Chapter 50 – Pleasing the Boss

When André turns back to us, he focuses on Brystin. “Enjoy the show?”

Unfortunately, I’m tapped on the shoulder just then by the hall’s security guard, but not before I catch Brystin’s scowl in my direction. “Theater’s locked up,” the guard informs me.

The festivities outside the theater will continue for another hour at least, but the hall is always a priority in lockup, mostly so that guests won’t sneak in and destroy the set, though the only trespassers that have ever been caught were couples looking for an unusual place to f**k.

“You’ve checked every door?” I ask, wanting to be certain it’s secure.

“Twice. Lights out too.”

I thank him and let him go on his way, in time for André to indicate it’s our turn to walk. “Hadrian Seymour coming through,” he calls to the crowd.

All eyes immediately shift toward me, cameras pointed in my direction. I put my hand again at Brystin’s back, and this time she gets so tense she doesn’t move.

“Come on,” I whisper.

“Not me! I thought this was just you.”

“You’re my date. So it’s both of us.” Admittedly, I’ve been shit at explaining anything to her tonight. She was so grateful the evening I showed her the studio, when I let her in on all the plans about the show, when I talked to her like she had a say in the production. I don’t generally have those sorts of conversations with our stars. It’s not my job to interact with programming on this level in general.

That right there is reason enough not to do it again.

But the real reason I’ve kept her in the dark has nothing to do with practicalities. I do enjoy keeping her on her toes, but that isn’t the reason either. Quite simply put, I’m still mad at her. Mad about a commitment she made to a f**ktwat way before I ever came into the picture.

And now I have to hope that she’s as good on her feet as I know she is, otherwise not prepping her could end in disaster for both of us.

“I can’t go out in front of cameras as your date.” Before I can try to ease her mind, she voices her true concern. “I don’t trust you with that remote control in your pocket.”

“f**k, Brystin, we don’t have time for this.” I attempt to nudge her forward.

“Hand over the remote.”

No way. I’m not done playing with her, and I know if I hand it over, I’ll never see it again. “We’re walking the carpet together, Brystin, right the f**k now. This is not a debate.”

“I don’t trust you,” she whisper-repeats.

She has every reason not to trust me, but I’m not sending her toward orgasm in front of the media. Believe it or not, I know when to draw the line. Usually when it’s my own ass on the plate, and it is very much so right now.

Not that she needs to know that. Let her be scared I’ll use it. It will keep her on her toes. “I’m not giving you the remote.”

Everyone is still very much focused on us. A few people are starting to whisper. André looks ready to jump into action, an excuse for the delay likely on the tip of his t***ue.

I don’t need my assistant to fix this problem. “Just chatting about whether or not she left her opera glasses in the theater,” I announce to the line of p**ss. I turn to Brystin and speak loud enough for everyone to hear. “They’ll still be waiting for us when we’re done here.”

For half a second, I’m afraid she isn’t going to play along.

But then she smiles radiantly. “They were a gift from my husband. Wouldn’t want to lose them.”

Of course she has to mention him.

“Go ahead, Hadrian. You’re the one they want to speak to.” She steps aside so I can pass, and now she’s beaten me at my own game.

Well, almost beaten me.

I go ahead and pass her, but I take her hand in mine to tug her along, and yes, also it’s a big f**k you to that husband of hers. A bold declaration too, but I can deal with that later.

With her hand in mine, I answer the questions from the p**ss, making sure to deliver a good sound bite to the most prominent reporters. “As most of you know, this event is very close to my father’s heart. He doesn’t do too many of these evening things since his heart attack, but I assure you he’s as fully supportive as always, and on behalf of him and the rest of my family—several of my siblings and cousins are here tonight—SNC is matching any donations up to twenty-five million dollars given to the Freedom of the p**ss Foundation before midnight.”

As planned, I stay on point, neglecting to introduce Brystin until she’s asked after, as though she’s an afterthought and not the entire reason for her presence tonight. “Beautiful girl on your arm tonight, Hadrian. You usually attend these events solo.”

The question even comes from a non-affiliate station. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect segue. “Ah, yes. I’m thrilled to introduce you to Brystin Shaw. Not a date—as she already mentioned, this fine woman is already married, but she’s with me tonight in support of this very important cause, and, you know, I’m going to let the cat out of the bag a couple of days early—Brystin is the host of SNC’s new show, Our Nation Now, debuting in a little over two weeks. We’re privileged and lucky to have her at the network, and I know America is going to really connect with Brystin’s in-depth perspective on the present state of the country on the micro-level.”

She’s surprised about the announcement, but she doesn’t show it.

Easily, and with the innate skill that I knew she possessed, Brystin steps into the spotlight and speaks informatively about both the show and her thoughts on protecting p**ss freedoms.

She’s brilliant.

Every much the star I’ve always believed she could be.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re through the p**ss line, and Our Nation Now has been announced to the world, and Brystin has had a chance to prove she’s worth the hype before the hype.

All in all, a good day’s work.

André confirms everything has gone as it should on the back end. “I’ve contacted Sarah and told her the p**ss releases are ready to go. She’s setting up interviews for next week with you and Brystin. I’ll have that schedule to you by morning. The first commercial spot is airing at the next break on tonight’s schedule. And I haven’t seen Hunter in the last ten minutes. There’s a chance he missed the announcement altogether.”

Doubtful.

“He’ll find out when he’s on the carpet, if he doesn’t know before.” There’s no way he won’t be questioned about this programming bomb drop, especially since SNC hasn’t aired a new show since I’ve taken the helm.

But I’ve done what I can for now.

Hunter is not who I want to be thinking about for the rest of the evening.

“Thank you, André. We’ll be heading out now. Keep me updated by text.”

“Should I call your car for you?”

“I’ll take care of it.” I don’t tell him that heading out doesn’t mean we’re leaving the building.

“All right then. Have a good night.” He nods to Brystin. “Ms. Shaw.” Then he’s bustling off to do whatever it is he does when he’s making sure my world continues to run smoothly.

Brystin hasn’t spoken a word to me since we stepped off the carpet. I study her now, trying to read into the stare she’s giving, but it’s not an exp**ssion of hers that I recognize yet, and I f**king hate that I have to ask. “What?”

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