Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
AVA
I should probably tell you that I’ve seen those eyes before. Three times in person, not that I’m counting, and more times than I can remember on a computer screen when we have our monthly editorial board meetings. And let’s face it, they’re pretty eyes if you like that kind of thing. Which I don’t.
Sure, I’ve seen some women go a little weak when he lands his gaze on them. And I’ve heard them talk about his old-fashioned movie star handsomeness. But I’ve checked and his nose has a bump, and his mouth is always pressed together like he disapproves of everybody and everything.
Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, right?
He’s not wearing a tie, and the white of his shirt is almost blinding. It’s unbuttoned at the neck, and I can see just a hint of chest hair.
On paper, Myles Salinger is my equal. He’s the commissioning editor for the children’s publishing department of Mediatech in New York, and I’m commissioning editor here at Smith and Carson. But everything about his demeanor tells me he thinks he’s way above me.
I first met him in New York about two months after the takeover when Richard and I flew in for a two-day meeting to discuss our future plans for Dandy. Once Jean-Baptiste accepted that Dandy the Lion was staying in Charleston with us, he wanted to know the direction we planned to take him in.
I had walked into the boardroom ahead of Richard, and in the corner were three men. Two of them were young, laughing about something. The third had his impressively broad back to me.
But it wasn’t the men that caught my eye so much as what they’d drawn on the whiteboard. An uncanny likeness of Dandy the Lion bent over and being… um… taken from behind by Mediatech’s biggest selling character, The Great Bear Endo.
We take great care with Dandy’s image at Smith and Carson.
We’re not quite at Disney standards, but he’s beloved by children and their parents everywhere, and that’s not by accident.
We don’t license him for things like cereals or snacks, and we don’t let his image be reproduced without our direct consent.
And we certainly don’t let our art team draw a picture of him being taken from behind on a whiteboard for all to see.
“What the hell is that?” I asked. Richard was far enough behind me that he hadn’t seen what I had. “If you don’t get that monstrosity off the board right now, I’ll be talking to your bosses.”
All three faces swung around to look at me. But only one of them looked as furious as I felt. One of the younger guys swallowed hard. “He is our boss,” he said tremulously, pointing at the tall man in the suit.
The one with the most striking eyes I’d ever seen.
“Then he should know better,” I told them. “It’s disgusting. If you don’t know how to protect your assets, you shouldn’t be working for a publishing company. Especially not a children’s publishing company.”
Pretty eyes said nothing. Just scowled at me. I scowled right back as I walked into the room and grabbed a bottle of water while they scrubbed the pornographic image off the whiteboard.
And that was that. Since then, Myles hasn’t stopped scowling at me. And I’ve been frowning right back. We tolerate each other, but we certainly don’t like each other. And no matter how much I try, I can’t be nice to him.
He glances at his laptop screen. “I’ll call you back,” he says to whoever he’s on a video call with and hits the end key before looking back at me.
“Ava,” he says, sounding almost bored. “You’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.”
“I’ve been on vacation.” He waves his hand like he’s not interested, so I change the subject. “Where’s Richard?”
“Richard no longer works for Mediatech.”
Oh.
OH!
My legs lose all the strength in them. I reach behind me to find a chair to sit down in, then realize I’m still standing in the doorway of the office and the only thing behind me is air.
I stop reaching and curl my fingers around the door jamb.
“What happened?” I ask. “Why doesn’t he work here anymore? ”
“He and Jean-Baptiste agreed to part ways.” Myles stands and walks around to the front of the desk, his eyes still glued to mine. He’s even taller than I remember. At least six foot three. I’d feel intimidated if I wasn’t…
Okay, I feel intimidated. I have to crane my neck to look up at him.
“Is Eleanor all right?” I ask.
His brows furrow. “Who’s Eleanor?”
“Richard’s wife.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, especially with the severance Jean-Baptiste gave him.” Myles looks at me carefully for a moment. “Maybe you can answer a question for me,” he suggests. There’s no ease to his tone. No kindness. My hackles rise.
“What kind of question?”
“You’re in charge of the IT system here, right?”
“Well, kind of. I liaise with the call center and sign off on the support contract.”
“And security? The firewall?” He doesn’t blink. Not once. That has to be painful, right?
“Yes,” I tell him. “I deal with that, too.”
He slowly nods. “So now we know who’s responsible for losing Mediatech a hundred thousand dollars.”
“It was mayhem,” Catherine tells me. She’s the head of production for Smith and Carson, and one of my closest friends in the office. “Richard clicked on a link in a phishing email and about an hour later everything went to shit.”
Ryan, the sales and marketing manager, and the biggest gossip in the office, continues, “The next day, Myles arrived with a huge entourage of people. They pushed all of us off our desks and started uploading a billion patches to update the security system. Then we all got called into the boardroom and told that Richard’s taking early retirement effective immediately.
And while they search for a new chief editor, Myles will be working from this office. ”
“Hasn’t he got better things to do?” I ask. He has his own books to publish, after all. And let’s face it, he doesn’t look at all happy to be here in Charleston.
“I can think of a few better things he could do,” Catherine wiggles her eyebrows and Ryan laughs. I roll my eyes, because seriously?
“It should be you sitting in Richard’s office,” Ryan says, glancing over at the closed door. “Not him.”
“I wouldn’t want to,” I tell them. “Richard knew that.” Sure, I’m ambitious, but there’s too much going on in my life right now. Not that I have time to think about that at the moment.
“So why didn’t any of you call me?” I ask, changing the subject. I’m kind of hurt that they didn’t. Or that Richard didn’t. We have a good working relationship. I’ve been to his house. I’ve played with his grandkids. I thought that meant something.
“Richard said we shouldn’t.” Catherine shrugs. “He insisted that you deserved a break and you were going to get one. There’s nothing you could have done anyway. As much as I hate to say it, Salinger has it all under control.”
“We’re getting MacBooks,” Ryan says, smiling happily. “Isn’t that cool?”
More people arrive and start to gather around my desk, helping themselves to the donuts I brought in.
Eventually, somebody remembers to ask about my vacation and I’m in the middle of describing Gaudi’s La Sagrada Família church in Barcelona to them when the chief editor’s office door flies open and Myles Salinger is standing there, his huge frame taking up most of the doorway.
His lips are pressed tightly together as he looks at my desk and all the people sitting around eating donuts on it.
“What’s going on?” He blinks.
“I was just…” I try not to roll my eyes. “Giving people donuts.”
I notice half of them have already slunk away. Traitors.
He glances at his watch, his shirt sleeve rising to reveal a strong forearm and an oversized silver Rolex. “Is my watch wrong?” he asks.
I have no idea, I want to tell him, but dammit, he’s not ruining my day. “What time does it say?” I ask sweetly.
He ignores me completely. “Does Mediatech pay you to sit around and eat donuts?”
“No.”
“Then maybe you should all get on with your work and leave the gossiping until after hours.”
He whips around and walks back into the office, slamming the door closed behind him.
“Miserable asshole,” I mutter.
“Sexy miserable asshole,” Catherine corrects me.
“He is,” Luella, her assistant says, dreamily. “He can shout at me any time.”
MYLES
“They smell of what?” My brother, Liam, starts to laugh.
“I’m not saying it again,” I tell him, my voice low and tired because it’s been a hell of a couple of weeks. I didn’t want to come here, I don’t want to still be here, and I don’t want to deal with the people in this office. But Jean-Baptiste insisted so here I am.
The sooner I get back to New York the better.
“Cum. You said they smell of cum.”
“They do,” I tell him. “Seriously.”
“How can trees smell like jizz?” he asks me, sounding interested. Liam is my younger brother by a year. He lives in New York too, and we spend a lot of time together there.
“I’ve no idea how they can smell like that.
They just do.” And I have to walk past the damn things every day because there’s no parking lot for this damn office building.
I just have to find a space on the road, no matter how far away it is, and park there.
It’s like going back in time a few centuries coming to Charleston.
Strangers actually smile at you, and it isn’t a ruse to steal your wallet or phone. It’s disconcerting.
“Okay… well, according to Google it must be a Callery Pear tree,” Liam tells me. “It’s the blossom that smells. The good news is, you should only have to deal with it for a few more weeks.”
“Lucky me,” I say. But I don’t feel very lucky right now.
Haven’t felt lucky since Jean-Baptiste demanded that I come to Charleston to find out what the hell was going on at Smith and Carson.
I’d asked how long it would take and he looked at me pointedly and said, “That’s up to you.
I want a report on how we can turn things around there. ”
Because the truth is, even with Dandy the Lion as their anchor series, Smith and Carson is bleeding money. It’s driving Jean-Baptiste crazy, and he wants to either turn things around or close the place down. And when he gets an idea in his head, there’s no dissuading him.
So I’ll sort it out quietly then go back to what I was doing. And if I have to smell cum every time I get out of my car, so be it.
“So hey, isn’t this the day your nemesis is due back at work?” Liam changes the subject. It’s almost impossible to find a worse topic than jizz trees, yet he’s somehow managed it.
He should get a medal or something.
“Her name’s Ava. And yes, she’s back at work.
” Completely unfunny story. Ava Quinn – the commissioning editor of Smith and Carson – absolutely hates me.
Has since the day we first met. And yeah, I’m not her biggest fan either.
She lectured two of our most talented art interns, and one of them almost quit on the spot.
It took me an hour to persuade him otherwise.
I had it under control. I had been explaining to them why we don’t ever make lewd drawings of our characters, and she started shouting at them.
There was no need for that, I had it handled.
And it’s pissed me off that ever since she’s done nothing but been rude.
Especially when everybody insists she’s the nicest person at Smith and Carson. Ha! I beg to differ.
She’s the main reason I didn’t want to come here. I knew she’d be a pain in my ass. It’s understandable. If she got brought in over me in New York I’d be pissed as hell.
“It’s okay,” Jean-Baptiste said when I pointed this out. “You won’t be above her. You’ll both work for me.”
“And how exactly is that going to work since I’ll be running the office?” I asked him.
He just shrugged. “You’ll make it work, Myles. You always do.”
And yes, I will, because he’s right. I don’t like to be defeated by anything, especially not by somebody who hates my guts. But the sooner we get a replacement for Richard and I can go back to New York, the better.
“Anyway, that’s not why I’m calling,” Liam says. “Dad says you’re not coming to his vow renewal.”
“That’s right, I don’t have time.”
“But everybody’s going to be there. You have to go.” Liam sounds almost pouty. “Come on, man, we’ll have a blast. Play some football, go swimming in the lake. Dad’s talking about reinstating the Salinger Olympics.” He clears his throat. “Even mom’s going.”
“I’m busy,” I say in a tone that invites no response. Just because my mother, along with my father’s second wife, still thinks the sun shines out of his ass, doesn’t mean that I do.
“I need to go,” I tell him, softening my voice because Liam is the best kind of brother. “I have a business to run and so do you.”
He disconnects and I pull my laptop screen back up, trying to find the files for last month’s financial returns, but the document retention system in this place is about as good as its security. Sighing, I stand up and stride to the door, whipping it open and calling out to her.
“Ava Quinn, come to my office. Now.”