Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I studied him.
I liked what I saw.
I stopped studying him.
“All right,” I agreed, that infernal characteristic I would swear I’d been born with—curiosity—overriding good sense (as it had a wont to do, hence my occupation).
“I don’t—” Chuck started.
I turned to him. “I’ll be okay.”
Chuck stared down at me for a beat. I knew he didn’t like it, but he eventually jerked up his chin.
I led Hale to my office, which was tiny, windowless, and not all that attractive. Everything in it was secondhand.
I’d splurged on what sat on the dais, as well as my makeup table and director’s chair, both of which were out in the studio.
This space?
Well, even though I attempted to balance work and life (I failed daily, by the by), I did my best to shut down when I went home, so I tried not to work when I was at home. This meant I spent a lot of time in this studio, and the office.
Still, what my watchers saw was more important than what they couldn’t see. So I didn’t bother investing much in my office.
However, leading Hale to it, for the first time, I was embarrassed by it.
I entered, he came in after me, and I turned to him just in time to watch him shut the door in a way that was both controlled, and still furious.
When he turned his attention to me, I began, “I know I haven’t been returning your tex—”
He cut me off by asking, “What the fuck is this shit, Elsa?”
I tried again. “I was just about to explain—”
“I bought the fucking building having no idea you could relocate to Syria and be safer going to work.”
I shut my mouth in surprise.
Hale didn’t.
“Jesus Christ, there’s not even a security system in this fucking place.”
Nugget of news: we’d spoken on the phone, exchanged texts, and as mentioned, I’d been in the same place as him. But we’d never officially met.
So much for how do you do.
“I—”
“I’m shutting it down until I can get some security measures installed.”
I felt my eyes get huge and my heartrate spike.
“Coded doors. Outdoor cameras. Indoor cameras,” he continued. “New windows with wire in them. Uniformed personnel conducting drive-bys and random checks. And it’s fucking freezing in here and your guy out there said the heating is constantly on the fritz. I’ll be seeing to that as well.”
My eyes stayed huge, but this time, my breath went funny.
“I’ll have my assistant inform you when you’re safe to reenter the building,” he finished.
It took some effort, but I found my voice. “Hale, you can’t shut me down. This is where I do my work. If I don’t have access to this space, I can’t do my work.”
“You can take a week.”
What?
“I can’t take a week,” I snapped. “And furthermore, you can’t tell me I can take a week. You don’t know the first thing about my business. So allow me to educate you, celebrity news is a twenty-four seven thing. It never stops. You have to be on it all the time. I haven’t had a vacation in three years.”
“Now’s your shot.”
Was he crazy?
“Hale—”
“This isn’t up for discussion, Elsa,” he stated dismissively. “The world can live without your on-dits for a week.”
My on-dits?
“I take what I do seriously,” I informed him.
“I can tell. However, we both know what you do isn’t actually serious.”
Oh my God!
No. No, no, no.
I wasn’t going to take the bait and get into a discussion about my work with him.
I sidestepped that and retorted, “I’m not vacating this building for work that can be done while I’m using it and paying rent to use it.”
“First up then is changing the locks so you can’t access the building while the work is being done. I’ll reimburse you for a week’s rent.”
My eyes narrowed. “Is this your new ploy to shut me down?”
“No, it’s my ploy to make sure you can do your work without someone coming in and stealing all your shit and or doing something hideous to you if they show while you’re in here working.”
All right, the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest. It was in a borough of New York City, one of the biggest cities in the world. One could argue every part of NYC could be dicey.
But it wasn’t Syria, no matter what he said. Not even close.
“I’ve had this space for two years without incident.”
“You’ll have it for two more with less chance to court an incident.”
“I’m a native New Yorker, Mr. Wheeler, I know how to look after myself.”
“Did you miss the part where I said this isn’t up for discussion?” he asked.
Another nugget of news: He sure was pretty. And an absolute asshole.
One thing I knew was that I could not go dark when I had three huge offers on the table.
I could find some temporary space, but that would be a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t like I could tape my segments days in advance. Celebrity news waited for no woman. I couldn’t be talking about Prince Harry when Harry Styles was up to something.