ct. She had played the role of a heroine in a romance novel, standing up to the brooding hero, and where had it g

er intended to tread. She had thrown a shoe at the great and powerful Mr. Perfect, and now she was paying the pri

n, this time more loudly. She could just imagine the look on Mr. Perfect's face

Jojo laughing hysterically at her own predicament. "What did you expect, taking on the great and powerful Mr. Sulli

ction. "What does he want to do to me?" she ask

ng with amusement. "I don't know, but f

he sneaker didn't even hit him that hard!" she pr

don't know Mr. Sullivan. He's a master of drama

earth had she gotten herself into? She thought, her mind racing with possibil

**

hat little woman stood in front of him, daring to defy him. He had taken in her appearance, his gaze lingering on every detail, from her hair pulled back into a ponytail, revealing a face that was both fierce and fragile, to her chopped fringe highlighting her round, owl-like e

blic humiliation. Who did she think she was, anyway? Standing up to him, throwing a shoe at him, as if she were some kind of... of... he

ng to announce its presence in a lion's den. Gerald opened his eyes, his gaze piercing through the

. He looked like a king on his throne, demanding answers from his loyal subjects. "Wh

darting to Colin, as if seeking backup. "Well, Mr. Sullivan," he be

"Minor concussion? Minor concussion?

h. The doctor, however, stood firm, his expression a mask of professionalism. "I assure you,

tical. "My usual self? You mean, my

ace straight. "Yes, that

ep, husky voice lightening, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I'm going to teac

ared at his side, tablet at the ready. "Yes, boss?" Colin re

in a cell, right?" Gerald asked

n confirmed, his

his voice dripping with drama. "I've suffered a minor concussio

are you demanding from her, boss?" he

m... let's see... I need a therapy session for the trauma of being hit with a sneaker.

xpression a mask of professionalism, but

re a company. Let's just call it loss of business opportunities

amount Gerald was calling, but Colin wrote i

n asked, his pen po

ng with mischief. "Damage to my designer sui

f he should really write down such an excessive demand. But then, with a

at's my total: $660,000. Make sure that little rat

nal, but his eyes sparkling with humor. "Yes

ealing with that little woman. He could almost picture her face contorted in shock and outrage when Colin presen

ining the scene. "That little rat's face will turn beet red with rage, her eyes

here to see it," he thought, his mind conjuring up a mental image of Jojo's r

ming with a mischievous spark. "This is going to be a fun one," he thought,

mile spreading across his face as he drifted off