I exhaled and took a seat on the sofa. Instead of coming to sit next to me, she perched on the stool for the grand piano.
“I want to cancel the meeting on Monday.”
She blinked once then twice, as if she were processing my words. “Just like that, you’ve changed your mind?”
“I had a chat with Tristan today and . . . I don’t like what I’m doing. I don’t want to get Verity back if it means lying and cheating to do it.”
Her head shot up and she stood. “Tristan changed your mind? What happened?”
“We’ve known each other a long time. It’s our job to keep each other in check, and we trust each other to tell us when we’re making a mistake.”
“And Tristan thinks you’re making a mistake?”
I patted the sofa next to me, inviting her to sit. “He pointed out the hypocrisy of me trying to restore Verity, Inc. as a bastion of truth when I had to lie to own it.”
“Right,” Sofia said, plonking herself on the sofa next to me.
“I’m not prepared to sacrifice my character just because Goode’s an arsehole.”
A small smile curled the edges of her lips. “You always know exactly the right thing to say.”
I wasn’t sure that was true, but I was all too happy to accept her change in mood. “I’m just telling you the truth.”
She nodded. “I know. And I appreciate that.” She slid her arms around my waist. I lifted my arm and she burrowed into my side. “I want you to be honest with me. Always. You know . . . for as long as we’re . . .”
“I promise.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring out onto Central Park, holding each other.
“Maybe you should go to the breakfast on Monday,” she said.
I knew owning Verity was hopeless now. There was no point in flogging a dead horse. “It’s fine. I’ve got to move on and honor my grandmother’s legacy in a different way.”
“Isn’t it worth one last shot?”
“I’ve been on this hamster wheel with Goode for years now. I need to step off, dust myself down, and break out of the cage. It’s done. I’ve made peace with it.”
Sofia tapped her fingers against my chest. “Just turn up to the breakfast on Monday—”
“Seriously, it’s fine. I’m over it.”
She pulled out of my arms and gave me a don’t-fuck-with-me look. “Hear me out. You know what I said about his ego? This is information you didn’t have before. You can make it work to your advantage. Go to the Monday meeting and confess. Tell him I work for you, what we’d been planning. Then tell him how much your grandmother’s legacy means to you.”
“He knows, Sofia. He doesn’t give a shit.”
“I’m not so sure. Like I said, ego drives that man. He just doesn’t want to end up with egg on his face. If you go to him and offer to keep him as a partner—”
“I’ve told you—I’ve offered a thousand times to go in and manage the business for him, to turn it around.”
“Goddamnit, Andrew, stop interrupting me. I’m telling you not to just manage the business. Offer to take all the risk by buying out the majority of the shares but keeping him as a minority shareholder. You put all the money in, do all the work turning around—under his minority ownership, at zero risk to him. If it fails, the deal states you have to buy him out—so publicly, it looks like you’ve sunk the ship. If you’re successful, he can publicly participate in the success because he’s still a shareholder.”
I took in what she was saying. Her suggestion put Goode in a position where he had nothing to lose, and a front-row seat to my humiliation to gain if I failed. That would be hard for him to pass up.
“You might be on to something. I just don’t know if he’ll be able to get over the fact that I’ve deceived him by sending you in to bat for me.”
“Maybe not, but you have nothing to lose by being honest. We’re in New York anyway.”
She was right: if I didn’t try, I’d always wonder if I’d left a stone unturned.
“I’ll try, but you know, Tristan fed me another home truth tonight and it’s got me thinking.” I explained to her how he made me see I wasn’t prepared if Goode actually agreed to sell. “I wondered if you’d be interested in putting together some operations planning in the unlikely event Goode takes the deal.”
Wearing a big grin, she shook her head exaggeratedly. “What am I going to do with you? You’ve come to your senses and realized that not only am I a fantastic assistant, I have a lot of skills you’re missing out on.”
I shifted her onto my lap. “I want to experience your entire skill set.”
“I’m not sure you’re ready,” she replied.
“Try me.”
Thirty-Four
Andrew
Despite it being April in New York City, the heat from the sun reflected off the buildings and felt like August. My phone buzzed and I answered it. “Andrew Blake.”
“Andrew, you know it’s me calling, just say ‘Hi Sofia.’ Anyway, what the hell happened with Goode and why haven’t you called me already?”
I laughed. “I just stepped out right now.”
“I know,” she said, “I can see you.”
I glanced across at my waiting limo and squinted to see if I could see inside. The window wound down to reveal Sofia. “Get in here,” she said, grinning. “I want to hear everything.”
I’d been completely honest with Goode. Told him everything—even that Sofia was my assistant. He’d sat quietly as I told him I hated him for what he’d done to the magazine and hated him more for not selling to me, even though we both knew it wasn’t turning a profit. His defenses had been up until I talked about co-ownership.
“He wants to do it,” I said as we pulled out into traffic. “He’ll be a minority owner. We’re privately owned, so he can pretend to whoever cares that he still owns it. If it goes well, he can take the credit; if it goes badly, he can blame me. Just like you said.”
Sofia grinned. “Holy shit, it worked.”
“Honesty is the best policy, apparently.”
“Guess that means I’m busy on Monday doing the operations planning. You might have to get a new assistant.”
I groaned, an uncomfortable knot lodging in my throat. “No way. I don’t like new people who get offended because I don’t speak to them.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “New York, you’ve been good to me, as always.” She made the sign of the cross and looked up to the roof of the limo. I was sure she wasn’t going to find whatever she was looking for up there.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“JFK,” she said. “Everything’s in the trunk.”
“Back to London via the mile high club?” I coughed, trying to dislodge the nodule of disquiet I couldn’t quite swallow down.
There was no doubt the last few days in New York had shifted things between Sofia and me, and I wasn’t ready to give her up. I wasn’t sure if I ever would be. I just couldn’t shake the storm clouds gathering in my brain. I’d been here before—sleeping with someone I worked a few paces away from. It hadn’t worked then, and it couldn’t work now. Einstein wasn’t wrong when he said the definition of insanity was repeating history and expecting a different result, but I might already be too far gone to walk away from Sofia.