Chapter 4 Harrison
HARRISON
Damn it. Why did she have to be so right?
It was getting hard for me not to flip out on Alan and his team of dorks, because they were wasting my time.
I tried to keep my expression neutral as they worked through the presentation.
They’d spent way too much time thin-splicing Scarlet’s fan base, which was fascinating from a marketing perspective but was nothing I actually needed.
It was like they were trying to hide their lack of campaign creativity with the strength of their research.
“Now let’s get to the good stuff.” Alan smiled at me, wide and glossy. After staring at his teeth during the presentation, I was convinced he’d gotten his giant white veneers from Temu.
“We want to set you up somewhere neutral for a taped apology. Like when Bryant and Danielle did their apology video. They were sitting in front of a nondescript wall out back of their house, to downplay how absolutely stunning their property is.” Alan turned to his colleagues.
“We were there, just off screen. The place is gorgeous, right?”
A group of three frat-esque guys all nodded in unison.
“So yeah,” Alan continued, “we’ll find someplace in your palace that’ll make you look less…”
“Ashford,” a colleague interjected with a knowing laugh.
“Exactly!” Alan agreed.
I shifted in my seat but kept my mouth shut.
“And of course we’ll have a Scarlet song playing in the background,” Alan said. “We were thinking ‘Happy Time,’ right? Isn’t that the name of it?”
“You mean ‘Happy Again.’” I frowned at how everything was unfolding just as Gwen had predicted.
Alan’s eyebrow shot up, and he jabbed a finger at me.
“Ah, we’ve got a true Rushie here! That’ll play beautifully with her fans.
So yeah, the song is on in the background, we’ll script out what you need to say, and stay with me here…
I know this is a big ask, but it’ll really make all the difference… ” He paused. “You. Tiara.”
“Yes,” one of the frat guys fist pumped like he was hearing the plan for the first time.
Alan kept going before I could say anything. “And there’s one more thing that’ll play huge with her base.”
“A dance,” I said flatly.
“Hell yeah,” he replied, nodding excitedly. “You get it! I’ll have one of our office gals teach you a viral TikTok dance you can do at the end of the video. The Rushies’ll eat that shit up! Sounds like you’re already down with the concept, so let’s talk about timing.”
“All I’ve done since I arrived is listen to you talk,” I said.
“This was supposed to be a fact-finding meeting, to get a feel for what I’m comfortable with, and what I think will play well with my brand, but you know what?
I could have lived with you skipping right past that if you’d really gone for gold on delivering what the Rushies are looking for.
But you bombed that too. Because all of what you just described? Garbage.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” I said, leaning forward in my chair.
“Let me explain how everything you outlined will backfire. A non-apology is worse than no apology because there’s no accountability.
The song you selected is basically about Scarlet wishing her ex would die, and I would be relentlessly mocked if I set my apology to it.
If I wear a tiara, I’ll piss off her gay fans, and lastly, I. Do. Not. Dance.”
The room was pin-drop quiet by the time I finished, with the McPherson guys staring at me gapemouthed.
“I really think…” Alan began, clearly flustered. “Harrison, I think you’re coming at this from the wrong angle. In this kind of situation, it’s best for you to lean into the advice of a group that understands how the game is played.”
“You think you understand the game, huh?” I asked as I stood up. “The problem isn’t with me, it’s with you.”
I stormed toward the door.
“Hold on, where are you going? What are you talking about?” Alan asked, chasing after me.
I wrenched the door open and looked around the office. “Where is Gwen Ackland’s desk?”
A nervous woman pointed to a row of cubicles around the corner. I headed in that direction.
“Gwen?” I shouted. “Where are you?”
Her head popped up over the top of a cubicle, prairie dog-style. “Here?”
I stomped over to her with Alan jogging behind me. “I want her.”
“You want…Gwen?” Alan asked, like I’d just suggested hiring the person who sold soft pretzels on the street.
“You want me?” she echoed.
Yeah, I wanted her—in more ways than one, if I was honest with myself.
Gwen looked incredible in that sleek black dress, her hair smoothed into one of those twists that looked Parisian and which made fingers itch to mess it up.
And the curves. I had to fight to keep my eyes on her face because I could get caught up in those hips for hours.
Like before. As good as they looked, that was nothing compared to how they felt, bucking beneath me. I could imagine her velvet skin beneath my fingertips and how easy it was to make her moan with pleasure. And that sweet mouth, those fat lips I’d been lucky enough to watch devouring my—
“Why her?” Alan demanded. “She’s not qualified for an account like yours.”
I cleared my throat and forced myself to stay present for the fight to come.
“Because Miss Ackland is well acquainted with the Rushie fandom, and she knows how they think. I can’t imagine a group of bros has their finger on the pulse of a largely female fan base.”
“I mean, maybe we could add Gwen to our team?” Alan offered hopefully.
“No,” I shook my head. “I want her as the lead, or this isn’t happening.”
Gwen gaped at me, stunned speechless. She didn’t ask for this kind of attention, but she’d already nailed the audition without even trying when she’d served up the facts in the elevator.
In all of two minutes, she’d shown more understanding of the situation and the fan base than Alan had in his whole endless presentation.
I knew in my gut aligning myself with Gwen would pull me through the nightmare.
“Now, Harrison, that absolutely can’t happen. Whatever Gwen’s…charms, she’s not qualified to lead an account as important as yours. But we’ll get her on our team and fill her in on the direction.”
“The wrong direction,” Gwen said under her breath but loudly enough for me to hear.
I finally managed to look away from Gwen and back at Alan. “You’re unwilling to consider a different campaign approach?”
His eyes went wide, and he sputtered for a few seconds before collecting himself.
“We’re confident that the plan we outlined is the right one.
Plus, we don’t have the luxury of time to create and put into place a new plan.
” His expression darkened. “You’re sort of fucked, Harrison. You need to act fast.”
If he thought playing hardball was going to win me over, he was dead wrong. His job was to show me a path forward, not remind me of the obvious shitstorm I was facing, as if I’d let desperation make the decision for me.
“Gwen? How quickly do you think you could come up with something more appropriate for me?” I asked her, ignoring Alan and his crew.
“It’s already done.”
“I’m sorry?” Alan asked, striding closer to her. “What do you mean by that? Have you been using company resources for private work?”
Gwen sighed and rolled her eyes at him. “In my head. It’s what I do. I assess our clients’ challenges and come up with my version of how to address them. Sometimes it aligns with McPherson’s plans, but usually I’m an outlier.” She shrugged. “In this scenario, we’re not even in the same zip code.”
“Good,” I said with a nod. “So you could put your plan to work immediately?”
“Sure,” she replied, still wary, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Okay, then,” I said. “Come work for me.”
A murmur went up around us because by now the entire office was eavesdropping on what was probably the juiciest meeting in company history.
“What?”
Alan and Gwen shouted the word in unison, with totally different inflections.
“I want you,” I said to Gwen, ignoring the potential double meaning.
“You have a grasp on what the Rushies want, and you pointed out the flaws in the McPherson concept. Not to mention, I need help yesterday, and you’re ready to go.
So quit this place, come to work for me, and help me sort out this nightmare. ”
Everyone stared at Gwen, waiting for her to say something.
“She’s not qualified,” Alan said in a cutting voice. “Not even close. That’s why she’s not on our team. Gwen’s essentially a step above an intern. There’s no way she’s ready to lead a campaign as important as yours.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just call me? An intern? Do you know who I used to work for, and how long I’ve been at this?”
“Yes, and nothing you’ve done so far for us has amounted to anything,” Alan replied snidely.
Gwen stormed closer to him, and for a moment I thought she was going to punch him.
“That’s because you never give me a chance to do anything.
You treat me like a glorified secretary.
” She paused and craned her neck. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a secretary, Connie.
But it’s not the job I chose, and it’s not the job I was hired to do. ”
“Let me sweeten the deal,” I said. I threw out a salary, and someone behind me let out a low whistle at the number.
“That’s ridiculous,” Alan scoffed. “She’s not worth that much.”
Gwen’s face went red, and she narrowed her eyes at Alan, then turned to me.
“Double it, and I’m yours.”
The words hung loaded between us. Her cheeks were flushed, chin lifted defiantly, and she looked fucking amazing.
Alan threw his head back and laughed, and his gang of bros echoed it, sounding distinctly like a pack of hyenas. I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something I’d regret. My mouth had already gotten me in enough trouble, so I focused on Gwen.
Our eyes locked, and all I wanted to do was get her out of the place. She was asking for an insane salary, but I was desperate. And she was worth it. She was absolutely worth it.
“Done,” I said. “Let’s go.”
I turned so abruptly I nearly ran into Alan, who’d crept up behind me.
“Harrison, wait, hold on for a minute!”
“We’re through here,” I said to him over my shoulder as I walked away.
I pressed the elevator button feeling every set of eyes trained on me. It wasn’t a foreign sensation given my position, but I wasn’t used to being looked at quite like this.
The entire office thought I was making a mistake.
But I knew in my gut I was right. And I always listened to my gut.
Sure, things would be bumpy with Gwen at first. The woman made me see red every time we interacted, but she knew what the hell she was doing, unlike the jokers on floor thirty-two. Eventually, I’d get past my attraction to her.
I had to.
The alternative—spending every day fighting the urge to pin her against the nearest wall—wasn’t exactly an option. I was her boss now. I had to be professional. Even if everything about her made me want to throw professionalism out the window.
The elevator doors were about to close when a hand with bright pink polish thrust between them, forcing them back open.
“Hi,” Gwen said with a small wave as she stepped on clutching a notebook, a potted plant, and a framed photo against her chest.
I wanted to see who she valued enough to keep a picture of at her desk, but staring at it would make me look like I was staring at her breasts. Those perfect, full, soft breasts with the most beautiful, sensitive pink nipples.
I remembered the way she’d arched her back and moaned when I took one in my mouth to tongue it. Just the thought was enough to wake up my cock, which was the absolute last thing I needed right now. I shifted a half step away.
From now on, I had to bury the tension between us and focus on the job ahead.
“You okay?” I asked without turning to look at her.
She answered with a long sigh. “I don’t know. Yes? Maybe?”
“They’re clowns,” I said. “You were right.”
“Wow,” she snorted. “You’re actually admitting that? Out loud?”
“Gwen, enough,” I said with a weary sigh. “We need to at least pretend to get along. You’re on my team now.”
She leaned back against the wall and eyed me.
“If my calculations are correct, I’m leading your team at the moment,” she said, smug.
She was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
“You’re leading a campaign,” I corrected.
“Right, okay,” she winked at me. “Anyway, when do I start?”
I finally turned to look her in the eye. “Now.”
She blanched. “What, like you want me to drive over there right now? Do you have an office for me? Is HR ready with my paperwork?” She started pacing in a circle like the reality of what she’d just done—quit in the middle of the day, Jerry Maguire-style—was hitting her.
“Because I’m getting worried that you just made me quit my job as some sort of prank, and I’m starting to feel a little—”
“Gwen, take a fucking breath. First, I didn’t make you quit your job, I extended an offer and you accepted it.
And as for your start date, I meant you should begin officially drafting your plan now.
You start on salary today, even if you don’t officially come in until tomorrow.
I’ll make sure you have an office and laptop ready for you by nine.
“But first thing after you arrive, I want you in my office ready to present to me and my team. A full deck, with actionable content. None of that filler bullshit they just made me sit through. I hired you at that ridiculous salary because you might be the only person able to flip the narrative around me, so I expect you to hit the ground running.”
She straightened her back. “Oh, don’t worry, I will.”
It sounded like a cross between a threat and a promise.
What the hell did I just get myself into?