Romance: The CEO by Emily Cooper Read Free Book Online

declared insane after flighty blonde reporter visits mansion... ha, what a headline that would be!
    “How did you manage to keep it out of the media?” I ask carefully, deciding that the only way I can know for sure which angle to write the story in is to hear the rest of it first.
    “I paid off everyone…the survivors, the employees, and the families of the workers who died.”
    “And the families weren’t angry? They just settled on a figure you gave them?” I add assertively, wishing I had my notepad in front of me.
    Despite my struggling conscience Hank and Sophia were right; I’m literally sitting in the nucleus of a cash cow right now.
    Jackson observes me somewhat peculiarly; the look on his face promoting the notion that I’ve asked a rather ludicrous question.
    “Africa is a very different place to here. Do you have any idea how much even one hundred American dollars would mean for those miners families? Before I bought the mines the workers could barely feed their families. Some months they were on the brink of starvation, malnourished and barely clothed. They were desperate and willing to do anything for some money. That is the real Africa, Claire. The one that we western folk all too easily turn a blind eye too,” he scorns.
    But he’s preaching to the choir.
    I already know all that.
    It’s been a part of my job as a journalist to learn about it.
    It’s obvious from Jackson’s countenance that he is not only ashamed of himself, but also ashamed of all the rich nations in the world who know what goes on and yet do nothing to help.
    “I covered it up,” he continues. “I kept it out of the tabloids and with complete radio silence. I just wanted to forget about it, so I decided to keep to myself and stay away from people. I couldn’t harm anyone then.”
    “But, Jackson, you can’t stay cooped up in this mansion either, no matter how luxurious it is. It’s not healthy. It’ll drive you mad,” I protest, feeling an ache in my heart for how broken this once formidable billionaire now looks.
    “It’s already driven me mad,” he chuckles shrewdly, gesturing to one of his paintings hanging on the wall above us. “I just hide it in my art, that’s all.”
    “You need to come back to society. If the world knows your story, I’m sure they’ll forgive you. You’re not to blame for what happened. You may have owned the mines and employed those dubious engineers and managers, but they deliberately didn’t tell you about the changes. They’re the ones who should be recluses, or better yet be sent to jail for their crimes,” I plead, the journalist in me wilting as I cup his face in my hands. “Come back to New York with me. Get away from here for a while.”
    “I can’t,” he utters softly, pulling away. “I can’t trust people anymore. I’m better off here where I can’t hurt anybody. Alone.”
    Jackson stands and goes to leave, stopping in mid pace to swing his head back to me.
    “You should leave for the airport soon,” he states coldly. “The hurricane has passed. You’re free to go.”
    He leaves me on the verge of tears and still stunned by his revelation about what happened in Zimbabwe.
    But I’d be heartless to leave him like this, anyone would be.
    I can’t believe he’s been living with such an sinister secret, and one that has obviously been eating away at his soul. I must convince him to let it all go, to let the world hear his side of the story and judge him accordingly.
    The truth always has a way of getting out.
    Eventually someone will speak, and when they do Jackson will most likely come off looking like the bad guy. As a serious and passionate journalist I can’t allow that to happen.
    If Jackson isn’t willing to come clean about the mine collapse and the miners who were killed, then he will leave me with no choice but to expose the tragedy for him.
     
     
     
     

10
     

 
     
     
     
    As I watch Jackson’s tall, dark figure walk uneasily along the