“Raphael Visconti is a massive dickhead,” I drawl, reading it out in my best bored tone. “Wow, how long did it take you to think of that tagline?”
“The advertising agency said I wasn’t allowed to use ‘cunt’.”
“I’m surprised they let you put it up at all.”
“Mm. Nico pulled a few strings. Oh—but he insists I tell you it wasn’t his idea.”
I glance down at her, amusement filling my chest. “Who’s idea was it then?”
“Tayce’s, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
In my suit pocket, my cell starts to buzz. Then it buzzes again and again, and I have no doubt it’s everyone within a ten mile radius asking me about the coast’s latest landmark.
Penny shifts beside me, pressing her quilted body into my side. “Are you mad?”
I laugh, wrapping my arm around her. “I’m impressed, baby. You even found a picture of me mid-blink. I thought my PR team erased all of them from Google.”