The Activist and Her Billionaire by Kacy Cole

Author:Kacy Cole [Cole, Kacy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hubba Hubba Romance
Published: 2024-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Jack

“Ican’t talk to you right now,” Brynne says, pushing me away.

I held out my arm and drew her into me. She melts against me.

“I give up,” she whispers.

“I want to make it right,” I whisper back. “I promise I will.”

“I don’t want any more promises. No more false hope,” she says. “I’m making plans. I’ll be out of there as soon as I can.”

“Gretchen, my receptionist, can help you with arrangements,” I say. “But the judge dismissed without prejudice. That means if you can get your uncle’s doctor to say-”

Brody butts in. He is close enough for me to hug him, too.

“Helping the other side, Jack?” he laughs half-heartedly. “Miss Casey, no hard feelings.”

He pushes past us. Brynne and I gaze into one another’s eyes. This is not the time or place to promise her that she and I were not some cheap ploy to get her to back down. Holding her just now, I realized how much I missed her, and it had only been a couple of days. It feels like we have been lovers forever, and this recent separation was the first time we had ever been apart.

She belongs with me. But I don’t have the right to tell her that. Not now. I let her go and watch from a distance as she approaches her bike chained to a street sign. She will bike home in her court dress, which I can see through when the sun hits it. She is wonderfully unique, and I am the one who made her sad.

I drive the other way back to the office. I will pick Gretchen’s brain to see what she thinks I should do, whether I salvage this situation or leave it alone. I start with Brynne’s response to the roses I sent. She did respond, which I take as a good thing. But the only thing she wrote was ‘K.’

What does that mean?

I dump my laptop in a guest chair at reception and lean over the console.

“What does it mean when someone sends the letter k as a response?” I asked Gretchen.

She blinks, staring at me blankly.

“It means ‘okay,’” she says with a tone like my question was beyond stupid. “Did you really not know that?”

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I came from the generation that could spell.”

“Just because of that snarky comment, I won’t help you,” she responds primly.

“Okay, thank you for explaining that to this pre-middle-aged person,” I say.

“Pre?” she asks.

I lean in across the receptionist's console.

“Do you want your Christmas bonus?” I asked, laughing.

She giggles and tosses me a card. I read.

“Good God,” I say. “We just agreed my personal life is mine, and she’s doing this. Such a manipulator. Wait – this is tomorrow night?”

“So, are we back to her thinking Brynne Casey is your fiancé?” Gretchen laughs. “Because that is who the invite is specifically addressed to. The whole office part is in small print.”

“She’s out of her mind,” I complain. “She just won’t leave me alone.”

“I want to go,” Gretchen says under her breath.

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