Thank God for small miracles.
“You have any problems with anyone lately?”
“No.” Ro shook her head with confidence. “But seriously, Brody. You don’t need to—”
“Uh…that’s not entirely true.”
Both she and Brody turned to look at Megan.
“What’s not true?” Ro frowned.
“That you haven’t had a problem with anyone lately.” Her friend slid her focus to Brody. “What about Clayton Yorke?”
Unable to keep from it, Ro rolled her eyes and groaned. “Clayton’s not a problem.”
“He was last night,” Brody argued. “A big one.”
That jerk, Yorke, grabbed you like some sort of possessive Neanderthal.
She’d been stewing about that all day. The entire time she’d been dress shopping for the entitled ass’s big re-branding party, she’d mentally chewed his butt a dozen different ways for thinking he could treat her—or any woman—that way.
Ro had also silently rehearsed what she would say if she ever got up the nerve to fire his entitled ass as a client. Something she was pretty sure she was going to do…after the party.
It was shallow and selfish, and yes…it probably made her a sell-out. But damn it, she’d worked her ass off to make his relaunching campaign a success, and Ro felt she deserved the public recognition his invite brought with it.
So yeah. She’d buy a pretty dress and put on a smile, but after that…
After that, her professional relationship with Clayton Yorke was done.
“Megan told me what happened.” Ro maintained eye contact. “I appreciate you stepping in to help. But…” When Brody arched a dark brow, she made sure he knew, “Clayton would never hurt me.”
“Asshole sure had a tight grip on you last night.”
“Which is something I intend to address first thing when I see him at our meeting first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Cancel it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to cancel your meeting with Yorke.”
The man said this as if his word was law.
“He didn’t do this.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” She felt it to her bones.
“How?”
“I don’t know, I just…” Ro growled in frustration as she broke away from the crowded triangle of friends to pace across her living room floor. “Okay, look. I’m the first to admit Clayton’s a narcissistic, arrogant ass. But you seem to forget he’s also a very,veryrecognizable heir to a billion-dollar hotel empire and the city’s most eligible bachelor.”
“And?” That damn brow of Brody’s arched high once more.
“Andguys like that don’t risk embarrassing themselves or their families by getting arrested for breaking into some random woman’s place and stealing her hot pink panties!”
The room grew so silent she could’ve heard a feather drop. Ro’s pulse spiked, and she wanted to shove the words back inside her big, fat mouth. But it was too late.