Page 79 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"Will you?" His eyes search mine. "Because your latest draft reads like our internal memos, Mac. That's not industry analysis anymore. That's?—"

"Mr. Drake?" Emma appears in the doorway. "The board is asking about information security protocols again. And Keith is trying to teach the interns something called 'Deck the Halls with Confidential Data.'"

I sigh. Alex nods at Emma, who walks away.

After a second, he speaks.

"Tonight," Alex says quietly. "Dinner at my place. We need to talk about this."

I should say no. Should focus on the gala, should rethink the exposé that's burning a hole in my laptop.

"Okay," I hear myself say instead, because I'm weak and he smells like snow and success and everything I'm about to lose.

His smile holds equal parts love and concern. "Seven o'clock. Unless Keith's choir needs more supervision?"

As if on cue, Keith's voice carries from the hallway: "On the first day of revolution, my true love gave to me... access to the salary databaseeee..."

Alex sighs, drops a quick kiss on my mouth, and heads out to handle what sounds like a crisis involving revolutionary garland placement and Brad's emotional support tinsel.

Through the ballroom windows, I watch Seattle's snow transform the city into something magical. The kind of magic I'm about to destroy with an exposé that goes far beyond leaked compensation data.

Later on, I tell my sister Lucia everything in my office.

"Mac." Lucia's voice is gentle. "You need to make a choice."

"I know." I sink into a chair, watching Alex through the glass doors as he confiscates what appears to be a USB drive decorated with holiday stickers from Keith's revolutionary choir. "I know."

But what if I've already made too many wrong ones?

Later that nightat our agreed-upon dinner, Alex's penthouse smells like rosemary and wine and imminent disaster. The snow falls harder outside floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase Seattle's twinkling holiday lights, making everything feel intimate and dangerous.

"You're quiet tonight," he observes, pouring more wine. The kitchen island's marble is smooth and cool against my legs where I perch watching him cook. He's traded his CEO suit for dark jeans and another soft-looking sweater that makes him look casually edible. "Thinking about the blog?"

"Something like that."

He adds something to the pan that smells amazing. "Talk to me, Mac. What's really going on?"

"It's nothing." I take too large a sip of wine. "Just... thinking about changes. In the industry. In everything."

"Changes are good," he says carefully. "But method matters. Sources matter."

The guilt nearly chokes me.

"Alex..."

"I want to support you." He moves to stand between my knees, hands settling on my waist. "But lately... these posts, the level of detail. It's more than just industry critique now."

"Stop." I can't breathe around the weight of his concern.

"Why?" His thumb carves a path under my chin, but his eyesare serious. "Because you know I'm right? Because whatever you're working on is bigger than just blog posts?"

My heart stops. Does he know about the exposé?

"You don't understand."

"Then help me understand." He kisses me softly. "Because I love you, Mac. All of you. The critic and the champion. But something's changed. You're pushing boundaries that have consequences."

His kiss tastes like wine and worry and everything I'm about to destroy.

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