Chapter 87
Chapter eighty-seven
Remy
“This is bullshit. We need to fix this,” I snap at my publicist.
He starts in on distancing us from Christianna. Protecting the opera house. Protecting the key players. Damage control.
What he’s really saying is that Christianna is expendable.
That is fucking unacceptable.
Erik wanders in, Meg right behind him.
“No. Dammit. I pay you to solve problems, not create them,” I say. “Leaving our violinist tarred as a whore while you protect everyone else is not an option.”
Erik’s eyes narrow. Meg’s go wide.
She moves to my desk and drops a black envelope onto the surface. Silver script. My stomach drops.
I drag a hand through my hair.
Erik reaches for it before I can stop him and opens it. He scans it and then turns it so I can read it.
I have trusted you with much.
You are not living up to it.
You have twenty-four hours to fix this.
—Dark Angel
I close my eyes as my publicist yaps on.
“I need three options based on the information I have given you within an hour or you’re fired.” I say, my voice tight, and disconnect, thumb mashing against the button. Not nearly as satisfying as slamming a receiver down.