Page 16 of The Billionaire's Desire

This situation was going from bad to worse in record time. No one else was saying anything so I opened my mouth. “Miss Kent, I think what Mrs. Diaz is trying to say is that your career is at a critical tipping point and we’re here to ensure that you tip in the right direction.” When Mia whipped to face me, still angry, still confused, I clarified. “Towards success.”

I saw the fight in her eyes flicker, her breathing dialing down a notch. I gave her an uneasy smile and a nod before I turned to Missy. “We’re here to help, right?”

Now Missy was the one that looked like she was ready to step in a ring, ready to go a round or two with me. “You’ll have to forgive Miss Montgomery. She hasn’t been with the company for very long.”

Don't do it, Missy. I’d just given her an out. Mia was calming down and we could move forward.

“I meant exactly what I said,” Missy continued, going dark just as I feared she would. “I’m not gonna tiptoe around anything. You are going to do, say, and go where we tell you or you’re going to fail.”

The gasp of horror that hissed from Mia’s mouth made me feel more than a little sorry for her and I scrambled to fix things. “Miss Kent...Mia...”

But she was already up, kicking the chair out of the way, throwing a grown up tantrum that had everyone gaping at her.

Bad, meet Worse.

“I’m not gonna sit here and let you talk to me like that. Do you know who I am?” Spit flew from her mouth like rain. “DO YOU?!”

“Today I do,” Missy said, crossing her arms nonchalantly. “Without us, in five years you’ll be that girl that was on that show. Another child starlet that hit eighteen and lost their damn mind.”

Mia stormed from the room, leaving silence in her wake. I knew Missy was opinionated. It was her M.O. But that ‘get in line or get out’ attitude wasn’t one size fits all. Mia came in combative, gearing for a fight. The last thing she needed was to have someone give it to her.

Missy pushed her chair away from the table. “She’ll be back.”

I guess that was her way of concluding the meeting because everyone else followed suit, pushing back and filing from the room. I hung back, waiting until it was just she and I.

“Can I have a minute, Missy?”

She didn’t say yes, but she turned to face me, clearly still unpleased that I dared to interrupt her during the meeting. As much as I wanted to tell her that I was trying to fix her fallout, do her a favor, I tried to alleviate the tension instead.

“I just wanted to say that I spoke up because I felt that the dialogue was headed down a negative path,” I explained. “She deals with negative day in and day out, people trying to be armchair psychiatrists when no one knows what’s behind this except for Mia.”

“And I don’t care what’s behind it,” Missy said curtly. “I’m not here to be her friend or her confidante. I’m her publicist.”

“I get that, but why can’t we be understanding of her specific needs and--”

“I’m sorry, aren’t you a secretary? What value is your opinion in this matter?”

She may as well have spit in my face because the sting of her words sliced just as deep as hocking a loogie would have. I guess our second ceasefire lasted a few hours longer than the first but was it progress if I was back to hating her guts?

Missy left the room, probably off to brag about how she’d just schooled both me and Mia. My hands were shaking, my eyes filling with what I refused to admit were tears. I left the conference room with my eye on the bathroom down the hall. I would make myself decent before I had to walk through Missy’s territory.

I pushed open the door and went to the sink, putting my trembling hands beneath the water, rubbing them together, trying to calm down. I thought I heard something, someone so I stood up taller, steeling myself for one of Missy’s cronies to come out, ready to report back that she’d successfully gotten under my skin. But the door swung open and it was Mia.

Mascara making dark streaks down her face. Mia, falling apart.

I took a step in her direction, wanting to say or do something to let her know that everything would be okay.

She threw venom that stopped me in my tracks. “What the hell are you looking at?”

She stomped past me without another word, yanking open the door and leaving me wondering why I even tried.

But I couldn't shrug it off. She needed help, and not of the 'or else' variety.

****

Natasha was watching me pace back and forth in the lounge area with this little smirk on her glossed lips that told me Missy had already talked to her about the meeting.

Missy's harsh words...Mia's face...

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