Page 4 of Big Boss
Without thinking about it any further, I tuck her carefully under one arm, as close to my body as possible to shield her from the bright glare of the flashing cameras, and guide her through the throng of reporters and photographers, pressing our way to the tall double doors that lead to my inner office.
I unlock them with my badge and as soon as they close behind us, the rumble of the crowd dies off. Thank goodness for expensive soundproofing.
Time to check in with Erica. I take a deep breath. “Hey, it’s okay. There’s nobody here except us, and I’ll make a call and have those people removed from the entryway, okay?”
I can feel her shaking against me, shivering like she’s freezing. But I’ve been there before, and I know it’s nerves, not the temperature, that’s got her trembling against me.
And I’m pretty sure I know what the problem is that led to the parade of paparazzi in my entryway—my last assistant. Crystal Lane. See how stupid I am? The woman had a stripper name, but I hired her anyway.
There is zero doubt in my mind that the horde of sleazy journalists and photographers outside are here all because I fired Crystal yesterday.
That’s how I ended up downstairs getting my own coffee this morning, which turned out to be Erica’s coffee. And all of that mess led to me inadvertently dragging the girl wearing the ugliest dress ever created onto an elevator and straight into the newest chapter of my life, an ongoing social media disaster.
She shoves hard against me, forcing my body away from hers. I don’t know what she had for breakfast, but she’s really scrappy for her youth and diminutive size. At least she’s not frozen like a photograph now.
“Get off me, you big creeper.” Her voice is still a little bit quivery, but if she’s mad at me, then she’s not panicking anymore, and that’s a good thing, right?
Her glasses are askew and her breathing is still a little too fast, but she seems steady enough on her feet that I go ahead and step back, giving her some space.
She crosses her arms and gives me another dose of that look that says she doesn’t give two craps about whatever line I’ve got ready. And I’m so used to people, especially women, falling all over themselves around me that it takes me by surprise.
“You sure you’re okay? Give me a few minutes and I’ll get some guards up here.” I reach for her shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze then grab the nearest phone and call down to the front desk.
“Yes. We have a security issue up here and I expect it to be cleared up immediately.” I pause, listening to the assurances of the head security officer. “I don’t care what your excuse is, but this needs to be fixed, yesterday. And I expect an escort for my guest as well.”
My eyes flick over to the girl in question, and she’s grabbed the coffee cup from earlier and is chugging it like we’re at a frat party. I can see it spilling down her chin, and the entire effect is, well, not cute.
“Guess you really did need the caffeine, huh?”
Her eyes flick to me, and if she could have lit me on fire with the power of her mind, I’d be a smoldering pile of bones. Yeah, she’s definitely feeling better.
“I’m officially late to my interview now. There is a zero percent chance that the Huss Galleries are going to hire me, so I’m at least going to finish what’s left ofmycoffee before I go out there and wade through whatever mess is going on in your foyer.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, Todd can be a bit of an asshole. I’ve arranged for a security guard to take you wherever you need to go, but if I were you, I might take a miss on that rather than show up late and have to deal with him sneering aggressively at you and then not giving you the job.”
Erica sighs and rumples her fingers through her hair, stirring it up and making it even crazier. “Fine. You’re probably right, even if you are a walking disaster.”
She finally stops fiddling with her poofy hair and stabs me with another needled glare.“Speaking of which, you want to fill me in on why an entire army of sleazy reporters was waiting in the lobby to ambush you? Or is this like a regular Tuesday for you?”
I sigh heavily. “It’s got to be my damn assistant. I fired her yesterday, and I’m almost certain that she’s the one who called every scummy journalist in town and told them to come after me with torches and pitchforks.”
My mobile rings, and I can see it’s my personal publicist and best friend, so I hold up one finger toward Erica and answer. “Tate.”
“It’s so bad. Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?” Jackson’s voice is loud and clear, but I feel like I’m having trouble keeping up with the conversation already and we just started. That’s what half a cup of coffee will get me, I guess.
“I don’t get it. But if you’re talking about the disaster in the press that’s coming your way, it’s got to be about Crystal. There’s no other explanation that makes any sense.”
He snorts. “Of course it’s about that horrible woman. She already made the circuit of every morning show she could wriggle her way onto and spilled actual human-looking tears, telling everyone how she was the victim of your evil, womanizing ways.”
I swear a blue streak, and Erica looks impressed. “I swear I never even looked at her like that. She was always a little flirty, but that’s just how women are with me.”
Erica snorts loudly.
“Most women, at least. But she was my employee. And you know I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Not anymore,” he agrees.
I sigh heavily. “Come on, Jackson. Don’t be like that. She was the one always touching me and getting in my space. I never made a move on her, and she hated me for it.”
