Good customers? Had Max had surgery? No. Way.

“Oh. Is that your work?” I said, taking a stab in the dark. “Max’s nose is perfect.”

Dr. Bloomfield smiled proudly. “Yes, he and his sister were two of my first rhinoplasties.”

Uh. But…Dr. Bloomfield had been a plastic surgeon for over twenty years. Maybe he only started doing nose jobs a few years ago?

“Well, it’s gorgeous,” I said, shocked that I’d gotten that out of him.

He gave me a pat on the back. “And you will be, too, after I’m done.”

I stood and stuck out my hand but really wanted to hug him. “I’m looking forward to it. Really, really looking forward to it.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you back here in a few months.” He reached for my hand and when he took it, he stopped smiling. “Lily, I just want to caution you, though—as I do with all my patients—this isn’t minor surgery. There are risks.”

“I know,” I said, wondering if Max had told him to hammer the message home. “Infections, scarring, and—”

“And people do die,” he added, dropping his hand away.

“Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me to do this?” I asked.

“It’s a normal part of the screening process. I need to make sure my patients are fully informed and are here for the right reasons. I take this seriously, and they should, too.”

“Okay.” I understood that I wasn’t getting my hair colored. “How many people die?”

“Approximately one out of every two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Oh.” I smiled. “Those odds are good.”

“I lost a patient last week, Lily. She was forty-five. Cardiac arrest during lipo. It’s nothing to smile about.”

Okay, I got the point. And I had to admit his little dose of reality was effective. I had to be sure I really wanted to do this. “I’ll give it some thought.” And this time I really meant it. Was this worth dying for, even if the risks were low?

“Now that is the answer I wanted to hear,” he said.

Why? Because of Max? Or because he really wanted to shoo people away who thought this was like getting their nails done?

He continued, “We’ll start the ball rolling while you think it over.” He shook my hand again and instructed me to the nurse, who took blood samples for the lab work and made me sign a bunch of release forms. Now I felt unsure again. Part of me really wanted to do this, and it felt exciting, but the other kept telling me this wasn’t necessary.

I laughed at myself, walking to my car.

At first I didn’t want to have surgery, because I was too proud to admit that maybe I wasn’t comfortable with my looks. Then I wanted to have it because I realized I wasn’t. And now, I wasn’t sure. Things in my life felt like they were in a good place—scary, but good. Maybe I would wait.

And wow. Max had his nose done, I thought, getting into my car to head to the office. I’d have to ask him about that later. Not that it was a big deal, but it just struck me as odd he hadn’t said anything.

~~~

The rest of Friday was a rush of emergency meetings and calls with customers who were upset that their orders hadn’t shipped. Someone had leaked the alleged takeover to the press, driving up B&H’s stock and turning the rumor mill into a full-blown media frenzy.

Add to that, Max had not answered anyone’s calls, including mine, and I felt like the world was about to collapse. Something was definitely going down.

And we have no captain.

I spent two hours in a supply-chain triage meeting, arguing with Production and the other sales managers about allocation to customers with the sudden influx of orders. Not one person said a word about the elephant in the room: customers were stocking up, getting ready for something major.

Around three p.m. my desk phone rang, and I braced for yet another irate customer demanding more product, but it was not a customer.

“Miss Snow, it’s Nancy Little.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and then decided to hang up. I had nothing to say to her.

She spoke before I had the chance. “Miss Snow, I’m calling to give you one last opportunity to come out publically and tell your story after the book releases.”

“And I’d like to give you one last chance to do the right thing. You’re going to hurt a lot of people. Good people.”

“You’re fooling yourself,” she said bitterly, “if you think for one minute that Mr. Cole is a good person. He’s a selfish, sadistic bastard. All he cares about is his money.”

I could see how she might think that. Once upon a time, so did I. “You’ve misjudged him. But I’m talking about the people who work at C.C. and will lose their jobs. I’m talking about myself and the humiliation you’ll put me and my family through. I don’t deserve to have my life ruined for your vindictive bullcrap.”

“Mr. Cole is responsible for this. Not me. So I suggest you talk to him.”

I shook my head. There was no getting through to this crazy woman. “He’s not a bad man, Nancy. And as much as I feel for you and the loss you’ve been through, I can’t believe for one moment that this will make you feel any better.” This book, hurting me, none of it would bring her sister back. “Why can’t you just let it go and move on?”

“You lose your sister like I did, then tell me all about moving on.”

I sighed. What she really wanted was the rest of the world to suffer with her. That’s what she wanted. “Then good luck to you, Nancy. I hope the damage you’ll do to thousands of people is worth it.”

“Fifty thousand dollars, Lily. That’s what it’s worth to you.”

“You’re trying to bribe me?” I seriously couldn’t believe it. And I had to wonder if she’d made the same offer to those other women. After all, Max had said he couldn’t understand why those women had turned on him.

“I’m giving you a chance to do what’s right and some money to start over,” she said. “Because he’s using you, Lily. He’s going to toss you aside when he’s done. That man is sick. A fucking evil bastard.”

Whatever. “Goodbye, Nancy.” I hung up the phone and dialed Max again. I couldn’t lie; my conversation with this woman had shaken me hard, and I needed to hear his reassuring voice.

My call went into voice mail again for the fifth or sixth time, which only deepened my worry. Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering my calls?

Regardless, I had a phone call of my own to return from my brother, John, who I’d now seen had left two messages on my phone and a text. I scrubbed my hands over my face, probably smearing my mascara all to hell.

“Okay,” I picked up my phone, “let’s do this.”

I dialed and John answered right away. “What the hell is going on over at C.C.?”

He’d probably seen the news. “I honestly don’t know, but I need you to help me tell Mom and Dad about the book.” It was coming out soon and they needed to be prepared. “You have to keep them out of my hair, John. I can’t deal with everything else and them.”

“Fuck. You’re not coming out against him, are you?”

“No.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Lily. The guy is using you.”

Why is everyone saying that? “You don’t know him like I do.”

“You’re right. I don’t know him at all. But what sort of fucked-up asshole would ask my sister to hang out with him when he finds her—and excuse me for saying this—but revolting? Does this make any sense to you?”

No, it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense that Max wanted to be with me. But he did.

“He’s your boss, Lily. He has no business fucking around with you in the first place.”

Oh, my God. “I know. I know it looks bad. I know you think he’s a monster, but you’ll just have to trust me. He’s not. And I know what I’m doing.” Didn’t I? “And right now, I’ve got to go and deal with hordes of angry customers. So will you help me or not?”

“Fine. I’ll talk to them, but don’t blame me when your life falls to shit.”