The Maverick - Page 22

AVA

Once Bruno was gone, Charlie put his hand to his chest and gasped, “My God, he absolutely cannot control himself. He really is a monster, isn’t he?”

I watched him look around the room, seeking confirmation. He wanted to know that his theatrics were having the desired effect and they were. Many of the board members were twisting in their seats, wondering about their investments. For the first time in my life, my actions were literally the issue. I suggested Delilah’s limited contract and I made sure Eddy could travel with us from LA. I didn’t know what to do to fix it. All I felt was shame. I let my own desire trump protecting Bruno. And I wasn’t sure how to roll that back.

Smiling, Charlie said, “I don’t know how everyone here feels, but I think we should vote now. Why wait till Difranco gets us caught up in some scandal or a lawsuit before we dethrone him?”

Projected on the wall and booming through the speakers, an irritated Andrew Warner snapped, “Oh, shut up, Charles. You can’t take a man’s company from him just because you don’t like him or the risks he takes. He has to actually screw up first.” My racing heart started to slow. Andrew was on my side. He had been from the start. He wanted Bruno to succeed.

Affronted, Charlie snarled, “He has screwed up. Didn’t you see the evidence I presented?”

Andrew retorted, “He also produced a chart-topping single today and while some of you may find it distasteful, people fuck in rock and roll, Charlie.” There were some snickers from the peanut gallery before Andrew continued. “Personally, I’d like to hear from Ms. Childs. I want to know her thoughts on the situation and see if she has a proposal that will allow us board members to feel comfortable with what’s happening at LSA.”

Charlie harrumphed, dropping into the seat next to me and rolling his eyes as he said, “Yes, Ms. Childs, do tell us why you’re banging the coworker you’re meant to be supervising?”

I stood, taking my time and smoothing down my skirt with my hands. “There’s no excuse,” I said. “Sleeping together wasn’t the best choice on my part or Bruno’s.”

“Clearly,” Charlie snarked.

“But I stand by Bruno’s decisions for LSA,” I argued. “What he said was true. The Tuckers needed a show of good faith. And honestly, Eddy is so talented that she’s worth the risk involved.”

“Are you honestly implying that your personal relationship with Mr. Difranco had no influence on you supporting his risky behaviors?” Charlie asked incredulously.

It didn’t. I trusted Bruno’s choices even when I thought he’d despise me for the rest of our lives. I’d always known he was capable of running LSA Records. Always. I genuinely believed that the Difrancos put me in charge of him just so he could learn to trust himself. Bruno could run LSA without me. I was sure of it.

Suddenly, I could see the plan. The route out of the situation we were in. All I had to do was forgo everything I’d ever worked for. It was actually kind of beautiful; he and I had finally come full circle. If I sacrificed myself for Bruno, he would succeed, just like I had all those years ago, when he sacrificed himself for me. It should have felt hard, but it didn’t. I took a deep breath, and then smiling, I said, “Bruno is unconventional, but he’s the best. LSA matters to me. It’s all I’ve known in my life and I’m willing to bet it all on Bruno because he is what’s best for this company.”

Andrew questioned me. “What do you mean?”

“If Bruno doesn’t do as he promised—come up with two more singles in the next month—then I’ll sell my twenty-six percent stake in the company to the board, leaving Bruno with a twenty-five percent stake. He’ll still be one of the largest shareholders but not by much, giving you the power to either oust him or control him, although I doubt he’ll stick around to be controlled.” Andrew snickered at my honest perception of Bruno’s character. “However, if Bruno succeeds, I will give him my full twenty-six percent and the majority stake in LSA Records.”

Charlie started to cackle. “Oh, this is rich. You are smart enough to realize that this scenario of yours is lose-lose for you, right?”

Wearing the kind of smirk that Bruno favored most of the time, I turned to him and said, “I do and delightfully, that means I’ll never have to lay eyes on you or swallow back the vomit you elicit anytime you come near me.”

Charlie paled.

Grinning, Andrew moved past my scathing comment, noting, “I’m not going to lie; this is an odd offer, Ava.” He didn’t usually refer to me by my first name and I knew it was because he felt concerned for me. “I am not exactly sure what the board gains by losing you as a member.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I explained myself. “I’m going to step down. I’ll take the hit for all of our impropriety and Bruno will still get it done. He doesn’t need my supervision. He never did. His vision for this company is going to make you all richer.”

Clarifying my point, Andrew said, “So you’re saying that time and success without your supervision should prove to the members of this board that Mr. Difranco is the man to captain this ship.”

I nodded.

Andrew scratched his chin and then shook his head. “No, that’s not exactly how it’s going to go down. Despite your proclivity for your bad boy boss”—he smiled at his own joke—“many of us have faith in your ability to run the day-to-day operations at LSA Records.” Heads around the table bobbed, confirming his point. “So I purpose this. We’ll take your bet, Ms. Childs, in writing—you can wager your share of LSA Records to prove your faith in Mr. Difranco, but you will not step down as COO. Instead, you will end your affair and relieve yourself from working on the projects that fall under Mr. Difranco's purview so as to avoid further impropriety. As you’ve pointed out, this will prove that Bruno can manage his chart-topping miracle on his own.”

My stomach flipped. The thought of walking away from Bruno made me want to shrivel up and die, but I wouldn’t let him lose his parents’ company because of me.

“Fair enough,” I agreed. “Vote if you have to or just go ahead and draw up the papers. I’ll sign them, as long as you consent to one more term.”

“Okay…” Andrew said hesitantly.

“Our deal must be confidential. No one outside of this room can know, especially not Bruno.”

Once I’d signedthe paperwork, I went home. I poured myself a glass of wine. I sipped it until it was empty, and then I poured myself another and another. When I was good and plastered, I sent Bruno a text.

I can’t work with you or date you anymore. Good luck. I know you can do it!

There wasnothing about the words that felt right. Breaking up with him was nothing I wanted, and I hated exclamation points, but drunk me couldn’t think of any way to imply how deeply I believed in him and how much I wanted to encourage his success, so I sent a stupid detached exclamation point. I didn’t wait for him to reply. I turned off my phone and went to bed.

Despite my anxiety, the wine lulled me to sleep, so I wasn’t sure how much time passed between my text and Bruno banging at the door to my apartment. It felt like minutes, but it was more likely hours.

From the comfort of my pillow, I heard him yelling, “Open the goddamn door, Ava.”

Moving from drowsy to alert in a matter of seconds, I scurried through my living room. He was still banging when I unlatched the chain lock and threw open the door.

“Shhhhhh,” I whisper-yelled with my pointer finger pressed to my lips. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re going to wake my neighbors.”

“Who cares?” he stormed, stomping inside without waiting to be invited. It was the first time he’d been in my home. It was the same apartment the Difrancos’ bought for me to live in when I was a teenager, a twelve-hundred-square-foot one-bedroom on the Lower East Side. At the time, I knew it was nothing like their lavish life, but for me it was a palace and it was close enough to work. All these years later, it remained my favorite place in the world. Momentarily thrown off his game, Bruno said, “This is where you live?”

I nodded. And he marched around, looking in the bedroom and the bathroom.

“Why?” he asked. “What is your salary?”

“I make good money.” I sighed. “I just don’t need more than this.”

Seemingly flabbergasted by my home, he poked around a bit more, touching my things and sniffing about, like my life had become an utter curiosity, and then suddenly he seemed to remember that he’d arrived with a purpose.

“Did you break up with me in a text?” He hurled the question at me as an accusation.

“Were we dating?” I asked, trying to be cheeky.

He didn’t laugh. “I’m gonna try that again. Ready?”

I nodded, feeling everything inside me start to crumble.

“Did you tell me you love me today and then a handful of hours later, break up with me in a text?” He sounded eerily calm, and he kept opening and closing his fist like his knuckles were aching.

“No,” I said, even though I did.

“But you can’t date me or work with me anymore.”

“Right.” I choked on the word.

Frustrated, he snarled, “How is that not breaking up with me, Ava?”

“For now,” I said. “I can’t do any of those things now.” I’d fallen asleep in the clothes I wore to work. Cool air whistled from a window that needed to be resealed, hitting my legs, awakening my skin and reminding me how his touch made me quiver. I wanted to run across the room and press my lips to his.

“Why not?” he asked with his brows furrowed.

“Because I can’t.” I could see his anger ricocheting up notch by notch.

“Just can’t. That’s what you're going with.” I wanted him. I loved him. But he had to realize that us being together could cost him everything.

“It’s not appropriate now,” I pleaded.

He threw his arms in the air. “Who fucking cares? We are the top of the heap, Ava. Our reputations don’t matter.”

That wasn’t really true. His reputation might be able to take the hit, but mine would never recover. I didn’t care about that but as a force of habit, I said, “Mine does.”

His face fell. And as if I’d punched him, he muttered, “Right, how did I forget?”

I wasn’t exactly sure why those words hit him so hard. I took a step toward him and he took a step back. Putting his hands up, he said, “I give up. I have enough to worry about right now. I don’t need to fight for something you don’t give a shit about.”

Before I knew what was happening, he pushed past me, walked out, slammed the door, and he was gone.

Tags: Lola West Romance
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