Page 42 of Babies for the Big Shot
There was only her. And the way her body arched into mine with a desperate honesty that has left me wrecked in ways I cannot begin to articulate.
This morning, the world is altered. Nothing about my reality has changed, yet everything is different. She remains myemployee. She remains untouchable by every professional and ethical standard I have built my life upon. Yet after last night, the distance between us has narrowed into something dangerous and irreversible.
I can still smell her on my skin, threaded beneath the expensive leather of my jacket and the muted woodsmoke of my cologne. The knowledge of her is embedded so deeply within me it’s cellular.
I step off the executive elevator, tugging my tie loose in a futile attempt to force my expression back into something neutral. But it must be clear on my face, because Jonah is waiting the moment the doors open.
He doesn’t bother with a greeting. Doesn’t offer a sardonic observation or perfunctory insult. He simply looks at me, his jaw set, eyes narrowed, and jerks his head in the direction of my office.
The leaden thud in my chest tells me everything I need to know.
I follow him down the corridor in silence, my pulse already beginning to hammer. He doesn’t speak until the door closes behind us. Even then, he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he tosses his phone onto my desk with a flick of his wrist that carries a brutal finality.
“Enjoy your morning press?”
I glance down, unprepared for the impact.
My stomach sinks with a sickening twist.
There, illuminated in high-resolution pixels already watermarked by two separate gossip sites, is last night captured in ruthless, unforgiving clarity. Me, in my suit and overcoat, bent over her doorstep, kissing her with both hands framing her face, her bare foot visible behind the cracked door. The intimacy of it is undeniable. Raw. Unvarnished. Exposed.
The caption beneath it reads:
THE CITY’S NOTORIOUS BACHELOR CEO NICK ASHFORD LOCKED IN LATE-NIGHT LIPLOCK… BUT WHO’S THE WOMAN IN HIS ARMS?
I force myself to exhale, though it’s more like expulsion than relief.
Jonah finally lifts his gaze to mine. “It’s viral. Entertainment outlets. Reddit threads. One of the celebrity blogs recognized you, cross posted it with your Billions & Bachelor highlight reel. You’re trending under #CEOHeartbreaker if you wanted a reason to vomit before lunch.”
I close my eyes briefly, pressing my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose. “Goddamn it.”
He nods, pacing to the bar cart in the corner and pouring himself a glass of water with uncharacteristic restraint. “You want the good news or the bad news?”
“There’s good news?”
“No,” he replies flatly. “I just thought it might soften the blow.”
He takes a long drink, sets the glass down, and turns to face me fully.
“The board is already asking questions. Quietly, for now. HR has been instructed to review any documentation related to her employment file. You’re fortunate she hasn’t filed a complaint, but if this escalates, it won’t matter.”
I lift my gaze to his, each word landing with surgical precision against the raw edges of my control. “It was consensual.”
“I’m sure. But the public doesn’t care, Nick. Optics are everything. You’re the CEO. She’s a subordinate. This isn’t simply a public relations issue, it’s a legal liability with the potential to escalate beyond your control.”
The words land with the weight of inevitability, but I react on instinct, my tone clipped and final. “I’ll fix it.”
Jonah turns toward me, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and pity. “You can’t bulldoze this into submission. This isn’t the boardroom, you may run the company but there are other voices at the table.. You don’t get to override protocol just because you fear the outcome.”
“I’m not ashamed of her,” I say, voice low but steady, the only truth I can offer without unraveling entirely.
“That’s not the point and you know it.” His tone softens, only slightly, but enough to remind me why he’s the only person allowed to speak to me this way. “Listen. I know you care about her. Anyone with eyes can see that. But this isn’t about how you feel. It’s about the company. Your reputation. Hers. The interns are already whispering and it’s not even noon.”
I drag a hand across my jaw, feeling the rough stubble burn against my palm, grounding me in the cold reality I’ve spent my entire life anticipating and outmaneuvering. But not this time. This… I didn’t prepare for this.
This isn’t how I wanted it to happen. Not with her name on the tip of every gossip reporter’s tongue. Not with her reputation leveraged against mine. I should have been more careful. I should have remembered that in this city, someone is always watching, always waiting to turn a private moment into public currency.
My mind flickers back to her face this morning, still drowsy with sleep, her smile slow and unguarded, the small hitch in her breath when I kissed her goodbye before stepping out into the darkness. She didn’t see the camera.
