If there was one thing I’d learned from producing news for over a decade, it was that wars are not measured in words, or declarations, or assumptions. They are defined by results, the number of casualties, and land conquered. The colder they are, the longer they last.
I made my way back from picking up my own dry-cleaning once again on a spring afternoon because Miss Humphry, my assistant’s assistant—who’d blackmailed me into the task with a blow job more than a week ago—was adamant I didn’t deserve her help. She had won the first battle.
Currently, Judith was avoiding me. I was avoiding Lily, and my father was loitering around my newsroom, sending Jude looks that made my skin crawl so violently, I was tempted to shed it completely and dump it on my office floor. I thought things could not get any worse, but I’d obviously underestimated the clusterfuck called my life, because sure enough, Dan—the reporter I’d tasked with getting info about Jude—stood at my office threshold when I returned.
“Are you ready for this?”
I was somewhat surprised to learn he’d spent the last week actually working on this and not drinking his body-weight with the advance I transferred into his account.
I waved for him to close the door and take a seat. “Drop the game show mannerism. I’m not a ’60s housewife.”
“So, Judith Humphry is neck deep in shit and currently trying to swim her way out against the stream. Mother died when she was thirteen; Dad diagnosed with cancer about a year ago.” He rubbed his fingers across his lips, delivering the news dryly while settling into the chair opposite to mine. “When your girl found out about her pops, she quit her prestigious-yet-underpaid internship and took two temp jobs to help with the bills. But obviously, her income still couldn’t cover a mortgage in New fucking York, not to mention the everyday life of a property owner in Brooklyn. Her dad recently stopped going to chemotherapy because they can’t afford it. Their bills are unpaid, their fridge is mostly empty, and they live in Bed Stuy.”
If I’d had a heart, it would’ve slowed, almost to a halt. But as it happened, I didn’t, so all I could manage was despising her a little less for the wallet stunt. My face remained placid, so Dan took it as a cue to continue.
“She had a boyfriend, but he seems to be out of the picture. The day you two disappeared into the Laurent Towers Hotel together—and don’t give me any details, because I sure as hell don’t wanna know—was the last time she was seen at his apartment building, according to the CCTV footage. Your girl is unaware of the fact that said boyfriend, Milton, purchased an engagement ring that he is still keeping in his nightstand drawer. But based on the active ghosting she’s doing every time he calls, it’s safe to say a comeback is not in their cards. By the way, did I use the term ghosting correctly?”
I felt my nostrils flaring, and I wasn’t entirely sure what pissed me off more—the fact that Dan was trying to be younger than eighty-five, or that Jude could’ve fucked her boyfriend on the same evening I’d had my dick inside her.
“Continue.”
“As far as her hobbies go, Judith likes reading thrillers while sitting on her porch on Saturday mornings, and she prefers Costa over Starbucks and bagels over tacos. On Sundays, she goes to the New York Public Library and reads everything from Newsweek to The New York Times. She skips the Post every single time, never touches the gossip columns, and munches on Sour Patch Kids when no one is watching.
“She shudders when people dog-ear books, and always stops to listen to buskers. Sometimes she throws money into their instrument cases. She prepares an extra sandwich every morning and gives it to the homeless guy living outside the train station near her house.” He paused, letting out a belch. “Put simply, Jude Humphry is barely existing at this point, moneywise. Even so, she seems to be in good spirits, so if you’re worried about her stealing from her workplace or becoming a double-agent for another broadcasting company, I would say it’s pretty unlikely.”
I was hardly concerned about Jude’s loyalty, but I couldn’t tell Dan I’d had him check on her because my dick and I shared an unhealthy obsession with the girl.
“How much is my father paying you here, Dan?” I stroked my chin, changing the subject.
His gaze shot up from his phone. “A hundred and twenty K. Why?”
“I’ll pay you one-fifty to work for me exclusively.”
“Okay.” The leathery-skinned, fifty-something man smiled at that.
Dan hit the bottle three times a week, and we couldn’t rely on him to chase news around New York without making a pit stop at every bar. But he sure was good enough for digging up dirt.
“I want you to keep an eye on this Milton kid—the boyfriend.”
“Got it.” He wrote something in his notepad. Dan was severely old school, with his tattered courier bag, tape recorder, thinning amber hair, and hate for everything with a flat screen.
“Also, find out who Kipling is. But most importantly, I need you to follow my father.”
I didn’t miss a beat, watching said creeper through the glass wall as he approached Judith. She looked up and pushed off her desk, standing. Her puzzled eyes studied him intently, but otherwise her mouth was curved in a polite smile. My father motioned upstairs, probably to his office. My fist clenched and my jaw tensed so hard I thought my teeth were going to turn to dust.
Dan’s head shot up. “What are we looking to find?”
“Everything and anything that could take him down.”
Before Dan could nod, I smoothed my tie and pressed the switchboard button connecting me to Brianna. “Get me a discreet meeting with Mr. Humphry.”
“Sir, as in Judith Humphry’s father?”
“No, as in Humphrey Bogart. He died sometime in the fifties. I’m sure he’s not a hard man to track.”
Silence from the other end.
“Yes, Brianna, Judith Humphry’s father. And make sure this doesn’t get back to her in any way.”
“Yes, sir.”
More silence. Then, “Sir?”
“What?”
“Thank you for doing your own dry cleaning. I really appreciate it.”
She needed to thank Judith, but of course, I would never admit that. It felt like waving a white flag, and all I could see was red, all I could feel was history repeating itself—with my father trying to seduce Judith and her dress ending up in a puddle, like water on the floor of the electrical closet—Catastrophic.
I put the receiver down, waving Dan away like he was a waiter who’d messed up my order. His chin jiggled, along with his stomach on a chuckle.
“When you least expect it, eh?”
I would’ve asked what he meant, had I cared. “Out,” I said instead.
“Sixteen, by the way.” He pushed himself up, groaning.
“Huh?”
“You asked me how many pairs of Chucks she has. I counted. At least sixteen.”
That’s a lot of fucking moods for one tiny thing.
Shortly after sending Dan on his way, I waltzed out of my office and into the newsroom. Grilling Jude about my Dad was tempting, but I wasn’t a hypocrite, and she didn’t owe me shit.
Besides, it was likely she already felt extra salty after what had happened with Lily, and she had enough on her plate without having my dirty laundry to sort through. I was going to talk to Kate about an item I wanted to scrap from the show tonight when Steve blocked my way to her desk, throwing his body between us like a hysterical mother in front of a speeding car.
Big. Fucking. Mistake, Dudebro.
“Can I help you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I have something you really wanna see, Célian.”
“Please, call me Mr. Laurent. Only my friends call me Célian. Chances are I’ll stab myself in the eye with a fork before initiating a conversation with you about non-professional issues. Start talking.”
I followed him to his desk, and he pointed at his screen, his smile oozing stupidity in a way I didn’t know was physically possible.
“Look.”
To me, it looked like a picture of a random, middle-aged chick trying to sit on a cucumber.
“Are you sharing your porn stash with me, Steve? Because A, my taste is a little more conservative, and B, it is strictly forbidden to access erotic websites in this building.”
“She’s the vice president of Together Forever, a non-profit organization for people with ADHD. Got caught doing this salacious act at her bachelorette party.” Steve cackled, his smug smile screaming jackpot.
“Here’s the part where you tell me why I should care.” I began to sort through emails on my phone, losing patience.
“Because…because…look what she’s doing!” He cried out, pointing at his screen. “She’s legit trying to fit a cucumber into her vag.”
I turned around and walked away. This wasn’t an item. It wouldn’t even be an item if she was a legitimate celebrity. That was Gary and Ava’s jurisdiction. But it highlighted the fact that right now, Steve was using a lot of space, resources, and oxygen that should have been offered to someone more capable than him. Kate was already standing up when I approached, her flame-red bob appearing sharper than usual.
“He’s impossible.” She pretended to puff on her pen. Ever since she’d stopped smoking, she did that with everything from Sharpies to asparagus stalks.
“My dog can do a better job than him.” I braced my hands over her desk. “And I don’t even have one. A word?”
“Oh, no. Smells like a canned item in the making.” Kate and I walked to the conference room, and I shot a look at Judith to see if she’d followed us with her eyes the way I followed her everywhere she went in the office. She was typing away, looking at her monitor. Kate caught my ogling and smirked. I rarely spared my employees a look. Her eyes joined mine on Jude.
Did I fuck up by not giving Jude a heads-up about my situation? Yes. But did I think my one-night stand was going to end up being my employee? Hell no.
“She is pretty.” Kate leaned her head over my shoulder. I shrugged.
“Arguing with that would imply that I’m blind, which I’m not.”
“She’s also kind, smart, and funny. A natural in the newsroom.”
“Get to the point sometime this calendar year, please.”
“You’ve got it hard for her, Célian.”
Kate ran a hand over my shirt, and I had to clear my throat, because this was wrong on so many levels I couldn’t even begin to count them. My job was to expose unethical behavior and bring factual news to the table. I wasn’t going to piss all over it for a girl with feline eyes and hair like yellow autumn leaves. Not to mention, to most people in the world, I was an engaged man. But not to Kate. She knew my story, all of it. Which was why she refused to speak to my father under any circumstances.
“Can’t do anything about it.” I tapped away on the table I leaned against.
“You can if it’s consensual. People fall in love at their workplace all the time. It’s not against the law.”
“I’m her boss. Also the devil spawn of the owner.”
“An owner who is actively trying to get into her pants.” Kate raised a finger, pointing it out.
“Precisely. Besides…” I rubbed my face. “Lily.”
“Break up with her. Call off the engagement. And don’t give me the Newsflash Corp bullshit. It’s about time.”
“Like hell I will. My father would have a fucking field day if I give up the only leverage I have on him.”
Ever since my baby sister died, I’d become even more career driven. My eyes were on the prize and had never shifted—until Judith walked into this building. Lily Davis had an influential father and her siblings had both given up on their family business. Lily was going to inherit Newsflash Corp, and her family was a shareholder at LBC, with as much as ten percent. So joining their family meant I could overthrow every decision my father had made, if I combined their shares with my mother’s. The merger between LBC and Newsflash Corp was going to make me one of the biggest tycoons in the world once my father stepped down.
Which was why he’d done what he did and ruined what little promise I had left going on in my life.
“Irrelevant. Your father is a douche and his feelings toward what you do, or lack thereof, should not determine your choices.”
I hated that Kate was the voice of reason. I also hated that she was pretty much the only friend I had who I was certain wouldn’t stab me in the back the minute I turned around. I was short on friends, seeing as I trusted no one, including my fucking coffee machine.
“As for your world-domination aspirations…” She raised her hand to pat my cheek, clucking her tongue. “Grow up, Célian. What’s the point of being powerful if you’re miserable?”
I changed the subject, because none of it mattered. I wasn’t throwing away my plans, nor my idiotic fiancée. Judith was…Judith. Undoubtedly beautiful, not in the way women in magazines were, but in a way that makes you want to mark her with your teeth, tongue, and piss if need be. Hardworking and smart. There was a chance—albeit a small one—that if I broke things off with Lily and told Judith the entire story, she would still be willing to give the enemies-with-benefits thing a chance. And Kate was right. A consensual affair in the workplace wasn’t unheard of.
But we weren’t going to be lovers.
We were going to be two people fucking each other into submission, and a fuck—no matter how good—wasn’t worth my entire future.
I fell to my seat, noticing that Steve was throwing a fit and yelling at Jessica in the middle of the newsroom. Jude hurried over to them, took Jessica’s hand, and led her away.
“We’re canning the flammable cellphone item,” I told Kate distractedly. She punched the desk between us, then noiselessly yelled at the pain. “I knew you’d do that.”
“Get everyone in the conference room. Now.”
Five minutes later, everyone was inside, including a solemn Jessica and a defiant Judith. Kate was outside, on a quick phone call.
“We need a new item to close up the show. At this point I’ll take anything. A feature. A kicker. A piece about anything that’s not completely stupid. Brainstorm away.” I tapped my finger over the chrome conference table.
Everybody looked at their digital devices, typing text messages to their sources and generally being productive. Steve, however, sat with his arms crossed and sulked like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum.
“Got it! A pop star with an American passport was just murdered in a strip club in Korea.” Kate swung the door open and walked into the fishbowl meeting room, still staring at her phone.
“Steve, I know you like a good gossip. Can you follow that up?” Kate was already texting her source.
“Sure. North or South?” He scratched his head with the tip of his pen.
The silence that followed his question almost made my ears bleed. He thought there were strip clubs in North Korea?
That was it.
I was done.
“Out of my newsroom. Now.”
“But—”
“Another word, and you won’t be working anywhere on this street for the rest of your life.”
“I just—”
“Manhattan.”
“Mr. Laurent! I—”
“You’ve just been blacklisted in the entire city of New York.”
“Please!”
“Correction: state.”
“I didn’t…” Steve darted up from his chair with his arms stretched wide, looking left and right for support. Unfortunately for him, he’d managed to piss off my entire staff in the two months he’d been here.
“Steve, you are on the verge of metaphorical deportation. What’s not to understand? Get the hell out. Humphry, you’re replacing him as a slightly less junior reporter starting two minutes ago. And since Jessica is hard on the Wall Street item, you’re taking over the pop star coverage.”
The only thing I had in mind was to get someone with a functioning brain to write me the report, and fast, because all my reporters were drowning in work, and Steve obviously couldn’t scratch his own head without cutting it off. I didn’t favor her in any way because I wanted into her pants. I also knew she would die before getting ahead in the game by giving head.
Steve growled, throwing his hands in the air and stalking out of the conference room. He collected his crap from his station and dumped his employee card in the trash can by the door, which was technically against the company rules, but didn’t put a damper on the fact I’d finally gotten rid of him.
“Me?” Jude looked up, her green-brown-golden irises dilating. It was excitement, I think, and it made me so fucking hard I was surprised I didn’t tilt up my side of the table.
“Jessica will help you with whatever you need.”
Jessica nodded, squeezing Judith’s hand. “Of course. I’m here for you, JoJo.”
JoJo shot up from her seat. “I will not let you down, sir.”
I know, and hell if that doesn’t make me harder than an oak tree.
I was so used to people fucking up that having someone constantly step up their game was a disappointment in itself. She was the kind of good I’d only seen one person exhibit proudly. And that was Camille.
Fuck. Where did that come from?
“Back to work, everyone.” I collected my things and opened the glass door, motioning for people to leave. I expected Judith to do what they all did when I promoted them. Stop. Thank me. Melt into a puddle at my feet. Alas, Miss Humphry merely passed me on her way back to her station, not sparing me so much as a glance.
In a moment of madness, I decided to go the stupid route and touched her back ever-so-briefly. She turned around, cocking an eyebrow.
“Tomorrow. Lunch.” The room was empty, so why did it feel like I was suggesting I ravage her on James Townley’s desk during primetime, tinting her ass red with my open palm?
“I’ll be busy,” she said flatly.
“This will be a professional meeting regarding your new position.” Probably should have started with that. Idiot.
“And I will still be busy. Whatever you need from me, I am happy to talk about it right here, in the office. Now, I have an assignment to do. Will that be all, sir?”
I let her walk away, briefly wondering when the tables had turned. She’d started as a nameless dirty fuck, and had somehow dug her way out of that compromising position. The girl who’d stolen from me was now getting a promotion, getting me to do my own dry cleaning, and sassing back.
Yeah, I don’t think so.
Jude grabbed her phone and started dialing, already flipping her recorder on and connecting it to her cell.
“Hello, my name is Jude Humphry, and I’m a reporter at LBC’s Daily Newsnight. I’m calling about the unfortunate and untimely death of Sung Min Chae…”
I looked down, and I was still hard.
I think I’d changed my mind about Chucks after all.
She deserved a few more fucks before I stopped giving any about her.
