“Mom, I can’t just jump on a plane and take over what she’s fucking up. If you’re so adamant on fixing her shit, why don’t you go?”

Bravo, Jonathan, for standing up to your mother.

“Nothing is broken,” I interrupt their spat. “What do you think you’ll achieve by coming over, Shelby?”

“Well, it appears as if this arrangement isn’t working as we expected, Shelby,” Edith finally speaks. “I suggest we move forward with Plan B.”

Plan B, what is she talking about?

“What the fuck, Clarice?” Miller storms into my office.

“I’m in the middle of a meeting,” I say, grinding my teeth and muting my phone. “What is your problem?”

Before I close the door to my office, I look around. Where the hell is Danielle? She’s jogging toward me.

“Danielle, I swear I’m going to fire you,” I say when she reaches me.

“Sorry, I had no idea he was going to come to see you when I delivered that,” she says while trying to catch her breath.

I look up at the ceiling and pray for a little patience.

“What’s wrong with the contract, Miller?” I set my hands on my hips and frown.

“You want to hire me as a consultant?” He drops the folder on top of my desk. “This is our project. You’re not hiring me to be your bitch for a week.”

If this wasn’t such a clusterfuck, I’d answer with something like, “That’s not what you said last night.”

I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, taking a few cleansing breaths.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, taking the folder and reading through the contract.

It’s supposed to be a pretty straightforward document, where Blend is hiring him as my consultant for the remainder of the project, and he promises not to steal my ideas while I promise just the same.

“The winery will only hire us under the condition that we will use 23 Media Inc. as our partners—or consultants,” I say.

“So what, you’ll pay me by the hour? Because I’m expensive and I like to take my time, baby,” he says the tone between raging and teasing.

“Look, if you have a problem because I’m on top—”

“Princess, I like you on top, but not like this,” he says. “This tells me you’re taking over the project and just giving me a few hours to keep the client happy.”

“Danielle, can you give us a minute, please?”

She smirks and says, “Just keep it low.”

“Danielle,” I warn her.

I massage my throbbing temples and speak. “Look, I’m already having a shitty day.”

He frowns, looks at the phone and asks, “What’s going on?”

“They’re not happy about the arrangement.”

“They?”