SILAS’S POV
It had been two days after I had arrived from Italy, and I was still as tired as hell.
After the phone call with Imogen’s supposed husband--I blocked his contact.
Not out of fear of his threats--hilarious. I may sound like an asshole, but after hearing his voice over the phone, I was pretty sure he was a wimp. I doubted he could take me on--and if he could, there was no doubt I would whoop his ass.
I sat in the boardroom, at the head of a long ass table, surrounded by the members of the media team. One of them stood by a wall, pointing at a projected slide and yammering about choosing a model to help advertise the new hotel that was currently being built. It would be finished soon, and they couldn’t wait to publicize it already.
Well, I could wait.
What was the rush?
The
