Chapter 38 – Pleasing the Boss

“One man with the last name Seymour,” I admit. “And nervous is not the word I’d use to describe how he makes me feel.”

“Understood,” he says, but he can’t understand. Because I don’t understand, not truly. I understand that I’m currently pissed as all get out, but underneath that there is a swarm of bees in my stomach, buzzing and stinging my insides with anticipation. Three weeks without seeing Hadrian, and I am not able to articulate how off-balance I felt until he messaged.

Fuck him for that.

For waiting, for keeping me in the dark. For making me want him and then stretching out the longing over too many minutes to keep count.

I might be more mad about that than being fired, but I don’t want to analyze that right now. I can’t.

We stop on the twenty-first floor, which means nothing to me since I’m not that familiar with the Seymour Center’s layout, but if André is taking me to Hadrian’s office, I’m surprised it’s not on a higher floor.

But when we step off the elevator, all I see is one long hallway and a set of double doors at the end. Heavy double doors. The kind that prevent noise from getting through. Definitely not the kind of doors that lead to executive offices.

And yet, that’s exactly where André takes me. After entering another code into another keypad, he opens the doors, and he sends me in. “Mr. Seymour will meet you inside.”

Alone, I hope.

So I can tell him off. Not for any other reason.

My heels click on the hard floor as I walk in. There’s a fresh paint smell to the air. It’s dark, but there are lights on the other side of the room. Immediately, I recognize that I’m in a studio. Camera equipment is circled around a center stage. The ceiling is high. Long beams hang low with lights attached. The producer’s window is seen on the wall beyond the cameras. In the middle of it all is a sleek, modernly designed news desk with a huge multi-paneled screen behind it.

The entire scene isn’t new to me. Even at SNC, it looks pretty much like what we have back at News 9. I wouldn’t be impressed with any of it except that the screen displays a red black and gold logo with the words Our Nation Now.

My hand flies to my mouth. This isn’t just any studio.

This is my studio.

Our Nation Now is my show. My national show.

“I hope you like the color scheme we came up with. It’s too late to change it, if you don’t.”

I turn around to find Hadrian. He must have been waiting in the shadows because the doors haven’t opened since they closed behind me. Part of me wants to tease him about that, considering that this afternoon he said he waits for no one.

Part of me still wants to scream at him for getting me fired.

The last part of me wants to hug him.

The last part wins out.

I drop my purse and phone to the ground, not caring about potential damage, and rush to him, throwing my arms around him, whether he wants it or not.

His body stiffens in surprise at the contact, but it’s only for a quick second. After that, he hugs me back, his body enveloping me in a warm cocoon.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his suit jacket. I swear I feel his lips brush against my hair.

Probably, I’m imagining it.

Imagining it because I’ve been dreaming about being in his arms like this for the last week. Being in his arms and feeling like I belong there.

Which I don’t.

Remembering that pulls me out of the fantasy, and I jerk back quickly.

Then I push him hard with my palms. “You asshole!”

He doesn’t budge even with as much force as I used. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You had me fired.”

“I got you a better job. In case the name of the show isn’t obvious, this is your new gig, Brystin.” He has the audacity to sound like I’m out of line.

“I get that, and I’m grateful. Truly. You can’t know how grateful.” I push him again. “But you can’t do that!”

“I…think I can. I obviously did.”

“It’s not just about the job—it’s about my reputation.” I’m emotional as I speak, both because of how passionately I feel about making him understand I don’t accept what he did today, and also because this surprise is so ridiculously fulfilling. “Rumors will circulate. People will wonder how I could get fired and then get a job here. You and I might know the truth, but countless other people won’t. And I left them without an anchor! On the day of the show. That’s so fucking unprofessional, and I hate being seen that way. I hate it, Hadrian. And I hate how I can be so mad at you for doing that to me, for exercising your power like that, and be simultaneously so happy that you used your power to give me my dream. I seriously don’t know if I want to slug you or get down on my knees.”

He waits a beat before responding. “Complicated feelings you have there.”

I dab at an errant tear. “Well, it’s a complicated situation.”

“Personally, I’d prefer you get down on your knees.”

“Would you, now?” My pulse quickens at the thought.

But he’s teased and stretched the foreplay so long now that I don’t even know if he means it. I’m near convinced he gets off on lording his power over me more than from sexual favors.

If I never get to hold that cock of his in my hands…

I dismiss the thought and turn around to look at the logo again. My logo.

And the desk—my desk.

I walk past the cameras and onto the set. When I get to the desk I trail my hand along the smooth surface as I travel its length then circle around to the chair behind it. My chair.

“It’s arched so that we can put more chairs behind it. It will be a similar roundtable format of New Jersey Now, but I thought the reveal was more dramatic with just the one.”

“Uh, yeah.” I smile then let it disappear, needing to take a deep breath before climbing into the dramatically placed solo chair. “Wow.”

Hadrian moves next to the main camera, as if to see what the audience will see. “You look good there.”

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