“I have a lot of words rolling around in my head right now and they’re all filthy,” she said, standing up and pacing up and down in front of her office window. “What are we going to do? It’s everywhere. It’s trending on Twitter. There’s a Facebook page, Calvaresi, a freaking Facebook page devoted to…what are they calling us?” She leaned in and skimmed the article again. “JulErro. For the love of Darth.”
“And for everyone rooting for this little enemies-to-lovers tale…”
“There are just as many rooting for us to go down in flames. This…this is a lot bigger than we anticipated, isn’t it?”
Ferro wished he could say he’d anticipated just this, but the simple fact was, social media was hard to anticipate. The press was one thing, the civilian-run news machine? Something else entirely. And the simple truth was, this had gone way outside the tech world, thanks to the internet, which was run by the masses. Who were entirely unpredictable.
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
The feeling of claustrophobia he felt now, the feeling of being trapped, he didn’t like it. A trap of his own making. And it wasn’t the first one he’d ever been in. He knew all about this. About going so far down a road there was no way to turn back. That you just had to push through, keep going, because you’d gone too damn far.
“Fine,” she said, continuing to pace. “We continue on, and we make it the biggest spectacle ever. And when we blow it up, we make it huge. The biggest media explosion ever. And we’ll always be more interesting after this. Think about it, when you hijack another one of my presentations, just think how newsworthy it will be when we’re exes? Hypothetically. Don’t hijack one of my presentations again.”
Julia might be wearing armor, but she was a tough woman. Smart. Brilliant even. “Of course,” he said, “we’ll be expected to spend a lot of time together. A lot. The visibility is too high. We’re going to have to give them something to talk about, because if we don’t…if we get caught in this…”
“We’re in trouble.”
“Putting it mildly.”
“Okay…okay…what’s the plan then?”
“There’s a charity event tonight. I was planning on skipping it and writing a check, but I think we should make an appearance, don’t you? As a couple.”
Julia looked like she was going to say something, but she hesitated.
“Come on, Julia,” he said. “Don’t wimp out now.”
“I’m not wimping out!”
“Then why do you look like a deer caught in the headlights?”
“Because the other day we were sworn enemies and if I never had to see you in person it suited me just fine. Now…two outings with you in a row? I could live without that.”
“Maybe this is why tech, and business in general, is traditionally a man’s game,” he said, not meaning a word he was saying but knowing it would give Julia the kick she needed. “Maybe it’s because women are too ruled by emotion.”
He knew it wasn’t true. Because he’d been…he didn’t even know what to call it. Shaped, molded, by women who hadn’t cared what their actions meant to the emotions of a teenage boy. He’d spent years surrounded by women who saw people only as pawns. People of both genders were more than capable of acting based on selfish desire. Of using people to meet their ends.
But his words would push Julia. He knew it. Knew it was a hot button for her.
“Are you saying I can’t do this?” she asked.
“You’re the one who looks like she has a problem. I’m willing to make this work. Are you? Or are you just giving me lip service here?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to ignore the potential double entendre there.”
“If it suits you.”
“Fine. You have yourself a date for tonight. Ferro?”
“Yes?”
“Uh…what’s the charity?” He had a feeling that wasn’t the question she’d intended to ask.
“For homeless youths.”
“Great. I’ll bring my checkbook.”
CHAPTER FOUR
CHARITY EVENTS WERE the scourge of Ferro’s existence. A shiny, gorgeous hotel ballroom, filled with internally ugly people who possessed an unnatural amount of self-importance. People who manipulated and used the less fortunate for their own pleasure during the day, but showed up to things like this to show their altruism to the press.
He could well remember the first time he’d been in a room like this. Hating who he was with. Hating that he had to smile and fawn and do whatever it was he’d been paid to do. No matter whether he wanted it. No. The tabloids, the author of his bio, they really had no idea of the depths he’d been to.
He looked at Julia, who was holding on to his arm like it was a live eel, the smile on her face anything but easy, and he wondered if he had become no better.
No. This benefitted Julia, too. It was an exchange.
Like sex for money? Hell, no. This wasn’t the same.
Why was he even thinking about it? He rarely did. But it happened more since Julia and he had struck their unholy alliance. No one knew the truth. They believed, of course, that he’d slept his way to the top. He’d been spotted with some very wealthy older women in his younger years. But they didn’t know the truth.
The rumors clung to him, disgusted him. Because of the ring of truth to them. But he would walk the same path a thousand times to end up where he was today. He just went on, proving his right to be in his position with his continued success.
Regret was for the weak. And he wasn’t wasting any time on it tonight. Or ever. He was shutting it off. The way he’d shut off the feelings of bone deep hunger and cold he’d experienced as a child on the street. The way he’d shut down the shame and pain when he’d been lifted up from that gutter where he’d been and brought into a glittering, hideous world that had asked for his soul in exchange for food and a warm bed. In exchange for eventual success.
The way he shut desire down now, to avoid ever thinking about that time in his life.
Tonight, for this, he would shut off what little conscience he had left, and go forward. Because it was the best thing to do. Because the end always justified the means. Always. And because he was no longer the boy he’d once been. He was the man with the power. And that meant he would win in the end.
As they moved through the room, a wave of whispers followed. Everyone was watching them. Everyone was interested.
“Try to relax,” he said to Julia.
“I am relaxed.”
“Which leads me to the conclusion that you genuinely don’t know how to relax. You’re tense. You’re practically shivering.”
She looked down at her hands. “I have a lot of energy.”
“Is that so? Then perhaps we should put it to good use.” He shifted his hold on her and laced their fingers together, drawing her out toward the high gloss dance floor.
“Why?” she asked, her tone petulant.
“Why what?”
“Why the dancing?” She looked genuinely worried now, all that tough-chick bravado gone.
“Because the headline will be sensational.” He drew her up against his body and felt her frame tremble beneath his touch. It wasn’t attraction. He was well familiar with women being attracted to him. She