The Billionaire's Ex-Wife (Jameson Brothers 1)

"To micromanage!"

"And even if I was to discount Eddie, and the onboarding, and everything else, I have perfect attendance when it comes to work functions. Had. That's completely out the window now, and it's my fault, Trinity. My oversight. I shouldn't have improvised to go along with this...this…"

Sam faltered suddenly, and Trinity turned away. She was so angry she didn't trust herself not to strangle him with his own headphone cords. "I have to go." She wasn't certain her dismissal even made sense in the context of their closet haven, but she didn't care. "Don't call me unless whatever you have to say pertains to work. That way you'll at least enjoy the conversation."

She pulled the door open and stormed out. She brushed by a few couples milling about on the staircase, but couldn't care less if they suspected where she had been or what she had done.

All that mattered was that Sam see her leave angry. She didn't want him to know that the heart she had worked so hard to mend was in very real danger of breaking again.

Chapter Eight

Sam

If Trinity was only going to respond to work memos, then she was forcing Sam's hand. There were only so many unreturned texts and unanswered voicemail messages he was willing to leave in her inbox before resorting to using the company letterhead.

Miss Jameson:

As per our discussion last week re: the application of perfectionism, I wanted you to know that you were both right and wrong in your estimation. While it's true I pursue excellence in every aspect of my life, the area where you perceive continuous oversight is where I previously devoted the most attention (with mixed results).

Your contributions to our previous "collaboration" are to be lauded. I only ever wanted to emulate your example.

Your compassion, and ability to analyze the needs of those around you, is something I have always admired. I understand now that allowing our collaboration to be so frequently interrupted in the past might have given you the impression that I lacked focus, but I want you to know I have always understood deep down what is most important. I'm sorry that I failed to convey this understanding, despite being given repeated opportunities to do so.

They were more opportunities than I deserved.

You are an exceptional partner, and I can only hope moving forward that I prove as well-suited and worthy.

The language was overdoing it, even for him, but he figured the extra formality would call her attention to the real meaning behind it. He hit 'send' and sat back in his borrowed office chair, drumming his fingers on his borrowed office desk. He gazed out the window and wondered if he should consider the New York City skyline borrowed as well.

The office he presently sat in used to belong to him before he made the decision to move out west. Now it doubled as an unofficial, and more private, conference room. Taking it over today after working out of Eddie's brownstone had been something of a bittersweet homecoming. He ran his hand along the familiar polished surface of his cherry wood desk. Everything was transparent and minimalistic in the L.A. office—even the plants, to some extent. There was a certain gravitas to old, expensive furniture.

His e-mail window flashed, and Sam craned himself forward so fast he nearly banged his knees on the desk he had just been admiring. Sure enough, the response to his memo was from Trinity.

Mr. Jameson:

Thank you for your earlier memo

. I think I understand what you were attempting to say. All the same, I will have to ruminate on it.

In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you could avoid calling me 'Miss Jameson' moving forward. I have never been 'Miss Jameson'. I do note that an attempt was made re: "Miss", and admit the easiness of the error. Still, I thought I would bring it to your attention.

I will see you at the communication workshop this Thursday. I trust these memos are good practice in the meantime.

"Damn it, Trinity." It felt good to breathe life into her name after the stiffness of his memo, even with a curse.

Sam drummed his fingers again. He debated calling down to see if Trinity had come into the office today. Hell, he could call her up to him if he really wanted to...but some self-preserving instinct stayed his hand. Better not to pull rank to try and get her to talk to him. He had tried it before toward the end of their marriage, and it only succeeded in pushing her further away.

He would have to wait until the communication workshop. It was the only avenue left to him.

After that, the day of the workshop couldn't come soon enough. He woke every night leading up to it in a cold sweat, clutching the sheets and aching for the phantom body of the woman who had once been his. She would be his again; he was determined to learn from his mistakes and win her back for good.

And this time, he wouldn't let his commitment to the agency get in the way. He could have his career, and Trinity, too. Other people in his line of work found a balance.

Why couldn't he?

"Yo! Sam!" Eddie was the first to greet him the day of the workshop as Sam's limo pulled up outside the conference center. Sam got out and brushed a wrinkle from his suit, taking his time to correct his appearance

"Eddie." He gave his usual stony greeting. "Where's Trinity?"