He said he’d had a feeling Mathias was beginning to shit on our quality in a bid to damage the network a second before he disappeared off the radar. He needed to tend to his health, and he seemed to know he didn’t have much longer on the president throne. Hoping to counteract this, James had had the same feeling I did—that Dan was motivated by money and could be a good free agent. James also confessed that with Phoenix back in town and my engagement crumbling, he wanted to make sure I was protected against Mathias.
“Precisely,” I said. “But all the shit Dan discovered still doesn’t cover my ass against Mathias. You gave me nothing but hearsay.”
James’s eyes darkened, and he suddenly looked much older than his days. “We can let others do the job for us. Just send it to the different networks,” he suggested. “Let the problem fix itself. He’ll have to step down.”
I appreciated it, him trying to help me out. But there was no need.
I shook my head. “LBC would take an even greater hit if we do that.”
“But we can’t just let Mathias get away with it.” Jude squeezed my hand. A sweet gesture from my greatest sin.
I turned toward her, a smirk maneuvering its way across my face. “We won’t.”
Then I became homeless.
I’d terminated my lease effective Sunday, the day I was supposed to fly out to Los Angeles. Only it was technically Monday morning now, and I was nowhere near the west coast. That meant I had to spend the night somewhere, and fortunately that place was Judith’s Brooklyn apartment.
To my cock’s disappointment, I slept on the couch. But it was still better than sleeping in a million-star hotel or at the Laurent Towers, which I couldn’t even look at after I’d learned what I had about Mathias not being my father.
I wasn’t the one who’d cheated on him.
Yet I was the one who’d taken most of his wrath.
In the morning, Judith made her father a shake from what looked like sewer water, puke, and misery, and slid a bowl of cereal my way. It wasn’t even a brand. It was poured right out of a six-pound industrial box with a Costco logo.
“Cavities and diabetes. Breakfast of champions,” I muttered into the bowl as I took a spoonful.
“My apologies. Our room service doesn’t work on Mondays.” Jude took a seat next to her dad and patted his veiny hand.
I fucking loved this girl. What she lacked in funds she made up for with love.
“That’s fine.” I waved her off. “I can be in charge of breakfast when we move in together.”
Utensils clattered on plates, and Rob’s eyes ping-ponged between us. There was a lot of amusement in them.
Jude studied me, trying to gauge whether I was kidding or not.
I wasn’t.
“I’m not a breakfast person,” she said. “And yes, I know it’s the most important meal of the day.”
My eyes slid down her midriff and stopped where the table covered her. I smiled. “No, it isn’t.”
“You’re awful.” She hid her smile behind her coffee mug.
“And you’re going to let me pick your Chucks today,” I retorted.
Robert laughed. “Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?” Her cheeks were doing this hamster thing, where she stifled a laugh and looked too cute doing so.
It was sickening, really, how I felt about her. I would find the word embarrassing fitting if I didn’t own up to that shit.
“Your chests humming. You’re happy, kids.” Rob took a sip of his shake, grimacing. “The happiest you’ve ever been.”
A little while later we took the train to work, both staring at her dove white Chucks. My pick. I wanted a clean slate. A fresh start.
“You know, you can still take the job in Los Angeles.” She flipped Kipling absentmindedly, staring at it as she spoke. “LBC is falling apart, and I don’t expect these revelations to change your commitment to your new job.”
“My only commitment is to the company I need to inherit, and to the only girl who’s capable of calling me out on my bullshit. Not in that order.”
She looked up. “And who would that be?”
I twisted the collar of her shirt into a ball and jerked her to me in a kiss, not giving a fuck that everybody was watching. Or that we were standing up, clasped between dozens of sweaty, exasperated people starting their Monday. Not caring about anything but her. Our lips touched, and my cock was a second away from shouting Hallelujah. Her mouth was soft and warm and mine, and her body melted against my own in a way that could only mean one thing.
It was back on. And this time, I wasn’t going to let go.
“Célian?” Blu, AKA my so-called replacement as news director, scratched his curly, dandruff-ridden hair.
He was standing in my office, shuffling full boxes from side to side. I breezed right in, carrying my Starbucks and throwing two pieces of mint gum into my mouth. With all due respect—and let’s admit it, I didn’t have a whole lot of it for him, the guy was a former associate producer at a cable news channel in Nebraska—I didn’t owe him more than a brief explanation.
“Sharp on a Monday morning. I like that, Blu. Now get the fuck out of my office.” I dumped my leather briefcase under my desk and powered up my laptop.
Brianna came running from the hallway, panting out my name. “Sir! Célian! Sir! What are you doing here?”
Poor thing thought she’d gotten rid of me. I tsked. I decided to go easy on her, since I was going to have to be a little more tolerable for Jude’s sake—especially after my so-called dumping of her so publicly.
“Brianna. Good morning. Feel free to drop my items at the usual dry cleaners’. You can use the wait time to chill.” I hated that word, but it needed to be said. I also still hated doing my own dry cleaning, and I really did think Brianna could use a little down time. “But you can no longer drink on shift, unless you want your ass thrown into rehab.”
“Rehab?” she wheezed. I motioned with my hand, drinking from an invisible small bottle of liquor. She nodded and bowed her head. “Yes, sir.”
Blu and I were left alone in the room again. I crossed my ankles atop the desk, leaning back. “Well, Blu, there’s good news and bad news. Which would you like me to break first?”
The middle-aged, beer-bellied man in front of me looked down at his shoes, his chest quivering with an uneven breath. “Bad news.”
“The bad news is you will not be taking my position—not in the next few months, anyway—and the good news is that you still get a job, if you want it. And you know what the great news is?”
He looked up, and hell, the smile on his face told me he was on board. That finally, things were falling into place for me.
“What?” he asked.
“The news I am going to make in this newsroom today.”
I’d expected Mathias to blaze onto the floor and make a spectacle out of the situation. The fact that he remained silent suggested he was strategizing about how to tackle the bane of his existence, AKA yours truly. I gave him his time because I actually had work to do.
The LA people were crushed to hear I wasn’t joining them, but I invited them to send their staff to New York and promised to train their new employees. Judith ran from place to place around the newsroom, her cheeks flushed. Kate, Jessica, and Elijah seemed glad I hadn’t left, and Brianna smiled guiltily and waved her hand every time I shifted my eyes to make sure she wasn’t reaching for her top drawer to take a mini bottle out.
Five hours into our workday, while I was knee-deep in something in the newsroom, I got a phone call from the sixtieth floor.
“It’s your father.” Brianna came as close as she could, holding the corded phone in her hand.
No, it is not, and thank fuck for that.
He hadn’t even called my cell. Instead he was making a whole fucking show about it, like I knew he would.
“He wants to speak to you,” she said.
“He knows where to find me.”
“He’s asking if you can come up to his office.”
“I can’t. But he can come down. Or not. Giving a shit is not on my agenda today.”
“He said he’ll call security.” Brianna’s face was so red, for a moment I worried she might explode.
“Tell him that’s a very good idea. I’ve been thinking about getting rid of his ass for a long time now.” The room fell quiet, everybody staring at me. I nodded my chin to the phone.
“Tell him that, Brianna. You’re just following my orders. Word for word, please.”