Page 83 of Well, Actually
Part of me wants to cry with a sudden, jolting fear that I’ll lose this undemanding sense of peace I’ve found with Rylie like I’ve lost it with everyone else. Then again, I’ve never actually had it with anyone else…
I refuse to let that fear win. Rylie came back to me. I can’t live in fear I’ll lose him a second time and miss these perfect moments in that worry. So I hold him closer, pick up his hand and kiss the tip of each finger, then the center of his palm, then place it over my heart, and let the quiet comfort of the TV lull me to sleep with his arms wrapped around me.
Chapter 22
Landry’s office on the forty-second floor doesn’t necessarily rank as a safe space for me. I mean, granted, I’ve never actually been invited this high up in the Soundbites office before—they like to keep me in the basement in the damp, hot-dog-generated humidity—but I still have a rising level of apprehension as the elevator climbs the floors.
Which is ridiculous. Landry got it, she understood where I was coming from when we talked at the fundraiser, even if William wasn’t on the same page. If nothing else, this is a strategic planning meeting on how to pivot our refreshed engagement toward other avenues. I shouldn’t be stressed, I should be relieved she’s actually willing to talk things out further and come to an even firmer understanding. But dread still trickles through me as I step off the elevator and give Landry’s assistant my name. There’s something about the twitch of his lips, theflash of recognition in his eyes as he types on his computer—alerting Landry of my arrival—that sets my teeth on edge.
I sit in one of the straight-back chairs outside of the executive suites, leg jiggling as the seconds tick by.
“Can I get you any water or coffee?” the assistant asks without looking at me, making it very apparent that saying yes isn’t actually an option.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Another stretch of silence.
“You’ve become quite the Soundbites celebrity, huh?” he says, still not bothering to look away from his computer screen. His voice is as smooth and cutting as a razor.
“Um, that’s definitely overstating things, but I’ve had a few recent hits on my segment.” I can’t tell if he’s a loud breather or if he just laughed at me.
He finally looks at me, eyes flicking down my body in lengthy appraisal. His smile makes me think he’s tasted human flesh and didn’t hate it. “I mean, after this morning’s big reveal, I don’t think I am overstating things.”
I stare at him blankly. “This morning’s what?”
He tilts his head, smile growing. The computer dings, and he doesn’t bother to look at the screen. “Landry will see you now.”
“What did you mean by that?” I say, standing up on shaky legs. He ignores me, slipping in AirPods and turning back to his work. I have the urgent desire to dart to the bathroom, scour my phone for whatever the hell he’s alluding to. But I can’t. I’m on such thin ice with Landry and William, I can’t start chipping at it by making them wait.
With an unsteady hand, I knock gently on the door thenlet myself into her office. Landry doesn’t say anything when I step inside or bother to look up as I take the seat in front of her. I wonder if her assistant learned the trick from her or vice versa. William leans against the bookshelves behind her desk, suit jacket slung on one of the chairs, the sleeves of his crisp, white button-down rolled up to his elbows. He sweeps an unimpressed glance up my body, toying with the end of his black tie.
“Good morning,” I say, trying to make my voice pleasant. It cracks like I swallowed a hot pepper.
Landry’s gaze finally flicks up to mine. She stares at me, expression as impassive as her son’s. With a slow, assured movement, she leans back in her chair, steepling her fingers in front of her. The only sound in the room is the ticking of her expensive-looking wall clock as the Doughrights pin me with their dark eyes.
When it becomes so tense my skin starts to crawl, I clear my throat. “Is now still a good time to talk?”
William scoffs, adjusting his fancy watch, and my heart rabbits in my chest.
Landry’s nod is slow and self-possessed. “I was giving you an opportunity to explain yourself first.”
“I’m sorry?”
Her eyebrows rise mockingly, and she shares a look with William. “That’s a start, I suppose. Although I would have delivered it with a bit more conviction and less of a question if I were in your position.”
“My position?” I’m sweating now, palms damp and sticky as I grip the edges of the chair.
“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
I stare at her with wide, terrified eyes, trying to formulate a sentence while my throat feels too tight and tongue too swollen to get words out. “I’m… I’m a bit confused on what’s happening here.”
Landry’s look is a combination of bored and surly, and she rubs her fingers along her forehead with a sigh.
“Allow me to clarify things for you, Miss Kitt,” William says, pushing away from the shelves and planting his palms on the large desk, leaning toward me. “You have this thing called a job. I have one too. And my job is to be your boss. Are you keeping up with me so far?”
I’m horrified to feel myself nodding.
“Good. I was worried even that would be too complex for you.” His smile is cold. “Your job is, in essence, to make money for this company. And the best way you can do that is dress in your trendy little clothes and make your sarcastic little comments and shove hot dogs in your mouth to attract male viewers. Your job is also to do as I tell you. And I told you to see this thing through with Rylie Cooper. Why? To make this company money. Still with me?”
The force of his calm anger sucks the air from the room, and I feel lightheaded with how tight my breaths are.
