CHAPTER SIX
ELISE
ONE BIRTHDAY WEEKEND in St. Martin later, I was back at Edge Records with the invisible clock ticking down on my time as Nathan Edge’s assistant.
There was a small, naive part of me that thought maybe Nathan would contact me over the weekend. Maybe he’d call. Maybe he’d respond to my email notice with more than a bland “Received.” Maybe he’d show up at my resort like a scene out of a rom-com, demanding I take back what I said.
But no. Silence.
Instead, I got three days of sun, sand, and sangria with my best friend, and now I was back.
My heels clicked softly against the polished floor as I approached my desk on Monday morning, Nathan’s coffee mug in hand, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest. The last time I’d seen Nathan, I told him I was resigning and I had no idea how he was going to act.
I waited, brushing invisible wrinkles off my skirt, until the sharp sound of the elevator door opening announced his arrival.
Nathan stepped into the room, his presence immediately commanding attention, as it always did.
He said nothing, acknowledged no one as I followed him into his office, falling seamlessly into my role, the one I’d mastered over the last three years.
“Morning,” I said, placing the mug carefully on his desk.
He glanced up, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he studied me. “Well, well,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “I’m surprised you decided to return.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes, forcing my face into its usual professional mask. “Of course,” I said evenly, letting the warmth in my voice stay strictly business. “I wouldn’t leave you without giving you time to find a replacement.”
The brief exchange left the air between us charged, a careful dance of words we’d perfected over the years. Underneath it all, the weight of my notice remained. One month, and then this routine, this office, him, it would all end.
“I’ll leave you in charge of putting an ad out that I’ll be needing a replacement, as well as the interviews. I’ll meet with the top three candidates and interview them before I make my decision.” Nathan informed me.
“Okay. Would you like for me to read to you your schedule for today, sir?” I replied.
“No need. I took a look at it on the way up here.” Nathan stated.
I nod my head once. “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need, I’ll be at my desk.”
“There is one more thing,” Nathan called out just before I could turn to leave. “Mckenna Lane. I assume you know her.”
“Of course. She’s the first artist your father signed to Edge Records.” I answered, smoothly.
“That’s right. She’s retiring at the end of next month and I want you to organize a farewell event. It needs to reflect her legacy and this company.”
I tensed up at the news. “You want me to plan it?”
Nathan leaned back in his seat. “Don’t think you can handle it?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I retorted quickly. “It’s just you usually have the publicity team handle something like that.”
“PR will handle press. But I want you overseeing everything else,” he paused. “Understood?”
“Understood.” I gave him a parting smile before I turned and headed for the door.
“Elise?”
I looked over my shoulder at my name being called. Nathan reached out and took up the cup of coffee I had placed on his desk. “Thank you for the coffee.”
***
I LEANED BACK in my chair, my shoulders tight and aching.
I’d spent the last few hours buried in party logistics for McKenna Lane’s farewell celebration, Nathan’s newest assignment for me, handed out the moment I returned.
It sort of felt like a punishment for quitting seeing how the amount of things I needed to do to make sure this party went off without a hitch was endless.
But I didn’t mind since the amount of work served as a distraction from my avoidance of signing up to audition for Titan’s In My Head Tour.
Titan was one of the biggest names in R that I wasn’t good enough to tour the world with one of the greatest performers of my generation and that I was silly enough to think that I could and in the end, I’d agree with the voice in my head, put my laptop away, and focused on the task at hand.
McKenna's farewell celebration was high-stakes. McKenna was a legend as the first artist Xavier Edge ever signed and the woman who helped build this empire. She was royalty. The fact that Nathan trusted me with planning her farewell party should have flattered me, but all I could feel was wary.
Every time I started to relax, I’d remembered the last three years of impossible hours, the constant nitpicking, and the fact that Nathan had never once, not once, looked at me like a human being or said thank you.
The only reason I stayed as long as I did was because I got paid double than what most assistants usually made and I knew how lucky I was to have landed this position.
Now he was suddenly polite? Calm? Thanking me? Assigning meaningful projects?
It felt like a setup. Like he had a camera crew stashed behind the printer waiting to catch my shocked face for his personal amusement.
Just as I was debating whether to get up and stretch my legs, I felt a tap on my desk.
“How’s everything going so far?” Nathan asked, almost politely.
“Pretty good,” I said, trying to get my voice under control. “Catering, decorator, performers. All chosen. Guest list’s the only thing left.”
He nodded. “Sounds like you’re on top of everything. Good job.”
I think my brain short-circuited. Did Nathan Edge just give me a compliment? “T-thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled.
Silence fell between us for a moment until an audible grumble pierced the room. A fresh sheen of embarrassment coated my skin at the realization that the sound came from me, more specifically my stomach.
God, when was the last time I had something to eat?
Nathan’s lips curved into a slow, teasing grin, his gaze dropping pointedly to my stomach before flicking back to my face.
“Was that you?” he asked, feigning disbelief. “I thought maybe the building’s pipes were acting up again. Should I call maintenance?”
My face burned as I sat up straighter, crossing my arms over my stomach in an effort to shield myself from the humiliation. “Very funny.”
He leaned casually against my desk with his arms folded, his grin widening. “When’s the last time you ate? Or do you just run on stubbornness now?”
“Stubbornness and a Bakery Bliss latte,” I shot back, trying to maintain my composure.
“Impressive combo,” he said. “Dangerous, though. Lucky for you, I ordered dinner. Wrap up here. You can finish the rest tomorrow.”
I blinked again, confused. Dinner? Was this a meeting?
“Oh, no. It’s okay,” I said quickly. “I’ve still got—”
“I wasn’t asking, Elise.”
The way he said it wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t commanding. But it didn’t give me a choice either. I just sat there, stunned, watching him walk back toward his office. Was I being bribed? Was he trying to guilt-trip me into staying?
I stared at the spot he’d disappeared into for a long moment before I finally straightened in my seat, the room quiet aside from my manicured nails working on the keyboard and mouse as I saved my work before I powered down my desktop.
I grabbed my purse, cellphone, and made my way to his office, unease curling tight in my stomach.
I knocked once.
Waited.
Five seconds later the door opened and I was standing face to face with Nathan. He had removed his jacket and tie since I last saw him, but was otherwise still dressed in the same crisp white shirt and dark tailored-made slacks from this morning.
“Hi.”
Nathan’s lips curved upward in the faintest of smiles. “Hi. Come on in.” He stepped back and gave me room to enter.
My eyes scanned his office, half expecting to see Ashton Kutcher and his camera crew.
It was the only explanation I could think of as to why Nathan seemed adamant about me having dinner with him when he’s gone out of his way to spend as little time with me as possible these last few years.
Instead, his office looked the same as it always did, which was meticulously organized and impossibly sleek.
Floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk showcased the city skyline, the lights shimmering like tiny diamonds against the night sky.
On the far wall, there were framed photographs of Nathan with music legends and iconic artists, silent reminders of his influence and success.
The faint scent of cedar lingered in the air, mingling with a subtle trace of Nathan’s cologne which was crisp and expensive.
The space was professional, commanding, and undeniably Nathan.
A sleek glass desk sat near the center, its surface free of clutter except for a single laptop and two In-N-Out Burgers containers.
I walked over to the desk and began to split up the food between the two of us, making sure to prepare Nathan’s first like I always did whenever we ate together. Suddenly, Nathan’s voice caused me to halt.
“Stop.”
My hand paused in the act of setting the plastic utensils on the paper napkin. “Mr. Edge?”
“I said stop. I didn’t invite you here to serve me. This isn’t work. It’s us.” He hesitated on that word like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say it. “So, for once, just sit. Have dinner with me.”
Us? What even was that?
The word hit me harder than it should have, catching somewhere in my chest and throwing everything slightly off balance. I didn’t know what to do with it.
Still, I moved to the opposite chair and sat slowly.
“Thanks,” I said as I took a fry. “I didn’t realize I missed lunch.”
“You and me both.” Nathan replied, and it just dawned on me that he hadn’t stopped by my desk today and asked me to go get his lunch.