Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
CRESSIDA
I slept so peacefully last night.
It could’ve been the wine, or it could’ve been the steak. Hell, it could’ve even been the orgasm I gave myself after Soren left. I think it’s a combination of all three of them.
So, when he doesn’t respond to the email I sent this morning, requesting him to schedule time for our interview, I’m a little confused and a lot annoyed. I thought for sure he would reply with a time after having kissed me last night. But he hasn’t.
It’s near the end of the day, and I’m packing up to leave when another journalist pokes her head into my office and says, “He’s here.”
“Who?”
“Soren Nixon,” she whispers.
I blink in surprise at her words, a hint of nerves taking hold of me before I follow her into the hallway, and she points to my boss’s office, where I can see Soren smiling as my boss laughs at something he says.
“What is he doing in there?” I ask.
“I don’t know. He got here maybe ten minutes ago, and I only just heard, so I ran straight to you.”
I straighten my shoulders and head to Michael’s office. When I knock on the glass door, both of them turn to face me.
Michael waves me in and then stands when I enter. “Soren here was asking about you,” Michael informs me.
I look down at Soren, where he’s sitting smugly in a chair, his eyes already on me.
“Why?” I ask suspiciously.
“He has some freelance work. I told him you’d love to help.”
“I would?”
“He has an article that needs more work, and I, of course, offered up the services of my best journalist.” He waves to me.
Soren finally stands, his presence taking up the whole room. “I hear you’re the best,” Soren says.
“So it would seem,” I reply. “But I’m sure you can find someone else, conflict of interest and all.”
“With what?” It’s Soren who replies.
“My story, on you,” I throw at him, and the room goes silent at my words. He shows no sign of emotion. “So, I suggest you use someone else.”
“No, it will be you,” Soren answers.
“Is that—”
He cuts me off before I can say anything further. “Good. If you’ll meet me at my office tomorrow morning at nine sharp, that would be great.” He doesn’t say another word as he brushes past me on his way out, his hand touching my side, which I know was on purpose.
Michael and I are silent until the door shuts behind him. Turning, I see everyone in the office watching him go, and he doesn’t pay them a lick of attention.
“You should stop whatever you’re about to say,” Michael says as he sits back down, shaking his head.
“Why?”
He huffs out a breath. “Because he just bought this place.”
“He what?” I screech, clearly not having heard him right.
“Yes, he’s the new owner and our new boss.”
“So, what does that mean?” I sit in the same chair Soren did.
“For you, it means he’s requested that all stories go through him for approval first.”
“Just from me?” I ask, appalled by that one simple act. How dare he, just another egotistical male with more money than sense, trying to silence a woman. He needs control in every aspect of his life, except the one thing he can’t control, but he’s trying to: me.
“Yes, just you.”
“I wasn’t even aware we were up for sale.”
“Everything has a price,” he says tiredly. “Especially if you have as much money as that man does.”
How was he able to swoop in and buy the company so quickly and without much of a fight?
And why did he do it? Is he that worried about what I might find out about him?
I’m sure he’s good at covering his tracks, so he probably doesn’t even have anything to worry about.
Or maybe this is all just a game of manipulation and him proving a point that he’s always right and will win in every situation.
It makes me wonder what he does to people who prove him wrong. The thought of that sends a shiver down my spine. He probably kills them. Or more likely, has someone else do the job. While I know he likes to get his hands dirty in the ring, I can’t imagine him personally killing someone.
But I’ve been wrong about men before.
For example, my ex-husband. I thought Noah and I were still close, still friends. I didn’t think he would start seriously dating someone without telling me. So, finding out he got engaged and kept it from me was a shock.
I don’t care that he’s getting married again. Honestly, I hope they’re very happy together. But the fact that he hid the woman who will be my son’s stepmother sits uneasily in my stomach. And it seems that Soren knows more about her than I do, and that sits even worse.
Later that night, I call to check in on Oliver.
He tells me about all the fun he’s having, that he misses me, and how he can’t wait to see me.
Oliver has been such a blessing, and I thank God for him every single day.
He is literally the most perfect human. He is kind and caring, but he can be a little cutthroat when he wants to be, which I encourage because not everyone should be nice all the time.
The world needs people who say it how it is.
Noah isn’t like that, though. I think Oliver takes after him a little bit, as well, but I know he gets his spice from me.
As requested, I arrive at Soren’s office at nine o’clock on the dot. His assistant gives me a smile and tells me to go on in. When I push the door open, I find him sitting behind his desk, his sister seated across from him. I’m not sure if she knows who I am, but I know exactly who she is.
His gaze flicks to me before moving back to her.
He dismisses her, but she doesn’t move.
“Maya.”
“No, I quit,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.
“It’s been less than a week, Maya. You can’t quit.”
“Well, I did, so give me access to the money again.” He sighs and stares at her, annoyance written all over his face. I know that look; my sisters give it to me when I annoy them.
“That’s not happening. I’m not playing around, Maya.”
“Are you interested in that trashy-looking reporter at the door? You can see what she’s wearing, right? She’s only after you for your money.”
Surely, she isn’t talking about me.
Well, I suppose that’s the polite way of saying no to the interview. I’m not invested in Soren. Sure, the man knows how to use his tongue, but we’ve forgotten about that and moved past it like it never happened.
Soren’s eyes don’t leave his sister as he cuts her down. “Mind your fucking words in my office, Maya.”
Maya stands from her chair and leans over the desk. “You’re going to protect her over me?” she accuses.
I have no idea what she’s talking about.
What would Soren be protecting me from?
“No. I’ve told you and warned you, and you continue to not listen,” he replies.
She straightens, and her hand lands on her hip.
“You can’t give up on me, Soren. We only have each other,” she states.
Then she turns and walks past me, lifting her nose in the air as she goes.
All I can do is stand rooted to the spot, wondering about the strange conversation I just witnessed.
When I finally turn to face Soren, I find him sitting in his expensive executive chair, watching me as he taps a pen on the desk.
“You’re on time,” he notes.
“I am,” I reply. “Do I call you ‘boss’ now?” I keep my gaze on him as I take a seat.
“I prefer, sir.” His piercing gray eyes don’t waver, full of challenge. “But if ‘boss’ makes it easier for you. I won’t argue.” His lips twitch ever so slightly when he says it. “I actually called you here to fire you.”
At first, I think I didn’t hear him correctly.
My brain just refuses to process it. But then he repeats it, and sure enough, I’m fucking fired.
The word slams into me like a well-timed slap.
Heat rushes to my face. Humiliation, hurt, and disbelief all tangled into one breathless second.
I should say something. Fight back. But for one terrifying heartbeat, all I can do is stand there, stunned.
Was this his game plan all along?
To fuck with me?
Yes, he was my story, but I haven’t done anything to hurt his business. I only seek the truth.
“How dare you—”
“And promote you,” he says, not letting me finish. “I’ve read your articles. You’re a fantastic writer.”
For a second, I stare at him, my brain trying to catch up.
Promote. Not fire. Not ruin.
The pressure in my chest releases so fast I nearly sway.
“Thank you…” I manage, still stunned. “I think.”
“I recognize talent when I see it, Miss Knight.” There he is again, using my last name like that.
“Can you stop calling me that? It’s Noah’s family name.”
“Okay, Hurricane. Any other requests?”
“Is this to stop me from doing the story on you?”
He resumes tapping the pen. “I saw an opportunity and took it.”
“Okay, so why?”
“Why what?”
“Why buy the company where I work, fire me, then promote me to a different position?”
“I just told you the why, but you don’t seem very interested in listening.”
“Oh, I’m very interested in listening. What’s the job?”
“I want you to manage the newsroom here.” My eyes go wide. The newsroom? Like, where the stories are approved or rejected. He wants me in charge of that?
My heart stutters. That’s not just a promotion; it’s a power shift. One I was not expecting.
“What’s the catch?” I ask, already knowing.
“You drop the story on me.”
And there it is. The leash.
I rise, smoothing my expression into something polite. Controlled. Even as my insides are in tumult. “I’ll think on it,” I tell him, then turn to leave.
“You have until the end of the day. I’m in the ring tonight. I’ll see you there. You remember how to get there?”
“Yes.”
But the real answer is more complicated. I open the door, and I don’t look back as I walk out.