“Advertising’s noticed an uptick too. Brands that used to distance themselves are now fighting for spots.”
“I don’t suppose you’re gearing up to offer me a raise?” Jackson asked.
“The thing that I didn’t count on,” Cassidy continued, “was just how in demand your story would be.”
Jackson stiffened. “My story?”
Cassidy blew out a breath. “You’re big news, Burke. I thought it would blow over once the world came to grips with the end of your pro career, but there are rumors of a movie coming out, and your ex-wife gives interviews to anyone who will ask, and the publicity department has been inundated with interview requests.”
“Just spit it out, boss. If my notoriety is hurting the magazine, you can just say so.”
“Far from it,” Cassidy said with a grim smile. “I want to use that notoriety to sell magazines. And if you want to punch me in the face, fine, but give me a few days.”
Jackson frowned. “Why?”
Cassidy let loose with a rare grin, then opened his desk drawer and pulled out a velvet box. Flipping it open, he revealed one hell of a diamond.
“Holy shit,” Jackson said. “Congratulations, man.”
“Thanks. But let’s hold the congratulations until after she says yes.”
“You’re worried?”
Cassidy gave a rueful smile. “Let’s just say the last time I put a ring on Emma Sinclair’s finger, it didn’t end well.”
“You sure you don’t want me to give you that shiner, then?” Jackson asked. “Maybe a black eye would summon her feminine sympathetic instincts.”
“Don’t know that my woman has those. She’s kind of badass,” Cassidy said, looking down at the ring with a dopey, adoring smile.
“Oh, man, you’re so whipped,” Jackson said with a smirk.
“Definitely.” Cassidy snapped the box shut, put it back in the drawer, and faced Jackson once more, his usual straight face back in place. “So, thoughts?”
“About your girlfriend? I’ve only met her once, but first thought: super hot.”
Cassidy’s eyes narrowed, but Jackson could only shrug. Emma Sinclair was hot. Tall, slim, tailored, a tiny bit haughty until you saw her eyes, which radiated warmth. At least when she looked at Cassidy.
“I was talking about your willingness to use your public status for the sake of Oxford.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” Jackson asked warily. “You want me to agree to a couple of those interviews in exchange for a shout-out to the mag?”
Cassidy sat back in his chair. “I was thinking something a little more in-house.”
“Dude, just spit it out. I can handle it.”
His boss leaned forward again. “Let us interview you. Let us tell the Jackson Burke story, Oxford exclusive. An inside look at one of our own.”
“Ah, shit,” Jackson said.
He understood why Cassidy had to ask, but Jackson couldn’t help feeling a brief stab of betrayal. He hadn’t realized it until now, but Oxford was supposed to be his safe place. His people. The place where he could finally get away from being, well, Jackson Burke.
“I get it,” Cassidy said. “And know this—your job is safe, whatever your answer. But Oxford isn’t the only one that can benefit from this.”
“Shit, Cassidy,” Jackson repeated tiredly, throwing back the last drops of his espresso. “The whole this-is-for-your-own-good routine? You’re better than that.”
“I know you want the world to forget about you, to leave you alone, and they will. But it’s going to take a damn long time as long as you stay wrapped up in mystery. The sooner you give them what they want, the sooner their curiosity is satisfied, the sooner they’ll move on.”
Jackson slouched in his chair and tapped his fingers on the paper cup.
“You know I’m right,” Cassidy said, shaking his head. “And if you do it through us, you get to control it. It’s on your terms. It’ll be your friends.”
“My friends?”
“You’re a football player, Burke. Our sports section is one of the best in the industry thanks to Cole and Penelope, and—”
“Cole and Penelope. That’s who you want to have tell my story.”
“You know what?” Cassidy said, holding up his hands. “You’re right. You go ahead and go find some stranger—some hungry-for-scandal reporter—and have them tell your story. Better yet, let the paparazzi continue to stalk this building, taking pictures of you. Let your publicist continue to field shitty request after shitty request, and—”
“Oh, save your speech,” Jackson grumbled. “I’ll think about it.”
Cassidy eyed him closely. “Do.”
Jackson stood. “We done?”
His boss nodded. “And Burke…”
Jackson paused halfway to the door but didn’t turn around.
“You can trust us,” Cassidy said quietly.
Jackson left his boss’s office without responding.
Chapter 14
On Friday evening, just days after her sister had flown into New York and then flown back to Houston without so much as a goodbye, and since Mollie had kissed Jackson Burke, she stood in front of her closet and tried not to think about either one.
Not Madison.