Page 33 of His to Cherish
I threw myself at him out of nowhere on Friday. Followed him to that club. Basically spied on him. And now, only two days after he opened up to me, someone sells all his inner most secrets to a gossip site.
Whywouldn’the think it was me?
I pull my phone out but there’s nothing, no messages. Surely, he wouldn’t still be in that meeting. He must know about this by now. I type out a quick text.Call me, please.
It goes unread, and the dread grows in my stomach. Oliver never leaves my messages unread. He’s meticulous in his responsibility to me. He’s probably holed up with his company’s lawyers and PR people as we speak.
What if they’re asking about me? What if they’re warning him not to trust me?
I really think I might be sick.
“You should go,” Trisha says, eyeing me with concern. She’s the only person in this room who hasn’t been laughing or joking about the story. Instead, she’s looking at me with concern. All of a sudden, I wonder if maybe I haven’t been so good at hiding my crush from my perceptive work friend. Because mixed in with the concern on her face is a heck of a lot of sympathy.
“Go check on him,” she says gently, squeezing my arm. “I’ll tell the boss you aren’t feeling well.”
“Thank you,” I manage to croak out, then turn and sprint from the room, ignoring the calls and jeers of my co-workers.
OLIVER
“This is a shit show,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair. I glare at my PR guy. “Why in the hell didn’t we know this was coming?”
He shifts in his seat at my boardroom table, clearly uncomfortable. It’s his job to make me and the company look good in the press. And today’s hit piece most definitely doesnotmake me look good.
“We figured Zenith Corp would try to get dirt on you as the buyout approaches,” he says. “We just didn’t realize there was, uh, this obvious an opportunity for them to make you look bad.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you saying, Brian?”
Gretchen, my VP, shoots me a glare. She looks nearly as pissed as I feel about this development. And I can’t really blame her. We have a shit ton of money on the line in this buyout. The last thing we need is to give the board at Zenith a reason to back out.
“He’s saying that you put yourself—and the company—at risk with your lifestyle,” she says. “Frequenting sex clubs? Come on Oliver, how did you think that was going to work out for you?”
“My personal life is none of your goddamn business.”
She leans across the table. “It is when it affectsmybusiness.”
I point at the embossed seal of our logo in the middle of the heavy oak table. “Who’s fucking name do you see in that logo?” I bark. “I’m pretty sure it’s not yours.” I turn to the others, my top team members gathered in this room to try and address this mess. “Anyone else have anything to say about my personal life?”
No one says a word for a long moment.
“We need to talk about damage control,” the PR guy eventually offers.
“Agreed,” one of his team members says. “I think the first step is combatting the story that Club Wyld is, um, unsavory.” He turns to his colleague. “Isn’t it owned by the Wyld Inc. guys? Should we be spreading that info?”
“They are bigger names,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe turning the spotlight on them would deflect some attention.”
“We’re not selling out the guys at Wyld Inc.,” I say firmly.
Gretchen rolls her eyes. “You’re just worried they’ll cancel your membership.”
I’ve had about enough of her prudish judgement but losing my shit on her isn’t going to help anything.
“I want alternate suggestions,” I say to the PR team. “Because we’re not starting a war with the biggest tech company on the planet.”
“We could focus on your image,” the CFO suggests. “Give the press a different narrative.”
“That’s not bad,” the PR guy says. “The world needs to see you out and about. Convince the press you’re in a committed relationship.”
“Preferably with someone suitable,” Gretchen cuts in.
