Chapter 29
twenty-nine
. . .
Brinkley
“I need this to go well,” I whispered as we rode the elevator up to the top floor.
We’d stayed at Lincoln’s penthouse apartment in the city last night.
He said he wasn’t going to put it on the market until we knew where I’d be living.
If I took the job here, I’d stay at his place, and we’d travel back and forth.
“You have nothing to worry about. You have a story they want. A writing style that they’ve already said they were impressed by.
You already have a great offer from Football Live, and you have another interview coming up.
The ball is in your court. You don’t need them, baby. They’d be lucky to have you.”
“I know, but I want this one. I’ve dreamed of working here since I was a teenager.”
He nodded. “Just hear them out, and don’t settle for less than you deserve.”
“You’d like them to make me a crappy offer, wouldn’t you?” My voice was all tease, but I could tell it had rubbed him wrong.
“I want this for you, as long as it’s right. I’ve told you that we’ll make it work, no matter what happens.”
“I was kidding. But obviously, it would be easier for you if I just came to New York with you.” I shrugged. “I wish they were located out there.”
“Whatever it is, you know that I support you.”
“I know.” I remained a few feet from him in the elevator. “We have to keep things professional right now, but I’ll be kissing you real hard in an hour.”
“Don’t tease me, sweetheart.” He raised a brow just as the doors opened, and he motioned for me to step off first.
I wore my favorite black pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a black suit coat. My hair was pulled into a neat chignon, and I’d changed shoes three times because I wanted everything to be perfect. I’d settled on nude stilettos. I wanted this so badly I could taste it.
I didn’t know why they’d asked Lincoln to come.
I didn’t want to make it a big deal because he’d seemed uncomfortable when I’d told him.
But I had written a story about him, and they wanted it.
That was part of the deal. I’d never worked with a magazine of this caliber, so as far as I knew, this could be perfectly standard to bring a client along.
“You must be Brinkley Reynolds.” The receptionist was in her mid-thirties, tall with blonde hair, and she had a friendly smile. Her eyes moved to the handsome man beside me. “And you’re Lincoln Hendrix. I’m a huge fan.”
I chuckled when Lincoln scowled before quickly forcing a smile. He didn’t want the attention to be on himself today because he knew how much this day meant to me. The woman led us down a hallway and knocked on the door before we stepped into a large conference room.
There were three men in suits who came around the table and approached Lincoln first. They all shook his hand and stood there gaping at him.
I sensed his discomfort immediately. I shook it off.
They ran a sports magazine, and he was an icon on the field.
It was fair that they were excited to meet him.
I wasn’t going to let anything ruin this day.
“This is the star of the show, Brinkley Reynolds,” he said, holding his hand out to me.
They shifted their attention my way and made introductions. Lou Colson was the president and the man I’d been negotiating with. Darrel Fisher was their chief legal, and Steve Monty was the managing editor. We settled around the big table with all three men on one side and Lincoln and me on another.
“The story you wrote was one of the best I’ve read in a very long time,” Lou said, and my heart raced. He was a very powerful man in the industry, so a compliment from him was as good as it gets in my world.
“Thank you. That means so much to me,” I said, trying to keep my tone even as the nerves were setting in.
You’ve got this. Shake it off.
Lincoln glanced at me, and I saw the pride there.
“And finally allowing fans to get to know a little more about you, Lincoln, is going to have the magazine selling off the racks.” He turned his attention to my boyfriend. “Obviously, you know we want this story and any future stories that you’re willing to let Ms. Reynolds write about you.”
Future stories? We had never discussed any articles with Lincoln in the future.
Lincoln squared his shoulders. “This is the story. She’ll be moving on to other athletes, I presume.”
I could feel the tension radiating from him, and it was time to speak up. This was an interview, and I needed to sell myself.
“I wrote the article on Breen Lockhart that I forwarded to you, as well, and I’m open to any interviews that you would want to set up for me.
I’m also open to getting out in the field and covering games and meeting athletes.
” I paused and sucked in a breath because I desperately wanted to prove that I could do this job.
“I’ve wanted to work for this magazine for as long as I can remember.
I’ll do whatever it takes to be the best at my craft. I promise I won’t let you down.”
Lincoln’s hand found my thigh beneath the table, and I knew he was trying to comfort me.
“That’s great to hear, Bailey,” Lou said. “We’re interested in what Mr. Hendrix is willing to do beyond this current story that you’ve written. Maybe he’d agree to give you an exclusive interview once or twice a season?”
What the hell? Did he really just call me by the wrong name?
“Her name is Brinkley, not Bailey,” Lincoln hissed, and I knew that he was pissed off with the direction this was going. I needed to turn this around.
“Right. Please forgive me,” he said. “We’d be willing to buy whatever articles Brinkley writes about you moving forward, and we can look into a permanent position down the road.”
Why were they only talking to him? This was my interview. My hands fisted on the table, digging my nails into my palms to remind myself to keep it together.
“I thought you were interviewing me for a full-time position today? That’s what we spoke about on the phone and in our emails,” I said, raising a brow as I looked Lou Colson right in the eyes.
“Correct. It’s a conversation that we’re starting, pending what Mr. Hendrix has planned regarding future articles with you.”
“Come on, gentlemen, what exactly are we here for? Let’s shoot it straight because, at this point, you’ve wasted her fucking time and mine.”
“Lincoln,” I said under my breath as I met his gaze. “I’ve got this.”
Because we both knew what we were here for now.
They were using me to get to him.
They had no interest in me.
“So, what exactly is this? You just wanted to get Lincoln here?”
“She has a gift, no doubt about it. We’re interested in offering her a future position pending what you can commit to.
This story will put her on the map, and that’s because it’s about you.
” He directed his answer to my boyfriend, speaking as if I wasn’t sitting right here. As if I hadn’t just spoken.
My mind was spinning. This was a complete disaster.
You will not get pushed around by a bunch of pretentious pricks.
“Is there a job beyond interviewing Lincoln Hendrix?” That was the million-dollar question at this point.
“We’d like to focus on Lincoln for now.”
“Fuck this. You’re yanking her fucking chain, and it’s a shitty thing to do.” Lincoln pushed to his feet and turned to face me. “Come on. This isn’t happening.”
My blood was boiling because these men were assholes, but I could handle them. I didn’t need my boyfriend to speak for me.
“I’ve got this.” I gave him a hard look, but the truth was… I didn’t have this. It had gone from bad to worse.
“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing to work out here. They’re using you to get to me. And I won’t allow it.” He offered me his hand, and I took it. My chest was pounding so hard I could hear my pulse in my ears.
“Mr. Hendrix, I assure you that we’re interested in offering her a position down the road.”
Lincoln didn’t respond, and they made no attempt to speak to me.
I whipped around, feeling a lump form in my throat, but thankfully, my anger won out over the sadness threatening to erupt. I pointed my finger right at Lou Colson. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Calling me here when you had no interest in hiring me.”
“That’s not the case. Why don’t we talk this over?” he said, but Lincoln and I were moving already.
He led me down the hallway to the elevator and ushered me inside. He hit the button to the lobby, and I just stared at him in disbelief.
How had this gone so wrong?
Lincoln moved closer, but I put my hands up.
“Don’t,” I said as I covered my mouth with my hand to hold back the sobs.
The tears were so heavy that I blinked several times, desperate to keep it together.
I didn’t want him to comfort me right now.
I couldn’t think straight at the moment, and if he touched me, I’d fall apart.
When the doors opened, I held my head high and walked through the lobby.
We made our way to the parking garage, not saying a word. He opened the passenger door, and I slipped inside.
We’d planned to stay in the city tonight, as he was flying out to New York in the morning. We were going to celebrate over dinner and come up with a plan.
I’d assumed I’d be thinking over the job offer and meeting with them again tomorrow to sign my contract.
Lou Colson had made it clear in our phone calls and emails that they would be offering me a contract to coincide with me allowing them to print the story about Lincoln.
This was supposed to be the day I’d dreamt about for years, but instead, it was a complete nightmare.
I was mortified and humiliated.
They had completely used me. They weren’t interested in hiring me at all.
Lincoln pulled into the underground parking beneath his building. “Look at me.”
I turned to face him. The tears had been falling since we’d gotten in the car, and I was sure my eyes were red and swollen by now. I wasn’t big on falling apart, but the disappointment had set in, and there was no stopping it.