Chapter 30 #2
I looked up at Seb, hoping to keep down my flush, but the nervous mussing he’d done to his dark hair had tousled some waves into it, and in the second before he realized I’d seen him, he was staring at me like I was a painting.
My heart flip-flopped, and I swallowed hard. “They wouldn’t be allowed to print this in the United States. That’s terrible.”
And hot.
Seb nodded. His voice was sympathetic as he leaned forward, motioning to take the paper away.
“I know. Total invasion of privacy, and no journalistic integrity in the reporting either. There are photos like that spread all over the internet now too.” He cleared his throat, loosening his tie as some of his cheeks’ color resurfaced.
“But I spoke to Mr. Harding about it. He just seemed to brush it off, said everything else about him was under exposure, so add that to the pile.”
I stole another peek at the photo and placed it into Seb’s hand.
His slender, artistic fingers brushed the back of my hand, spreading a tingle up my arm that only made my cheeks burn hotter.
“I’d die of embarrassment if that were me,” I said, mortified by how breathless I sounded. My admiration for Bryce was mixing with every tiny gesture from Seb until I couldn’t even tell which guy was causing which sensation. “I don’t think I’d leave the house again.”
“That’s the thing though, about New Nebraska. When it boils down to it, we’re quite different from the US about intimate matters and our physical forms. The media’s only jumped on that because he’s super rich and famous, not because he’s naked. I mean, maybe a little cause he’s naked.”
I snorted out a laugh, and a dreamy look washed over his handsome, sharp-angled face. He had a Renaissance statue look about him, I thought. Clean shaven, a little boyish, but carved in precise, beautiful lines.
… more gorgeous when she laughs…
Was he thinking about me? I tucked my hair behind my ear, self-conscious, and then felt heat hit my neck when another thought struck.
Had he heard me thinking about him with this magical mind reading thing?
I quickly diverted my thoughts, scrambling for something else to say. “But, it’s not normal to have nudity on a news page, is it? At least not uncensored like that, right?”
Seb was breathing faster but feigned a casual shrug. “I’ve seen a few like that, of famous people. I don’t think it’s nudity, just obsession over celebrity. If that were my naked body on there, nobody would look twice.”
I found that hard to believe. My thoughts went straight to the unprofessional again. He had an Adonis thing going for him—slender but toned, with a great head of thick, black hair. I’d slide off those glasses and—
Knock it off, I scolded myself. He might… hear.
God, if she keeps thinking like that, I’m going to bow down at her feet and tell her to do with me whatever she wants.
My breath caught, stomach coming alive with a rush of fluttering wings.
“So, uh, anyway, moving on,” Seb blurted out and cleared his throat turning his laptop to face me.
He tapped a couple of buttons. “I’ve been working on a few mockups, but right now, I’m really feeling this one.
” He zoomed in on one of four quickly color-blocked mockups on the screen.
“I thought we could play into the whole Midas Greek myth angle.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. He’d just started leaning toward that option, huh? Did that mean he had heard my Adonis talk?
Not that I was complaining about the topic. I had a limited education, thanks to my foster parents, but Greek mythology—the watered-down versions anyway—had been sixth grade material and something I’d gotten interested in because of art. This I could work with.
“I’ve been…” He let out a bashful laugh and adjusted his glasses. “Well, I’ve been playing this new fantasy game, Hades, and I’ve been geeking out over the character design, and it’s gotten me back into all the mythology. I guess I just can’t get it out of my head.”
I smiled so big it hurt, trying to restrain a laugh in case he took it the wrong way. “You’re a gamer?”
He flushed. “Yeah. The extra nerdy kind. I don’t go for first-person shooters.”
“No, of course. I mean, there’s no good lore to research in those games,” I teased. “They’re boring.”
He laughed. “Exactly.”
To break the magnetic pull of his grin, I leaned toward the screen.
I loved his design’s simplicity. Midas was written in gleaming gold font at the top, with a map of New Nebraska below the same shade.
I looked up at him, to give him the praise he deserved. “Wow, I love it. Great start. But it needs a slogan, and maybe you could lean more into the Greek thing and spruce up the border with some olive leaves or a laurel motif?”
His eyes sparked and he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I like it.” He turned the screen back toward him and started working the mouse. “Any brainstorms for the slogan?”
I tapped my chin. “Hmm. I think we should pull a total one-eighty from the Temple, and go with something that implies equality. The news is supposed to be objective, which means treating everyone with equal integrity.”
We spit-balled for the next half hour. But it wasn’t until we settled on laurels instead of olive branches that the idea came to me.
“Hey! What if it’s a play on both motifs—Midas and crowning winners?” I spread my palms out like a ticker-tap banner and said, “Midas News: You’re Golden.”
His mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, it’s perfect.” A loud tut came from the doorway. Then a slow, mocking knock on the door. “Knock, knock. Hello, you two. And Serenity, so nice to see you again. Is this what you get up to when you’re not causing mayhem?”
I turned to find Monique’s towering figure in the doorway, her slender arms folded, flawless teeth peeking between pristine red lipstick.
She wore a marigold pantsuit that fitted her catwalk figure perfectly.
Brushing her shimmering locks behind her shoulders, she leaned into the door frame, crossing her long legs at the ankles.
She clasped a chunky hardback book in one hand, its cover blood red and font like a horror novel.
I could just make out the title: The Rancor of Humanity.
The author’s name was Clyde Brunton, or maybe Blanton, I couldn’t see properly around her dainty, bejeweled hand.
I’d—kind of—fought off two of New Nebraska’s most dangerous gangster-vampires just two nights before. She was nothing I should have worried about, in comparison. Yet I still felt intimidated. I wanted to flip her off as casually as Dagger would have, but I couldn’t. My fingers refused.
The best I could manage was subtle sarcasm. “Hello, Monique. Nice to see you too.”
She sauntered to Seb’s desk in two strides and sneered down at our logo. “Please tell me you’ve come up with better than that. And what’s wrong with the old ones, anyway? Nobody’s complained about them, that I know of.”
Leaning over, her platinum tresses tickling Seb’s hand, she pinched his cheek like he was a helpless boy to be toyed with.
“Careful not to make too many waves.” Her tone turned cold, and I swore her mint-scented breath lowered the office temperature by ten degrees.
“That’s when you can get out of your depth. ”
Seb took hold of her hand and pushed it away slowly but firmly, then he scooted his chair back, clear of the hair dancing across his shirt sleeves.
His voice was polite but formal. “I’m sorry, Ms. Glenmore, but I don’t appreciate you touching me.
Or talking to me like that. I respect your boundaries and I expect the same in return.
If you can’t act professionally, I’ll have to lodge a formal complaint with Mr. Harding. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re working.”
I raised a brow and leaned back, admiring him. He’d totally flattened her, without raising his voice or breaking workplace etiquette. The scowl on Monique’s face was priceless.
I put my hand to my mouth, thinking I should hide my smirk rather than goad her further.
Straightening and sashaying to the door, she turned and pointed a glowing frost fingernail at Seb’s logo.
“That won’t change anything, you’ll see.
” She swept her hair back and turned, calling back over her shoulder as she left, “And the only men who talk to me like that are either blind or gay. Which are you?”
What an arr—
“Arrogant bitch?” Seb asked.
“It’s like you read my mind.”
After a beat, we both burst into laughter.
I was buckled over in my chair with the giggles when my phone beeped. A message from Bryce: Grabbing some stuff for dinner. Any requests?
“Hey, Seb,” I said, dabbing at the tears of laughter gathered on my lash line, “do you have any dinner plans?”
“No,” he said in a rush, leaning forward. He stayed that way and cleared his throat. “Not outside of going through a drive-thru on the way home, anyway.”
“Then you should come to Hunter’s place. We’re having a little get together thing…” I hesitated.
“Oh, sounds nice.” He sank back in his chair.
Damn, I’d phrased that initial invite wrong. Like a date or something. I was already in over my head with Hunter… and whatever was brewing with Bryce.
But Seb was so easy to talk to, and he deserved a nice meal for the verbal lashing he’d given Monique.
I hurried to correct myself. “Bry—Mr. Harding and Hunter are old friends, and Mr. Harding is promising to cook. If anything can cure that insomnia you’ve got, it’s a stomach full of wonderful food.”
He seemed to hunch in on himself, and he waved off the idea. “Oh, I couldn’t impose.”
“Trust me, you won’t. You’ll be my guest.”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to hang out, but I don’t want to cause awkwardness…”
“What if I insist?” I propped an elbow on his desk and rested my chin in my hand. “I’ve got plenty of time to persuade you.”
A smile quirked his mouth. “Then…” He dragged on the word, placing both elbows on the wood and tenting his fingers as he shot me a surprisingly sly look that made me chew the inside of my lower lip. “I’d say your wish is my command.”
“Perfect.”
But as I texted Hunter and Bryce a heads up about my plan, a twinge of doubt hit my gut. Would it really be the pleasant evening I was envisioning? Or had my new reckless “live a little” philosophy just made me toss Seb into a jaguar den?