Page 21 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
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Back at the office, I sit at my desk, staring blankly at the proposal in front of me. The words are a jumbled mess, meaningless. All I can see is Hazel’s face, her smirk, the way her eyes narrowed just slightly when she delivered that line.
I grab my phone and dial Rachel.
“Yes, Mr. Callahan?” She answers promptly.
“Get me the campaign team lead. Now.”
There is a pause, then the line clicks over.
“Mr. Callahan, this is Simon. What can I do for you?”
“I want Hazel McKee replaced,” I say, my voice cold and even.
Simon hesitates. “I am sorry, sir. Replaced? May I ask why?”
“That is not your concern. Find someone else.”
He clears his throat nervously. “With all due respect, Mr. Callahan, Hazel is one of the top photographers in the country. Her work is unmatched. We specifically brought her on for this campaign because of her reputation for capturing authenticity. Replacing her would be…, difficult.”
I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white. “Difficult is not impossible. Do it.”
Simon sighs. “Sir, if I may - she is already under contract, and the campaign timeline is tight. We would be risking delays and compromising quality if we bring someone else in now.”
My jaw tightens. “But make sure she understands her role. I do not want any unnecessary interaction. Keep her out of my way.”
“Yes, sir,” Simon says, his tone cautious.
I hang up, tossing the phone onto the desk. It does not help. The frustration, the anger, the…, whatever this is, it does not go away.
The rest of the day crawls by in a haze of half-hearted work and simmering agitation. By the time evening rolls around, I have had enough of my own company. So, when Ethan, who just got back from his conference, texts me about meeting up at The Rustic Roost bar, I jump at the offer.
The bar is buzzing with its usual night crowd. The low hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter surround me as I sit in our usual corner booth. The place has not changed - dim lighting, the faint smell of bourbon and fried food, and a playlist that’s forever stuck in the early 2000s.
I am spinning the drink in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light, my thoughts far from the conversation at the table.
“So, a little birdie told me that Hazel McKee is back in town…. True?” Ethan asks, and my grip on the glass tightens.
I glance up at him.
“Yeah, she’s back.”
“And working for you?” Ethan adds, raising an eyebrow.
I set the glass down with a little more force than intended. “Yes, and?”
Matt exchanges a look with Logan before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You okay, man?”
“I’m more than okay,” I snap a little too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
They don’t buy it. Not for a second. The three of them exchange knowing looks, the kind that grates on my nerves.
Right. Because running into your ex after five years is totally no big deal.”
“Don’t,” I warn, my tone sharp enough to make him raise his hands in mock surrender.
Ethan shakes his head. “You forget who you are talking to. We were there when she left, Liam. We saw how it messed you up.”
