Wilma picked up the phone, "Maybe you should give the young master a call?"

"Should I, though?"

"Yes, after all, Ms. Young is his lady."

"You have a point." Mrs. York stretched out her hand, and Wilma passed the phone to her with a smile.

Taking the phone, Mrs. York dialed Tyrone's number.

But there was no answer. Mrs. York frowned and dialed again.

Finally, after the fourth attempt, the call connected.

"Mom, I'm in a meeting."

seemed not to catch his drift at all, blurting out, "Oh, you're in a meeting? Well, I was just wondering about that little vixen and the singer's scandal flying high again. Were they caught living together last night? Wasn't she with you? She was practically in your pocket, and you let someone snatch her away?" "Alright, I got it." Tyrone's voice was calm and cool, tinged with a hint

from her son. Since he was little, Tyrone had always been possessive; he wouldn't let anyone touch what

"I'm in a meeting."

York stomped her foot in frustration, "That little enchantress spent the night with

off, "Mom, I thought you

York paused, then huffed, "It's not about liking her or not. It's embarrassing if it gets out that my son lost to another man. How am I supposed to face my card-playing friends? I don't want

"I see!"

can you handle

darkened, "Mom, you can hang up

tossing the phone aside, Tyrone addressed

silent; he glanced at Kevin, who seemed lost in

his gaze over the executives, "I don't care how many all-nighters you pull or what, you

satisfactory merger one

swnove

your year-end bonuses

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