Page 17 of Brutal Kingdom

“Well, I guess nobody else has an interest piece so I can finish what I was saying.” She says, challenging me.

I ignore her. “If no one else has anything, let’s get back to the headlines.” I say, calling the meeting to a close. “Not you, Jordanna.” I bite out as everyone else scrambles from their seats.

Mrs. Morgan scurries past me, not wanting to be a witness to what’s about to happen. This is the first hint I’ve shown of my old self, and I take note of the way the staff and Mrs. Morgan jumped to do what I said.

Cracking my neck, I try to remain in control. “You were out of line.”

“Me? You’re the one who cut me off in the middle of my pitch.”

“I didn’t need to hear it. In fact, I never need to hear a pitch from you, because you no longer write for this paper.”

“I still work here and it’s up to Mrs. Morgan to fire me.”

“Who said anything about firing? I said you don’t write for us, because you don’t. You live behind the lens of a camera, taking the pictures our journalists tell you to take. You have no thoughts, no vision, or insight other than the story they’re crafting.”

I love seeing the look of shock on her face. “You can, of course, appeal this decision to Mrs. Morgan, but you should know she and I have already spoken and we’re in agreement. If you’re not happy to work as a photographer, you’re free to quit.”

She comes to stand in front of me, a condescending smile on her face. “Bella won’t like this. Didn’t she say she’s the only person who holds the key to making my life hell?” She shakes her head at me, “And here you are going off book.”

So now, I’m supposed to believe she sees Bella as her savior. That she-devil wants her burning in hell just as badly as I do, and threatening me with Bella is a stupid move. “Iwrotethe fucking book. What I do to my employees is none of Bella’s business. Besides, who’s gonna tell her I put my foot on your neck? You? That would require you putting your own bitch away to go up to her and tattle on me.”

“I can muzzle mine, if you can muzzle both of yours.”

“Who’s my second? Tabitha?”

“That would be you. I mean, that’s why you asked me to stay back, isn’t it? Because I challenged you in the pitch meeting with everyone watching. Because my idea was better than yours and you’re mad because everyone knows it.”

She’s got me there. I’m a little mad I didn’t think about it first. “It doesn’t matter if it was better. We’re not using it, and nobody’s gonna suggest that we do. They’re not stupid enough to go up against me.”

Cocking her head to the side and raising a brow, she says, “Now, you’re calling me stupid? Surely you have a better adjective than that,boss.”

My dick twitches against the inside of my thigh. Nothing like sass and sarcastic submission, to bring my sleeping cock to life. “That’s right, Iamthe boss, and if you don’t like the way I run the paper, you can quit.”

“And leave these people at your mercy, subjected to your illogical outbursts and tyrannical rule? I don’t think so.”

“These people include you. You’re at my mercy too.”

I’ve stepped closer, taking up all the space between us. There’s just a small gap separating our bodies. One large inhale from either of us and we’ll be touching.

“I’m not at your mercy. I’m deferring to your positional authority as editor, because I choose to.” She reaches up, putting a hand against my chest like she did at the bonfire. My heart constricts like it did then, too, blood rushing to my head and cock. “But our roles can switch at any time.” She shoves me away with a smirk on her face because she knows she’s caught me off guard.

“You’re choosing violence?”

“I’m showing you that if you push me, I’ll push right back.”

She goes to walk off as if she got the last word in. I grab the back of her neck, snatching her against me. Her spine stiffens when it collides with my chest. Slipping my hand around to grab the front of her throat, I growl, “Did you forget how much I fucking love that?”

She presses her ass against me, just for a second. It’s enough to get me to let her go. I’ve gotta lock down my emotions. Flying off the handle like that won’t help me survive hell night.

Other than the showdown I had with Logan at the paper, they’ve been quiet. Too quiet. Call me paranoid, all you want, but I know better than to trust the silence. My leverage on them is gone, and I’m sure they’re up to something. They always are. Robbie said reporters were in my old neighborhood in Fairview, asking about my family and Penn. I doubt whoever’s asking questions is a real reporter. Any journalist halfway decent at their job already knows we’ve relocated.

There’s been an uptick of activity at the old cathedral, and people talking in silence about something called Hell Night. That’s why I’m here, trying to figure out whose life they’re about to make hell. The last time I was here, sneaking around, was Logan’s birthday. It seems like a lifetime ago.

The Rift is huge, but I’ve only ever been on the main floor and the bell tower. There’s something different about this place tonight. It feels darker, more seductive, and I try not to stare too hard at what’s happening around me.

Tonight I’m traveling down stone carved stairs and along a path illuminated by candlelight sconces. Frankie and Hal are ahead of me. I see them slip around the corner, and wait a few seconds before following. There are three doors against the wall, but only one of them is closed. That’s the one I enter, plunging myself into a darkened room.

It’s empty. Looking left and right, I try to figure out where they went. I blink, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they finally do, I see that the room isn’t as empty as I thought. There are three other people in the 20 by 15 room, which is framed by fake marble columns, but no Frankie and Hal. I’m walking back towards the door I came through when Frankie steps out of the shadows, scaring the hell out of me.

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