“Promise me you won’t curse,” Mac Buffer said.
Gerald, who sat at his desk, already tapping the desk with a pen, had a frown fixed on his face. He was ready to spit out most of the foul words he knew if Mac Buffer failed him and it seemed like he already had.
“Just spill, Mac. I don’t make promises.”
“Hmm, I’m pretty sure you made some to Genevieve at some point in that forbidden relationship of yours,” he remarked, knowing that would annoy Gerald the more but that was pretty much the essence of this call; to trigger the latter, “I know you probably want to rip my head off my neck right now, but hear me out first.”
“Then I rip off your head right after?”
Mac hesitated, “I think I’m in a position to negotiate that, Gerald. But f**k all that. Yesterday, I found the time to follow this w
