Free Venture Forward by Kristen Luciani Page B

off?”
    “It’s a big fucking deal.”
    “ Venture Scope is like the Us Weekly of the venture capital world. Nobody takes that rag seriously. It’ll blow over in no time. Just ignore it.”
    “Easy for you to say. It’s not your picture next to the headline.”
    “It may not be my picture, but don’t fool yourself. I already got the call.”
    “The governor must be thrilled about your affiliation with a ruthless and shady venture capitalist, the likes of which inspired a fucking novel. Good thing he’s not campaigning right now, or he’d be all over my ass, too.”
    “I can handle my father. And, for the record, I don’t give a shit what he says or thinks about this. You shouldn’t either. It’s a bullshit article, and you’re an easy target.”
    Whatever happened to responsible journalism? Who was their fucking source? The conjecture would crush his business, but did they give a shit about that when they ran the story? No! “Can I take legal action against those Venture Scope assholes?”
    “You can, but it’ll only look worse for you. Don’t pull a Tom Cruise. Guy sues for every little dipshit thing, and it only makes him look like more of a tool.”
    Mitch stumbled over with a pretty young brunette on his arm. “Hey!” He squeezed the girl’s arm affectionately. “These are my buddies. They wanted to show me a good time. I think I’m finally back to normal, guys.”
    Could this night get any better?
    Mitch put a hand on Paul’s shoulder, clearly struggling to focus. “What the fuck is up with that Venture Scope article? Everybody’s talking about it. Who the hell wrote that book? Some chick you banged and then kicked to the curb?” He snorted with laughter. “Sure seems like someone’s got some unresolved issues with you.”
    “Change the subject, Mitch. I’m done talking about it.”
    A.J. nudged him with another glass. “Drink this. It’ll be forgotten by tomorrow. Mitch, be a gentleman and ask your new friend if she’d like a drink.”
    Paul downed the scotch in an attempt to blunt the raucous laughter of the crowd surrounding them, but it did little to calm the rage simmering in his veins. When he found the jackass who’d written that goddamned book, he’d sue for libel. Fuck looking like Tom Cruise.
     

     
    AVERY LET OUT A breathless giggle. “I really need to take a break. My feet are killing me. I’ll be back in a few, okay?”
    Mia held up her glass. “You better leave some of that vodka for me!”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll stick with the Jack.” Thank God for the VIP elevator. A few more wobbly steps to the table, and she promptly collapsed onto the luxurious couch. She’d never in a million years sport a pair of flats, but Lord, it was tempting to kick off her shoes. Maybe after another drink. The pain might miraculously morph into numbness.
    The cocktail waitress handed her another Jack and Diet Coke, and she let out a deep sigh, body vibrating in time to the music. Mmm, there were so many things she’d love to do with a certain someone on that buttery soft leather. And what exactly did that brilliant plan entail? Maybe she could wander into his building unannounced with the hope of running into him, or arrange for some bullshit meeting with Mia. Ugh, but what about the book? Just another teeny-tiny dirty little detail to consider. What was she thinking? Swooning over Paul Emerson was ridiculous. It simply wasn’t happening, no matter how badly she wanted him. Taking a long pull on the cocktail, she squinted into the darkness. What the hell—
    Her heart thundered against her ribcage at the sight. Kevin Albright and his buddies gathered at a nearby table, laughing loudly with a group of admiring young girls, each more stunning than the last.
    Shit, they were too close, and she had no desire to be spotted alone. Heart pounding, her eyes darted around the darkened lounge, desperately targeting the nearest exit. One of Kevin’s fan girls squealed and pressed her body