Kiss and Tell 2 by Faith Winslow Read Free Book Online Page B

or her seat.
    Anthony led me to his office. Once we were inside of it, he shut the door behind me, and I tried not to be overwhelmed by the space I was in—which was difficult. As far as offices go, it was, by far, the biggest and best I’d ever seen. It was very large and incredibly decorated.
    The chair in front of Anthony’s desk was a lot more like what you’d expect to find in an office of this caliber. It was nothing like the art piece from the reception area, and as soon as I sat down in it, I felt like I was seated in the lap of comfort.
    Anthony walked around to his side of the desk and sat down. He examined me for a moment before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs—and what followed was silence.
    Neither Anthony nor I spoke right off the bat, but instead sat and appraised each other.
    “So, Kirby,” Anthony said, leaning forward and scooting his chair toward his desk. “I’ve thought things over, and I’d like…to offer you a job here at Parker & Swift.”
    “What?” I shouted—and when I say shouted, I mean SHOUTED.
    “I’d like to offer you a job,” Anthony repeated, as if that was the answer to what I’d asked him.
    “I heard you,” I said, “but I don’t understand you.” My heart was beating a mile per minute, and I was totally flabbergasted. I was sure Anthony had called me here to talk about our situation and simply couldn’t believe his offer.
    “That’s the best thing that can come of this,” he said, drumming his fingers on his desk. “It’s the best I can offer you right now. I’m not willing to bring anything else to the table.”
    “What the hell do you mean?” I asked. To the best of my knowledge, there was no one monitoring our conversation, so I couldn’t comprehend why Anthony was being so cryptic. He had no one to hide the truth from—except me and himself.
    “If you want money from me, Kirby, you’re going to have to earn it,” he said. For as coolly as he’d talked days before, he was now talking coldly.
    “I don’t want any money from you,” I spat back at him.
    “Sure you don’t,” Anthony said, placating me.
    “Look,” I demanded, “I came here today because I thought you wanted to talk to me about our situation—about what happened between us last week, and about our conversation at my parents’ party.”
    “That was why I originally wanted to see you,” Anthony replied, “but then I got your little note this morning.”
    “What little note?” I asked.
    Anthony sprung back in his chair a little. He raised his eyebrows at me, then reached down into one of his desk drawers, pulled out a piece of paper, and tossed it toward me.
    “This note,” he said as the paper danced in the air a little. “It arrived by bike messenger this morning.”
    I picked up the sheet of paper and glanced at it briefly. It was a short, typed message, and I had to work hard to focus my eyes enough to read it.
    “Like I said,” Anthony said as I began reading the thing, “if you want money from me, you’re gonna have to earn it. You’re not going to get it out of me that way. If you want a job at Parker & Swift, you can have it, even though you don’t deserve it—and if you don’t want it, well, that’s that. Go ahead, do whatever you will. There’s no proof.”
    Anthony was trying to play hardball, and as the message in the note became clearer, I could see why. What I held in my hands—what I was reading—was a blackmail note.
    Fathers protect your daughters , the first line read. Famous billionaire likes ‘em young, makes move on top exec’s college-aged daughter.
    There was a hard return between this headline-like intro and the next paragraph: Your selfish, perverse indiscretions have finally caught up with you and are going to cost you. $250,000 cash in unmarked bills, to be exact. Pay me or pay the piper.
    Another hard return, then this closing statement: Tell no one. Just get the money and await further instruction.
    I read over the