My Dark Romeo: The Unputdownable Billionaire Romance

If only I could see Madison’s face as I delivered this speech, I’d frame it in Zach’s gallery.

As it was, I did, in fact, hire Alan to capture it, which was why I’d tacked on an extra hour before this press conference. The man needed time to find the perfect angle.

I settled behind the Costa Industries podium in our headquarters press room.

I’d practiced this face in the mirror a few minutes ago, since it wasn’t one I had experience in using. Remorseful, dedicated, and somber.

No hard feat, seeing as I’d spent the majority of the afternoon pep-talking myself into not murdering my father.

A bevy of reporters, journalists, and photographers from national and international media outlets sat before me.

I deliberately took my time, careful not to unleash my satisfaction on my face. Well, the little gratification I possessed.

Shortbread had ensured the thorough ruin of my day.

And life.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Today, at approximately 10:30 a.m. Eastern Time, news broke that Licht Holdings Corporation, whom we considered colleagues, peers, and co-pilots in the effort to strengthen the U.S. Army, disposed of dozens of toxic PFAS chemicals in the water stream in Newsham, Georgia, a small blue-collar town in which Licht Holdings manufactures weapons.”

I paused, frowned, pretended to give half a damn. Enough to convince people I genuinely cared—and so they wouldn’t suspect me of tipping off reporters about the story.

“Upon a detailed investigation, we’ve confirmed this has caused high rates of cancer, depression, suicide, learning disabilities, and asthma within this already struggling community.”

Another pause.

“We are still in the process of discovering all the suffering and pain this thoughtless, reckless move by Licht Holdings has inflicted. However, I would like to assure you, right here and now, that Costa Industries condemns these actions. We are, and always will be, committed to serving the communities we are part of and not vice versa.”

A few journalists raised their hands. Photographers snapped pictures, buzzing with energy.

You couldn’t tell a story like this without pictures, so I’d paid a hefty sum to the families affected by the toxic chemicals to share photos of their dying relatives, ruined lungs, infested limbs, and chemotherapy journeys.

I didn’t feel half guilty about it.

Not the part where I paid distressed people to share their tragic stories. And not about bringing this to light, preventing other companies from exhibiting this behavior in the future.

“While I share little about my personal life in public, I’d be remiss not to mention my wife is Georgian, born and bred. Thus, I am especially fond of the state.”

A ripple of giggles rolled through the crowd. At least complete strangers considered me a heartthrob.

Too bad Shortbread’s parting words were a promise to bite off my cock if I got close to her again.

“I’ve met Madison Licht, the son of Licht Holdings CEO Theodore Licht, many times and considered him a peer in the industry. The Lichts both share deep ties to Georgia, so I am staggered, if not completely floored, to discover they would do this to their own people, their own state, their own beloved natural resources.”

I laid it on so thick, I was surprised my own eyes didn’t roll out of their sockets.

Time to wrap it up before I sailed into overkill territory.

“As we face this new era of uncertainty, trauma, and dramatic loss of precious lives in this great nation, I would like to make a vow, on behalf of Costa Industries, to never fail the people of this country. Of the states that host us as manufacturers.”

More hands shot up, waving now.

Journalists. So impatient.

“Furthermore, I would like to announce that, in light of the recent findings regarding the PFAS damage, Costa Industries has donated fifty-five million dollars to workers and residents of Newsham, who are currently suffering the consequences of catastrophic policy, irresponsible management, and a poor example of a defense company.”

Claps erupted across the room. Some people stood, particularly the ones I’d planted in the crowd to egg on support.

“Thank you for trusting Costa Industries. We promise not to betray your faith.”

I soaked in the applause, allowing photographers to capture every angle before I strode offstage.

Our public relations officer sauntered onstage, smiling big in her crisp dress suit. “Mr. Costa will not be taking questions. Understandably, he’d like to be with his loved ones today and make sure he shows support to his wife’s family.”

The Townsends lived nowhere near Newsham. And Shep Townsend was about as blue-collar as I was a Hooters waitress, but calling on my bluff didn’t fit the media’s narrative.

As I marched backstage, Cara and Dylan, my financial analyst, followed, jogging to match my long steps.

“Give me good news.” I jerked my tie loose, strolling to the elevator.

I’d done a lot of legwork to ensure this story found itself in the hands of every major media outlet in the United States.

“Their stock is tanking.” Dylan’s eyes remained glued to his iPad. He pushed his glasses up his bridge. “This is catastrophic for them. We’re talking a fifty-percent slash in value. At least. Honestly, unheard of. Not even after Parkersburg. And Licht’s stock was rocky in the first place, since it just went public.”

He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know.

This should’ve been my moment to relish in the damage and misery I’d leveled at the Lichts, yet all I could feel was the nagging, persistent stab of guilt that poked at me like a hummingbird.

Dallas.

She always wormed her way into my psyche.

“Sir? Did you hear what I said?” Dylan waved his iPad. “Their stock is crashing. Why aren’t you happy?”

An excellent question.

I wanted the answer just as much as he did.

Cara answered her phone. “Yes. I’ll tell him. Thank you.” She didn’t have to tell me who it was nor what he wanted, but she did. “Your father requests your presence in his office. He sounds very pleased.”

Almost pleased enough to give me the CEO position. I could feel it. I’d won him over. He’d made me jump through fire hoops—and so far, the flames hadn’t licked me.

“I’ll see him right away.”

Victory was within reach, so potent and sweet, I could almost taste it.