Bad Boy Rich

Emerson buries her head in her hands. “The finance department was reporting losses. We just narrowed it down to slow markets in Europe and with all the political changes being their focus.”

“You were reporting losses but didn’t tell me?” Wesley fires back, clenching his fist that sits on the table, ready to pounce at any moment. The veins in his neck stood out; a trait I noticed each time he reacted this way in my presence.

“Oh please,” Emerson argues with a ridiculed laugh. “You didn’t care what went on. Why the sudden interest in holding onto this venture? When we were together, you didn’t give a goddamn shit what I did. If it made you look good, that’s all you cared about.”

“And if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be this successful. This brand took off because our name was worth something. You were the one that decided to end that.”

“Because you were a cheating scumbag!” Emerson shouts back, much to my shock.

“Really?” Wesley deadpans. “So how is Carrington? I hear the Brazilian ladies are loving him being in Brazil without you.”

Emerson’s skin turns bright red; her lips stark white. Charlie shrugs at me, half-heartedly, before putting a stop to this madness.

“We’re not here to discuss your past or any personal matters. So please, for the sake of me and Milana, let’s not get into it. Now, here’s what we need to do next.”

It was clear the magnitude of the problem kept Charlie up all night. She handed Emerson and Wesley some legal documents, explaining to them her discussions with a close lawyer acquaintance in Europe and some laws that could potentially protect the perpetrators.

The legal talk went on for two hours. Refreshments were brought in—the coffee my savior—and I tried my best to note as much as I could with Emerson talking fast and arguing back-and-forth with Wesley.

It was difficult to focus on anything besides the animosity between these two ex-lovers. And I wondered: am I wearing the same rose-colored glasses that Emerson once wore? If things don’t work out between me and Wesley, would I resent and hate him as much as she does?

Doubt filled my over-thinking mind. I tried my best to concentrate on the real issue here but every now and then, I found myself watching the t

wo of them and questioning everything about why we were together.

How could he possibly be with me when he’s had her?

“Milana, did you jot that down?”

Emerson breaks my dysfunctional trance, thankfully, and brings me back to the reason why we were all here.

This lawsuit meant that I would be working non-stop, retrieving necessary documents for the court case, working with Emerson on fast tracking the new line and making sure that her schedule was freed up to focus only on this.

Charlie made it clear that Wesley and Emerson needed to unite to build the brand and make it stronger. Sonia—the wicked publicist from the west—was placed on conference call and listed all the events that she wanted the two of them to attend.

“No,” Emerson states, quick to shut her down. “I don’t see why we need to attend together.”

“Emerson, sweetheart, this brand needs to show a united front. Now is not the time for Wesley to be a silent partner. Okay, look, maybe the red-carpet stuff can be just you. But if I can get a slot to the business convention we discussed a few weeks back, the both of you will need to present.”

Lifting my eyes, trying not to draw attention to my gaze, my attention wanders from Charlie to Wesley. In front of him sat an empty coffee cup, and his cell. I only notice now that it begins to light up; text after text popping up on his screen. He glances down, scanning the message before raising his eyes back up to look at Emerson—not me.

My stare moves quickly back to my notepad, the same time my stomach begins to harden, followed by a wave of nausea. How did I get myself here? So easily became intimate with a man—more than any man—and have no clue who he was?

Despite what I read online about him, those texts could easily be from women that he saw on the side. It’s not a far-fetched thought; women threw themselves at him. What about that Farrah Beaumont. Am I that stupid to have jumped into a relationship with a man so quickly?

“Let’s reschedule New York for next week. Perfect, I guess, since Logan is in town and can take care of Lola.”

“Next week?” I ask, forgetting for a moment that Wesley sat across me.

“Yes, sorry, is that okay?” Emerson asks.

“Of course.” I smile, purposely meeting his gaze.

Wesley taps his fingertips on the table, leaning back in his chair rather annoyed.

“Thank God.” Emerson smiles with relief. “Vancouver we can bring forward to the following Saturday. Actually, why don’t we go straight from New York? Let’s get it out of the way. I’ll have Logan meet us there.”

“Sounds like a plan…”