maybe thirty percent. The dates and places and events are all accurate. But I sure don’t talk like an eighteenth-century poet in bed.”
Justin’s face broke into a grin.
“Shut up,” Shane ordered.
“I never said a word.”
Shane pushed back his leather desk chair and stood, his anger level rising instead of falling. “I didn’t flirt with other women when she was in the room. And cheap? Cheap? I don’t think the woman glanced at a price tag the entire time we were dating. Limos, restaurants, clothes, parties. I bought her a blue-diamond bracelet for her birthday last March.”
It was a purchase he now regretted. He didn’t mind the cost, but there was something intimate about diamonds, particularly those in a custom setting. But Bianca had pouted and whined prettily until he’d given in. He had to admit, no matter how ugly this breakup became, he was relieved to be out from under her complaining.
“I’m most worried about chapter six,” said Justin.
“Where she accuses me of collusion and corporate espionage?”
“Clients really don’t care what you’re like in bed. But they do care if you’re price-fixing or stealing their intellectual property.”
“I’m not.”
“I know you’re not.”
It was reassuring for Shane to hear that his lawyer trusted him. “It sounded like you wanted me to answer that.”
“I’m not the one you have to convince.”
Shane nodded at the book with the crass cover. “Is there a way for me to rebut?”
“Not unless you want a he-said-she-said battle in the media. You know Bianca will do all the local talk shows. Any move you make prolongs the story.”
“So I stay silent.”
“Yes.”
“And let them think I’m a pansy in the sack?”
“I’ll be advising our clients that the espionage and collusion accusations are ridiculous. I could mention your sex life, if you’d like.”
“You’re a real comedian.”
“I try. Have you heard anything from Gobrecht this week?”
Shane shook his head.
Gobrecht Airlines was headquartered in Berlin, and they were in the final stages of awarding a contract for twenty new commuter jets. The Colborn Aware 200 was the front runner. If Gobrecht made a commitment to buy, Beaumont Air in Paris was likely to follow suit with an even larger contract.
Justin backed toward the office door. “I know your public profile has always been good for business. But can you please try to stay out of the headlines for a while?”
“I’ve never tried to get into them. I thought Bianca knew the score.”
Bianca had been introduced to Shane by the Millers. She was the daughter of their good friend, so Shane had assumed she’d grown up around wealthy, high-profile people. It never occurred to him that she’d gossip in public. And it sure never occurred to him that she’d write a supposed tell-all book for money.
“It’s impossible to know who to trust,” said Justin.
“I trust you.”
“I’m contractually obligated to be trustworthy.”
“Maybe that’s what I should do next time.” Shane was only half joking. “Have my dates sign a nondisclosure agreement before the appetizers.”
“It might be better if you don’t date for a while.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Read a book. Take up a hobby.”
“Like golf or fishing?”
“Not a lot of fishing in the greater Chicago area. But you could golf.”
“Tried it once. I’d have to hang myself.” Shane shuddered at the memory.
“You do know it’s not about the ball. It’s about the conversation.”
“Boring people play golf.”
Justin paused beside the closed door. “Powerful people play golf.”
“I’d rather scuba dive or target shoot.”
“Go for it.”
Shane had considered both of those things, dreaming of a long weekend in the Keys or a rustic lodge in Montana. “It’s a little hard to find the time.”
“Now that you’ve given up dating, you’ll have nothing but time on your hands.”
“There’s a board meeting on Friday. We break ground on the new wing of the R & D facility Wednesday morning. Then I’m hosting the search-and-rescue fundraiser at the mansion next Saturday night.” Shane paused. “And I’m not going stag to that.”
“Sure you are.”
“Uh, no, I’m not.”
“Then find a nice, safe date,” said Justin. “Take your cousin.”
“Madeline is not going to be my date to the fundraiser.”
“Why not? She could be your hostess. It’s not the same as a date.”
“That’s pathetic. I’m not going to look pathetic at my own party.”
“You won’t look pathetic. You’ll look shrewd. The trick here is to give the media absolutely nothing to report.”
“You don’t think they’ll report that I’m dating my cousin?”
“They’ll report that you and Madeline were impeccable hosts and that Colborn raised hundreds of thousands for the search-and-rescue service.”
Shane’s instinct was to argue. But he forced himself to think it through. Was cohosting with Madeline really the safe route?
He knew she’d do it for him. She was a sweetheart. Would it deflect public criticism? More importantly, would it protect his privacy?
Justin spoke up again. “There’s a fine line between keeping your company in the public eye and becoming a social-media spectacle.”
“I’ve crossed it, haven’t I?”
“Bianca crossed it for you.”
Shane capitulated. “Fine. I’ll call Maddie.”
“Good decision.”
“You do know I have a 100 percent success rate, getting lucky after that particular party.”
“You do know those women are sleeping with the billionaire persona and not the man, right?”
“The family mansion has to be good for something.”
The Barrington Hills house had been in his family for decades. But it was an hour commute to downtown. And what single man needed fourteen acres and seven bedrooms?
Shane mostly lived at his Lake Shore Drive penthouse—three bedrooms, a fantastic view and close to any number of fine restaurants.
“I’m sure your father would be proud of how you’re using the family assets,” Justin drawled.
Shane couldn’t help but smile at the memory. His dad had been gone for six years now, tragically killed along with Shane’s mother in a boating accident when Shane was twenty-four. He missed them both. And although Justin was being sarcastic, Dalton wouldn’t have had the slightest problem with Shane’s love life.
Shane heard his assistant, Ginger, over the intercom. “Mr. Colburn? A Hans Strutz is