we could just describe the regularity of meeting and contact …”

Julie is nodding in agreement. “Yes, that works, I like it actually, specifics, meetings …”

Standing up, Janus shoves back his chair with a muttered “Fuck!” He rakes an agitated hand through his hair and walks to the window. The sky is dark, splatters of rain starting to land on the pane. Julie’s eyes narrow on him speculatively before looking down at the paper in front of her.

“If we put in the names of the team from each side working on …”

Janus swings around. “Fuck this, Jo. You know these responses are bullshit. This is not what this was, and I, for one, am not going to lie.”

The words drop into the room like oil in vinegar. Julie and Carly both turn toward him, eyes wide, their expressions no doubt mirroring mine. I open my mouth then snap it shut. He’s never lost it with me. I’ve seen him agitated, but I haven’t seen fury brewing like this: eyebrows knitted together in a sharp frown, lips curled, teeth almost bared; and everything is curling up and withering inside me. I don’t want to have this discussion here. I’ve told Carly we’re just friends. Heat crawls up my face. Oh,God. Why didn’t I take the five minutes with him? Why wasn’t I more honest with her? She said to me once she could hide anything if she knew the real story. When did I become a person who lied to cover things up?

“I can’t—” I start.

Janus swings his arm out from his side as he strides back to the table. “I know you can’t, Jo, and that’s the whole reason this can’t go on right there.”

My heart hits a brick wall. Is he … Is he …? What is he saying? I close my eyes, trying to hold on to something,anything. My eyes snap open when he starts talking again, his stormy gaze flicking over all of us like we’re being showered with hailstones.

“Right, Carly.” His voice is tight, almost dangerous. “You can put out whatever Ms. Williams here deems is a fitting response. I’m having no part of it. Julie, if you are contacted by the press, then our line is ‘no comment.’” He turns to me, and his gaze rakes over my face. “I hope that makes you happy, Jo,” he says in clipped tones then walks toward the door, wrenches it open, and he’s gone. It takes me right back to the first meeting I ever had with him.

I blink at the doorway before coming back to the two women who are staring at the empty space in astonishment. Julie does a little double take, but then her face relaxes, and she nods at me. Something slithers down my spine. How many other stormy meetings with rejected women has she sat through? Are the models the ones who are normally storming out?

“Can I stay and hear what you’re planning to say? I’d appreciate you keeping me in the loop. We will say ‘no comment,’ but if they write more stories, that might need to change,” Julie says.

I glance down at my hands, clamp them together to stop the tremor. “Of course,” I say. I don’t want them to see that my hands are shaking. What did he mean this can’t go on? Is he saying he’s finished with me? I try and swallow down the tightness at the back of my throat; all because I wanted to protect my reputation with him. A small slice of anger bubbles up again. That’s shit.

Carly glances at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I can’t believe how calm my voice sounds. But I’m not even close to being okay. I hate myself. I hate this situation.

“I think we should put out a press release that doesn’t even acknowledge this,” she says, thoughtfully tapping the draft in front of her with a long glossy fingernail. “Let’s not give oxygen to this sort of speculation. I don’t think we should say you’re good friends. I think we keep it professional: say you’ve been awarded the contract and keep the focus on big tech companies’ security problems, on how Janus Industries needs to safeguard itself.”

“Distract them from one story with another. I like that.” Julie says, sitting up straighter, nodding and smiling. “Carly and I can work on it together, put out a press release from each company. I’m sure I can persuade Janus to run with that.”

“Won’t it raise questions about whether Janus Industries has security problems …”

“I think you handled it brilliantly with Caltech, Jo, by saying big companies need to be at the forefront of the field in a fast-moving area of tech,” Carly says. “We can play that angle. Are you happy to offer an interview if they want to talk to you about issues in security for large firms? It would be valuable publicity, arguably an excellent opportunity while the interest is high.” Her tone takes on the enthusiasm of a PR person scenting a story they can twist.

“Won’t I be grilled about our relationship?”

“Undoubtedly. We can say in advance you’re not prepared to comment, but they’ll still ask. I can coach you on deflecting the questions.”

Something worms through me. Who willingly puts themselves in the firing line like that?

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