The Marriage Rival

I drum my fingers against the table at his overdramatic reference toward Haden. It’s never bothered me before, usually finding him rather comical. But lately, Clint gets on my nerves.

“Well, tell him I’m busy.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s my boss, and I have to follow orders.”

“No,” I remind him, sternly. “I’m your direct boss, and I’m telling you to tell him I’m busy.”

Clint slips his hands into his pant pockets, frowning. “Look, Pres, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to be piggy in the middle.”

“You’re not the piggy in the middle. You report to me, end of story, and I’m busy. So, tell him I’ll see him later when time permits.”

Clint leaves my office, not saying another word.

I expect Hade

n to storm into my office at any minute, but he doesn’t attempt to call me. It’s very unlike him, and so with curiosity, I take my mug and wander to the kitchen to grab a coffee. On the way back, I mosey past his office. It’s empty. Almost relieved I don’t have to face the wrath of his egotistical outburst, I decide to go speak to one of our junior editors to discuss something she’s working on when I stroll past Noah’s office. Haden is sitting inside, his back facing me, and the two of them appear to be on a call. Noah’s eyes dart toward where I stand, then quickly back to Haden. He throws a pen at him, prompting Haden to turn around.

Haden’s eyes gaze at me yet quickly shift back onto Noah. Despite the tension between us, a simple stare can still make me weak in the knees. I can’t ignore how he makes me feel, yet I force myself to shut it down because it’s always me who ends up sacrificing more than I should, and a simple stare can’t erase the resentment I feel toward him.

Unsure whether or not I should interrupt since the two of them look suspicious, I decide it isn’t worth my energy. If it doesn’t involve me, I shouldn’t care. I retreat back to my office, sending Sandy a text.

Me: You landed yet? I can pick you up from Burbank. I need a break from the madness.

There’s no response, and I assume she’s still in the air. Thirty minutes later, I get a text.

Sandy: Just landed. Sweet, I’ll meet you at the taxi stand.

I grab my phone and purse, locking my computer before yelling out to Clint that I’m going to pick Sandy up from the airport. He waves his hand in the air, distracted by a document on his screen.

Making my way to the lobby, I press the button, waiting patiently before the doors open. Inside, I press basement before checking my phone. The doors begin to close only to stop abruptly with a hand. The same hand which had touched my body in ways no one else has.

Haden enters the lift, standing at the opposite side against the wall with his hands pressed firmly on the railing. Behind his glasses, his eyes bore into me, silent yet intimidating at the same time. “Were you going to tell me you were leaving during work hours?”

I quickly respond to Sandy’s text, telling her I might be ten minutes later than I anticipated. Haden isn’t one to let things slide so easily.

“Not really,” I deadpan. “You were busy with Noah. It would have been rude to interrupt, and I need to clear my head. A short drive to pick up a colleague is no big deal.”

Haden appears calm, but beneath the surface, he is seething. I can tell by the way he tightens his grip on the railing, his knuckles almost stark white, to how his lips draw back in a snarl.

“A car service would have sufficed. Or a cab,” he mutters. “Even a bus.”

“Perhaps you may think it’s okay to treat your employees that way. It might be why they loathe you and respect me.”

With a hard smile, he bows his head gazing at the floor before glancing up, trying to antagonize me again with his stare.

“Perhaps I’m not making myself clear.” He moves closer, almost pinning me against the wall. “I’m the boss. I make the decisions about what happens under my watch. Don’t forget that.”

The doors ping open to the basement, and with his body so close, the yearning I have for him is compromised by the need to slip into the car and get to the airport.

“You’re right, I forgot it’s all about you.” I push his arm out of the way and begin walking to the car, pressing my key to unlock the doors. The sound echoes in the parking lot. “But, hey, I guess, if I’m that bad of an employee, you could fire me. I’m sure there are other publishing houses desperate to get their hands on your wife.”

The smirk on his face disappears in a flash. I’ve struck a nerve. I have been head-hunted in the past from competitors Haden loathes. At a few book cons, they have even gone as far as to try and ask me out to dinner. If there’s any weakness Haden carries, me working for someone else is one of them.

Sitting in the car, I take a deep breath, adjusting the rearview mirror. My eyes lift to see behind me. He is no longer there.