Page 19 of Infamous Heart

“Noted.” Now the stress set in. If being jobless wasn’t enough, now I had to fear setting off my one job prospect.

“With that being said, he has been nothing but supportive. He pushes us to be the best versions of ourselves. Be you. There’s plenty to like. You’ll win him over.”

I was about to make a joke when Sebastian’s pinky finger linked with mine. When I didn’t pull away, he moved to intertwine our fingers. I had to resist the urge to push him against the wall and kiss him. At the same time, I didn’t want to resist.

“Does this mean a second date is in order?” Chad would be proud of me. It was pretty much a certainty and lacked any risk as he squeezed my hand. There was something taboo about the touch. It took me a moment to remember I didn’t work at the Beacon, and I wasn’t dating the competition. Then it moved to dating a co-worker. Our dirty office romance would be the thing of legends.

“You’re asking me out? Well, I’ll have to check my calendar. I’m sure I could pencil you in.”

I shot him a dirty look. There was something comfortable with the banter. If Sebastian had been all business, serious and straight faced, I wouldn’t have been this smitten. His playfulness overlaid his serious demeanor, making him irresistible.

“Pencil me in.” the elevator dinged as we reached our destination. “Maybe you’ll get your world rocked.”

His hand squeezed mine, but not in a gentle or cute manner. Sexual frustration found its way into his grip, and I imagined that same hand reaching into my pants. I might be projecting, but just maybe, he was as worked up as me. There was a bit of satisfaction knowing he’d be thinking about my offer while at work. There’s nothing sexier than a man in a suit, except a man in a suit with an erection.

“First,” the doors opened, “let’s see if you survive your interview.”

Well, that killed my hard on.

* * *

Mr. Bossman’s office had a classic look, similar to what you mind find in an old study, whereas Mr. Vex’s office would be the antithesis. His office was lined with modern black shelves holding awards and trinkets, a display of his self-proclaimed greatness. His desk occupied the center of the room, a large piece of glass supported on a metal frame. Modern, minimal, expensive.

As I walked into the office, he was reviewing something on a tablet. With a single finger held up, telling me to wait, I had a chance to inspect the awards. Outstanding Businessman. Upcoming Entrepreneur. Faces to Watch. Industry Disrupter. Each of the glass sculptures spoke to his success as a businessman. Mr. Bossman had similar awards, but those spoke about the success of the magazine and less about personal accolades.

“Alright then,” Damien set the table down and leaned back in his chair. The windows behind him were tinted, but with the sun high in the sky, it created a dark silhouette of the man. With the layout of the room and the carefully placed awards, it must be an intentional decision, all to add to the man’s image.

“Thank you for seeing me so quickly,” I managed.

I moved to one of the chairs opposite of his desk. The black leather was surprisingly comfortable. I could imagine after a long day of work, sitting in his office and drinking a celebratory whisky.

“Mr. Taylor spoke highly of you. He said that your work pushed boundaries at the Beacon.” He crossed his legs. As he put his hands together, pointer fingers touching the sharp angle of his chin, he appeared like a classic Bond villain.

“I brought my portfolio for—“

“I’ll take Mr. Taylor’s word for it. I’m not sure how things are run at the Beacon, but I employ people I trust to run my business. I’m not a creative, and I won’t step on the toes of people in that role.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “That’s a refreshing take.”

“Let’s get the formalities out of the way.” He leaned forward, sliding the tablet out of the way as he rested his elbows on the glass. “Why did you decide to meet with Mr. Taylor?”

Did mentioning the man’s sex appeal lack professionalism? I decided to go with a more business approach. “The climate at the Beacon has management in an adversarial position with the creative teams.”

It was the best way to explain they were being assholes. Damien’s face, cast in shadows, was incredibly difficult to read. I couldn’t tell if he liked my answer or if he was mentally labeling me a troublemaker.

“What is the real reason?” He hardly moved as he pushed me against a wall. “The work climate isn’t why you contacted Mr. Taylor.”

Did he want to know about his employees dating? I had heard some bosses took liberties in what they considered professional, but that seemed out of character for a man who focused on his growing his business.

“I gave them an ultimatum and got fired.”

“A man who stands up for his beliefs.” Did Sebastian learn how to be cryptic from this man? Their inability to give contextual clues was alarming. I swore I’d never sit opposite of this man at a poker table.

“The Beacon.” he stood slowly, exerting a mastery of core strength. He fastened the button on his blazer in a well-rehearsed motion, as if he were putting on body armor to prepare for battle. “It’s a small-time operation that focuses on the wholesome aspect of superheroes. It’s cute really, and you know what they say about cute?”

Was I supposed to answer? Cute is for kittens? Cute is what my mother called me? Better to keep my mouth shut and let the man answer for himself.

“Cute doesn’t sell. The Beacon has a diminishing readership, meanwhile the exposes of Revelations have seen a surge. People don’t care about the Illuminator’s favorite brownie recipe. They amount to puff pieces that lack any substance. Do you know what readers are really after?”

---