Page 132 of Forty, Flirty & Framed

"I wasn't sulking, Gran.I was strategizing.”

"Call it what you will."She hands me my suit jacket."Now go close your acquisition, then find that girl and apologize properly.With that lovely Scottish eloquence you pretend not to have."

* * *

Three hours later,I stand in the Abernathy Corp boardroom, surrounded by smiling executives and a signed acquisition agreement that secures our terms entirely.

Duncan MacTavish is conspicuously absent, having been removed by his own board after Luke's evidence went public.

"Congratulations, Mr.Abernathy," the lead counsel says, shaking my hand."Quite a turnaround from last week's situation."

"Indeed," I agree, eyes drawn to the large display screens around the room, all showing variations of Karina's #TheRealKarina campaign, which has apparently exploded across social media in the hours since she posted it.

"Remarkable timing," one board member comments."The Peters woman's campaign has completely reframed the public perception.We're now being hailed as champions of authentic corporate culture."

"Her name is Karina," I remind him, perhaps a tad too harshly."And yes, her campaign is remarkable.If you'll excuse me, I have an important matter to attend to."

I leave before anyone can respond, already dialing Connor as I stride toward the elevator.

"Where is she?"I demand.

"Hello to you too," he replies dryly."Acquisition go well?"

"Connor, focus.Where's Karina?"

"According to Ariana, who heard from Susanna, she's at her mother's house.Apparently she's gardening as a stress response to putting her entire life story on the internet."

"Address?"

I'm already in the parking garage, heading for my car.

"Sending it now.And Callum?Don't screw this up.The internet is invested in your love story at this point.I've already had to talk Luke out of establishing a surveillance perimeter around her mother's house."

* * *

Forty minutes later,I pull up to a modest bungalow in a working-class Seattle neighborhood.

The small front yard has been transformed into an impressive vegetable garden, where I immediately spot Karina kneeling in the dirt, her hair tied back in a bandana, completely absorbed in weeding a row of what appear to be cucumbers.

Beside her, an older gentleman I recognize as Dr.Finnegan is methodically staking tomato plants, keeping up a running commentary on their relative merits.

"You see, the heirloom varieties might look impressive, but they lack disease resistance.Much like certain tech CEOs I could mention—all flash and heritage, insufficient practical immunity."

Karina laughs, the sound hitting me in the chest with unexpected force."Are you comparing Callum Abernathy to a tomato?"

"Not at all," Dr.Finnegan replies seriously."Tomatoes are far less stubborn.And they don't wear kilts."

"Some of them are Scottish, though," she prods."Black Scotch is an heirloom variety."

"Ah, but does it have the thighs to crush a whisky barrel?That's the real question."

I clear my throat, unable to endure another moment of vegetable-based mockery.

They both look up, startled.

"Callum," Karina breathes, straightening so quickly she knocks over a watering can, sending a small flood across the garden path.

"Speak of the devil," Dr.Finnegan remarks ."Or should I say, speak of the tomato?"