Conor Dunne stared at his screen as his phone buzzed.

“Yes, Crystal.”

“Conor, your mother is on line one. Again.”

“Crystal, tell her I am away on business.” Conor rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles feeling tighter by the minute.

‘That won’t work. She saw you come into the office a few minutes ago. She is waiting for you at the coffee shop across the road.”

Darn it. Why couldn’t his mother take no for an answer? He didn’t want her in his life. She had made her choice years ago when she chose the bottle over her child. So what if she claimed to be sober now? He’d lost count of the chances he’d given her. All those times he thought he would have a real mother figure as opposed to a picture. His eyes fell on the picture on his desk. A boy with his parents, everyone smiling. It had been taken a week before his dad died. As far as he was concerned, his mam had died then, too. He tapped his fingers on his desk.

“Conor? What will I say? Can’t you spare five minutes?”

“Crystal, you know what will happen. She will plead her case, I will give in and then in a few months’ time, she will mess everything up again. No. This time I am not going to let her do that. Tell her I’m in meetings all day. All week. All year.”

“Yes, boss.”

Sighing, he put down the phone. Crystal was mad. She only called him boss when she was annoyed with him. But she knew more than most the effect seeing his mam had on him. He was right to ignore her.

He forced his attention back to work. He was addicted to reading the Ugly Truth blog. He wished he knew the woman behind the screen. Emily Williams. He had called her a number of times but never got through to her. Her secretary swore she had passed on his messages, but obviously Ms. Williams had already judged him guilty of horrendous crimes against humanity and refused to return his calls. Pity, as he admired what the D C Williams Foundation was striving to achieve. He’d read the news coverage. The foundation aimed to empower young girls and teenagers to strive for the best they could be. They also wanted to reduce the sexualization of the gaming world, the area in which Ms. Williams held the most expertise.

He’d only started digging into what Sunny Studio was about. His other business interests combined with a recent IRS audit had taken his attention.

He’d bought the gaming company at a rock-bottom price. It was part of Jude Ryan’s recommendation to extend his portfolio outside of movie production. Jude had been his business adviser for years and rarely, if ever, got anything wrong. The man was the best in his field. He’d graduated top of his class at Harvard Law and could name his salary. Conor was lucky Jude was his friend as the man got daily offers from other wealthy businessmen to come work for them. Jude joked that these would-be employers were hoping some of the Midas touch Conor Dunne seemed to have would rub off on them if they were to have his adviser in their employ.

Conor pushed his chair back and went to stand at the window. His penthouse office offered amazing views of the city. He stood staring at the world going on below him, wondering why he was letting Emily Williams under his skin. Was it because she was right? He had never been much of a gamer, so he didn’t pay attention to the products Sunny Studios produced. They were just units to push and make a profit from. But after reading her blog, he wondered if he’d made the right investment. When he’d mentioned his concerns to Jude, his friend had laughed them off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that woman. She hasn’t a clue what she’s talking about. Sex sells, Conor. You know that, I know that. Everyone knows that.” Jude’s nostrils twitched as he leaned back in his chair.

“She’s complaining about the portrayal of women.”

“Yeah, I saw she wants us to reproduce Casablanca. I mean, who’s even watched that movie, besides my nana?” Jude rubbed his hands together. “Come on. All you need to care about is the bottom line. Sunny Watson didn’t know his numbers. Talk about walking away at the wrong time. This little beauty is going to explode in value. You’ll gain millions.”

“I don’t think getting cancer and not being able to run your business anymore is the same as walking away, Jude.” But he saw his lawyer wasn’t listening. He was chatting about some new deal he thought Conor would be interested in. Then his phone buzzed, interrupting them both.

“Sorry, Conor, but you said to remind you. Dave will pick you up in an hour.”

“Thanks, Crystal. Are you coming with me?” He listened to her laugh at the other end of the phone.

“I’m going home to hot cocoa and my cat. Is there anything else I can do for you, Conor?”

“No, thank you, Crystal. Have a good weekend.”

Conor hung up smiling.

“What are you grinning about?”

“I just got dumped in favor of a cat.”

Jude looked at him uncertainly. “Why would you ask an old woman to be your date?”

“Crystal’s not old. She’s only in her fifties. Besides, I like her. She makes me laugh. All the women you line me up with are only interested in the size of my wallet and what the latest fashion is.”

Jude threw his eyes up to heaven. “No wonder you’re still single. I keep telling you. You need a pretty piece on your arm. That’s expected. You’re never going to find a good-looking girl with brains. It just doesn’t happen. Face facts, Conor.”

Conor didn’t reply. Jude was on his second wife, who was more plastic than Barbie. Sandra, an actress by trade although nobody admitted to seeing any of her movies, was a true empty-headed socialite who thought New York was the capital of the US. She wasn’t in love with Jude, everyone knew that—including Jude. But she was in love with the lifestyle he provided and would do just about anything to keep that secure. Conor shuddered. He’d rather be single than have a Sandra in his life.

“Jude, you need to go. I have to get ready. I’ll talk to you Monday.’

“I thought I was going to this fundraiser with you.”

Conor raised his eyebrows. Jude had to be joking. Him going to this fundraiser would be like a priest attending a Playboy party.

“What? I can be serious and sensitive. I know how to handle women. Deep down, they know what they really want.” Jude grinned, but it was the expression in his eyes that turned Conor’s stomach. Was he joking? Conor hoped so.

“No, Jude, sit this one out.”

Jude opened his mouth to argue, but closed it quickly at a look from Conor. They may have known each other for years but at the end of the day, Conor signed the paychecks.

“Guess I’ll just have to go to Fannie’s, then.”

Conor laughed with genuine amusement. “Only you could portray going to the most exclusive club in town as akin to making your way into an execution chamber.”

“It’s torture. Knowing you will have Frosty Emily charmed before the night’s over. I want to be there when the ice maiden melts.”

“Shut up, Jude, and go. I want to get changed.”