SILAS’S POV

 

It had been two days after I had arrived from Italy, and I was still as tired as hell.

 

After the phone call with Imogen’s supposed husband--I blocked his contact.

 

Not out of fear of his threats--hilarious. I may sound like an asshole, but after hearing his voice over the phone, I was pretty sure he was a wimp. I doubted he could take me on--and if he could, there was no doubt I would whoop his ass.

 

I sat in the boardroom, at the head of a long ass table, surrounded by the members of the media team. One of them stood by a wall, pointing at...