Chapter 24 – pippa
PIPPA
Instead of the usual buzz of voices in the Belladonna offices, I’m met with complete silence when the doors swing open.
Other than me, Ingrid is the only other person in the office.
No one else is enough of a workaholic to come in the day after Christmas, and nobody but me is enough of a pushover to run over the minute Ingrid calls.
Not that I have that much else to do, other than let my stepbrother toss me on his bed and fuck me until we both collapse from exhaustion. And as much as I love my job, I’d much rather be spending my Boxing Day riding Ryan’s face.
I push aside my fantasies for later. Right now, I have an editor to handle. I find Ingrid sitting in her office, staring intently at her computer like it holds the answers to the universe. I knock on the doorframe to announce myself.
“Merry Christmas, Ingrid.”
“Oh good! You made it,” Ingrid says. “I thought I was the only one who remembered we still have a magazine to publish.”
“We sure do.” Not that anyone’s going to be reading it today, when they could be shopping sales or eating cookies and watching shitty Christmas movies.
“But since it’s Christmas, I do have a present for you.”
“Really? That’s so sweet.” I wonder if I was supposed to get something for her, too. Our office did a small secret Santa exchange, but did Ingrid expect something extra, since she’s been giving me all these opportunities?
“Follow me,” she says crisply. She pushes to her feet and strides quickly out of her office and down the hallway. I trail behind her—she moves scary fast, even with her petite frame and five-inch heeled boots.
At the end of the hallway, she opens a door, gesturing for me to walk into an office. It’s in the other corner of the building, with wide windows looking out on the city. There’s a big desk set up with two computers, and a comfy-looking navy velvet couch in the corner.
“Here it is,” she says.
I look around the office for anything wrapped, but I don’t see anything. “I’m sorry, but what do you mean?
“This is your new office,” Ingrid says. “Merry Christmas.”
My eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Your 12 Dates series has been breaking traffic records for Belladonna,” she says. “So I thought it was time you had an office that gave you a little privacy so you could work.”
I shake my head in disbelief. It’s a far cry from my cramped, shared office. “This is amazing, Ingrid. I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.”
“You should know, the office comes with strings,” she says. “I’m planning on making you the new Head of Content for the Love and Relationships department.”
A smile breaks across my face, and a bubble of excitement rises in my chest. “You are? Really?”
Ingrid smiles back. “It’s a promotion, so it will come with a pay bump. I’ll talk with HR and have an official offer letter ready for you in a few days, but I hope you’ll accept.”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Yes, I want it.”
I hope I sound poised and professional, instead of the excited schoolkid I feel like.
I know my stepdad would tell me to play it coy and negotiate for more money, but honestly, I would want this even without the pay bump.
Being able to come up with my own articles instead of being assigned them is the kind of creative freedom I’ve been craving.
Plus, my head is already racing with ideas. Expanding our contributing writers to feature more articles on LGBTQ love stories, creating pages on the forum collaborative dating profile building, a dating horror story competition…
“I’m glad to hear that,” Ingrid says, looking at me fondly.
“I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently, but you’ve risen to the challenge every time.
You’re producing the kind of signature content we need at Belladonna, and you’re sparking real conversations in the forums. I reward people who do excellent work. ”
My cheeks heat with pleasure. Her praise means more to me than a new office or even a promotion ever could. It makes me feel like someone actually sees me and how hard I try to be the best at what I do.
Ingrid leans against the desk. “There’s one thing I wanted to bring up, while it’s just the two of us. It’s somewhat sensitive, so I hope you’re not offended. I saw a post in the Toronto Tea a couple days ago, and I wondered if it was true.”
“Is what true?” I ask, confused.
Ingrid arches her brows. “So you haven’t read it yet?”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I read the Tea sometimes, but I haven’t checked it out for a few weeks.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but a writer named Peppermint has made some troubling accusations that your stepbrother has some sort of—well, to use her phrasing, some ‘creepy crush’ on you,” Ingrid says awkwardly.
It feels like someone dropped a cannonball in my stomach. My whole body might collapse from the pressure of the blow.
“Peppermint says that you moved in with him while you needed an apartment, but that he might take advantage of the situation,” Ingrid continues.
“Since your stepbrother is, and these are her words, ‘known for sleeping with anything with two legs,’ she worries he’s not the type of guy to take no for an answer. ”
I want to scream from the unfairness of it.
Why’s my private life suddenly plastered all over the gossip blogs?
Whoever Peppermint is, she obviously knows nothing about Ryan and me.
Say what you want about him, but he would never force himself on a woman.
Plenty of girls have rejected him right to his face, and he’s always shrugged it off and moved on to the next one.
As for the “creepy crush”…well, it’s complicated.
The silence has stretched on for too long, but I don’t know how to explain this to Ingrid. I have to say something. “I’m so sorry. I’m mortified. I did move in with my stepbrother. And yes, he’s a player. But the rest of it—I—no. It’s just not true.”
“Really?” Ingrid’s mouth turns down, almost like she’s disappointed.
“I can write up an article explaining it’s not true, if that’s what you want.”
“No, no. Don’t do that.” She waves dismissively. “In fact, it’s probably best if you just let people believe what they want to believe. Because even if it were possibly a little bit true, readers would eat it up. They love scandal. Maybe you should even lean into it a little in your articles.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, mention his name, his reaction to your dates. It’ll add intrigue, which means more views. After all, everyone loves a taboo romance. Speaking of which, in your next 12 Dates article, I want some juicier details.”
“What?” I squeak.
“Romantically, they’re just a little…dry.
You never tell us if you’re attracted to the guys, or if they gave you a kiss goodnight.
No pressure to do anything, but if holding hands or a kiss happens naturally, I want you to write about it.
It just adds a little something extra, you know? Makes the series seem aspirational.”
Crap. If my dates keep going like they have been, she might as well be asking for the moon. Some of these guys haven’t been worth giving a handshake, let alone a kiss. Getting Ingrid that “something extra” might be the hardest assignment she’s given me yet.
Not to mention, having sex with Ryan has sent me reeling.
Things between us are just physical, but I’d be lying if I said they weren’t complicated.
He’s always going to be a part of my life, and I don’t know how it’ll feel when we decide to end things.
The bottom line is, with the amazing sex I’m having with Ryan, I don’t know how I feel about kissing another guy who will probably just be mediocre.
But how can I tell Ingrid no, when she just gave me a new office and a promotion? She’s put such a huge gesture of faith in me, so I can’t let her down yet.
“I’m on it,” I tell her. “No problem. I’ll make sure the next ones are juicy.”
“Good. I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” she says cheerily. “Well, I’m sure you want to get working in your new office. I’ll leave you to it.”
The door clicks shut behind Ingrid, and for a moment I just stand there, frozen in the middle of my shiny new office. I should be screaming. Dancing. Calling everyone I’ve ever met to brag.
Instead, I pull out my phone with numb fingers and type Toronto Tea Ryan Archer into the search bar.
The headline hits me first—loud and gleeful and wrong. The comments are even worse. Strangers dissecting my life like it’s a crime scene, arguing over whether I’m naive or complicit. Whether Ryan is a predator or just another rich asshole who also happens to be stupid hot.
My vision tunnels. I lock the screen before I can read any more, shoving the phone into my pocket like it burned me.
I silently count to ten. Just ten more second to wallow and then I will be excited about this.
When I hit ‘one’, I take a deep breath and take in the space with fresh eyes, finding a smile.
I deserve a goddamn victory dance after the month I’ve had. At the end of the day, all the terrible dates were worth it for the promotion. I shoot a quick text to Dad, trying to lean into the excitement before it fizzles out.
Pippa
Guess what? I got promoted!!
My editor was so happy with my 12 Dates of Christmas series, she made me Head of Content for Love and Relationships.
Dad
!!!! I’m so proud of you.
And sorry I haven’t called. Things got crazy on the site this month.
I can’t help the twinge of disappointment in my chest. I texted Dad a few times about doing our Christmas lunch. But I guess he’s still too busy to pick a date.
I shake it off. This Christmas has left me with enough to deal with.
The good: the promotion. The bad: that jerk, Peppermint. The complicated: everything happening with Ryan.
Well, I can only solve one problem at a time. Right now, that’s getting spicy content for Ingrid. I’m not sure I can rely on guys from Keepr for that. I’ll need to bring in a ringer. Swiping over to my text convo with Cat, I type out another text.
Pippa
Do you know anyone you could set me up with?