by Claire Adams
She looked down at the floor in silence for a few moments. Eventually, she looked up, and her face now wore a strange expression.
“You saw the picture in The Times, didn't you?”
“I did.”
She nodded. “I thought so. And yet you didn't message me even once over the weekend.”
“Message you? Whatever for? I mean, I saw with my own eyes who you're choosing to spend your time with these days. What would have been the point in messaging you? You’ve been avoiding me for days.”
Anger heated my blood. I hadn't wanted to argue, but it appeared that’s where the conversation was heading. Like an avalanche crashing down a mountainside: if it began, there would be no stopping it. I could almost feel Lilah's temper heating up from across the room, as well. I knew things could get explosive but despite realizing that, I couldn't stop myself.
“If you actually cared, you would have called me up. You would have messaged me and asked me about it. But you didn't, you waited to ambush me this morning. And that silence told me more than your words and this ambush ever could.”
“What?! How . . . How dare you? You go out on the town with my biggest rival—whom, I might add, is the prime suspect behind the break-in at this company—and don't say a word about it to me, leaving it for me, and everyone else in this city, to discover by opening up Saturday's issue of The Times. Now you're trying to turn it around and make it all about how I'm the bad guy here?! Like I'm the one who was at fault? I can't believe this! I can't believe you'd have the audacity to even try to pull that sort of bullshit on me!”
She stared at the ground again in silence.
“You're right,” she said softly.
I was shocked. I'd been expecting a vengeful, angry response yelled at me at full volume. Not that. I didn't know what to say.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you that Brendan was after me. And when I say that, yes, I mean romantically and professionally, as well. I had no right to keep it from you. It's just that . . .” her voice trailed off as if she was trying to maintain her composure, trying not to cry.
“Just what, Lilah?” I asked, my tone calm.
“It’s just that I've been so confused, so uncertain about everything . . . about this job, about my career, about you and me . . .” Her eyes met mine, and I just wanted to jump across the desk and hold her. Tell her it would be okay. But, I wasn’t so sure it would be.
She exhaled hard before she began again. “And now this. This . . . It's all so . . . It's just been too much to handle, too much to process, all right?
“Jesus, couldn't you just cut me a little slack? I've been thrown into the deep end from the start, and it's just gotten deeper and deeper! And now I'm at the point where I just don't know what's going on anymore.”
“I'm sorry,” I murmured. “I don't know what to say.”
“I don't, either,” she replied softly. “I don't, either.”
And with that, she turned on her heels, walked out, and closed the door behind her. Without the key.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lilah
As I walked out of Asher's office, my throat began tightening up. The sting of tears threatened the corners of my eyes. I rarely cried, but after this, after everything that had happened, it just felt as if things had reached a tipping point and everything had just come crashing down. Facing Asher had been much harder than I'd imagined it would be. I just needed to be alone and my office was locked.
I walked as fast as I could, without drawing attention to myself from other people on the floor, and headed straight to the women's bathroom. Thankfully, it was unoccupied, so I went into one of the stalls and locked the door.
I gave myself a minute or two to let the tears and emotions out, and boy, did they come out. I sobbed and sniffed, and the tears rolled down my cheeks and dripped onto my blouse and skirt. Thankfully, I’d worn a dark outfit, so the tearstains weren’t noticeable. It was one my favorite “power suits” and I’d chosen it specifically because I'd suspected that a confrontation with Asher was in the cards.
After I had finished crying, I stood and dried my eyes and cheeks. I was about to exit the stall when my phone buzzed in my bag. I took it out to see who the message was from. I was from Meg.
Hey, Lilah! Happy Monday! How has the start of your week been? You still need to tell me all about Friday night!
I typed out a quick reply.
Hi, Meg. It's not going well at all. Have a minute to talk?
Almost as soon as the message had been read, my phone started to ring.
“Hey, Meg.”
“Hey! What's wrong, Lilipop. Are you all right?”
“Not really. It's been a hell of a Monday morning already.”
“Wow! You’ve been at work 15 minutes. What happened?”
“Asher confronted me about Friday night,” I explained.
“Umm, how did he know?”
“I figured you might have seen it, but there was a huge glowing picture of me and Brendan on the social page of The Times Saturday.”
“Ohhhhhh,” she let out.
“Yeah. So, we got into it and I kind of told him that Brendan was interested in me not just professionally, but also romantically.”
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “You have not one but two billionaires lusting after both your body and your genius brain?! Wait. Sorry. I know on the surface it would seem like every girl's dream, but I can totally see how this can be pretty overwhelming to deal with. So, what happened on Friday night after the restaurant? Brendan wanted to take you back to his mansion, didn't he?”
“He did.”
“Oh my God, and did you let him?!”
“No!”
“Thank God. Did you let him kiss you goodnight?”
“Nope. I didn't even let him give me a peck on the cheek. Even that would have felt like I was cheating on Asher. Not that Asher and I are together. Although, it feels like we are. Ugh! You know what I mean! Anyway, I told you already, my interest in Brendan was strictly professional.”
“But, you knew from the start that his interest wasn't strictly professional, didn’t ya?”
“Yeah, and I feel bad about that. But I really wanted to see what kind of job offer he would make me.”
“And, what kind of offer did he make?”
“A very tempting one, I'll say that much. He's offered me a higher salary than Asher pays me, a corner office with a killer view, bonuses, and shares in his company, and a company car—a luxury vehicle from his friend's dealership.”
“Wow. That does sound tempting.”
“It is. But the truth is, I really love working here. That has nothing to do with my personal feelings for Asher. I mean that on a strictly professional level. The camaraderie here is fantastic, the team is inspiring and passionate, there’s no backstabbing, and Asher is a brilliant leader. I feel like I could really grow and develop here and build a stellar career for myself.”
“Well, here's what I think you should do. Go and talk to Asher. Tell him exactly what Brendan has offered you. Leave out the romantic interest bit, obviously, keep it professional. But tell him that this is what's waiting for you. See if he makes a counter-offer to keep you in his company.
“I mean, yes, you love the environment there, and you're working with a great team, but it sounds like Savage would be bumping you a few rungs up the ladder. More than you could achieve even after a few years at Sinclair.
“Just keep it as professional as you can. Don't let your feelings for Asher—or his feelings for you—get in the way.”
“You're right. You're exactly right. That's exactly what I'm going to do. Thanks, Megs. I'm so glad I can always count on you. You rock.”
“Yes, yes I do!” she chided. “Anything for my best friend. Now, go! You walk right in there and let Asher know what's what.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks again! Bye.”
“And, call me later. Bye.”
I put my phone away, exited the stall, an
d went straight to the mirror to clean up my face and touch-up my makeup.
“All right, Lilah,” I said to my reflection in the mirror, “you can do this. You can do this!”
I marched out of the restroom and headed straight to Asher's office. I knocked on the door and stood tapping my foot impatiently outside.
“Come in,” his voice echoed through the door.
I flung open the door and strode in with confidence.
“Lilah,” he stated, sounding and looking surprised and a little nervous. “Did you come back for the key?”
I closed the door behind me, marched straight up to his desk, sat down, and explained in clear terms everything Brendan Savage had offered me. I also told him that I loved working at Sinclair, but that, as any reasonable person could understand, Savage's offer was beyond tempting. I informed him that he'd need to make some concessions to keep me at Sinclair.
He sat in silence for a while after I'd explained everything to him, simply nodding with his hands clasped together on his desk. I could see that he was contemplating everything I'd just told him. Eventually, he spoke.
“Very well,” he said. “I'll match Savage's offer, term for term, to keep you here. With exception of the corner office, as that would mean displacing someone who has been here far longer than you. I hope you understand that I can't and won’t do that. Talent is important, but so is seniority. I'm not going to sell someone out who has been loyal to this company for years just to appease the demands of someone who has just arrived.”
I nodded. “I can understand that and I wouldn’t want you to. I'll stay then.”
“Good. We need you here.”
“I know you do.”
He chuckled. “Don't get too big for your boots now, Lilah. You're extremely talented, but it's still early. A lot of people get burned out in this line of work. Your streak of genius might not last forever.”
“Well, it's burning brightly now, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible.”
“I hope you do. Well, now that we've cleared everything up, is there anything else you'd like?”
“Yes, there is one more thing.”
“Name it.”
“The relationship between you and I . . . I know we’ve had this talk before, but it’s just too much to navigate while trying to balance with work. We're going to have to keep things strictly professional. And before you ask, no, it has absolutely nothing to do with Savage. I have no romantic interest in that man whatsoever. But I'm here for the sake of my career, and my career is always going to come first. Always. Can you understand?”
I recognized a flicker of pain concealed beneath his calm expression. It was the same pain I felt twisting my insides like the blade of a rusty knife. This was how it had to be, though.
“I understand. Strictly professional,” he said in a wounded, soft voice.
“All right then. If you’d be so kind as to give me the key, I’ll return it at the meeting later.”
Asher handed over the key, I turned on my heels and left, with my mouth dry and my heart pounding.
It was done.
***
The rest of my day had been nonstop meetings and conference calls with Paris. I was glad to be home and looking forward to unwinding. I had just stepped out of the shower when my phone buzzed. I figured it would be Meg since I had promised I’d call her to fill her in on how everything had gone. I wrapped a towel around myself and picked it up. On cue, it was her. I opened the message and read it.
You guys at Sinclair are in hot water, Lilah. Do you know anything about this??
Attached to the message was a link to a blog post which I opened immediately. The title hit me like an uppercut to the chin.
“Sinclair Agency Posts Transphobic Tweet and Sets off Twitter Storm!”
What the hell? That wasn’t what I was expecting. It was bad, really bad. I typed out a quick response to Meg.
Thanks for the heads up. I do NOT know anything about this, but I suspect Brendan Savage might—and I intend to find out exactly who is behind this. Looks like I’m going to have to fill you in later. I have a phone call to make.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Asher
My palms were clammy and cold as I clicked on the link Lilah had just sent me. The headline alone was enough to send chills of dread running down my spine: “Sinclair Agency Posts Transphobic Tweet and Sets off Twitter Storm!”
Of course, the first thing I'd done when Lilah had sent me the link was log on to Sinclair's official Twitter account and delete the offending tweet. It contained a phrase we'd been tossing around for one of the new campaigns for a new men's cologne.
The offending phrase had been: “Conjures up images of a time when men were men.” It had only been a rough idea, part of a larger ad idea that wouldn’t have been offensive in the least had it been seen in the context of the other ad which referred to dignity, responsibility, hard work, and such. It had nothing at all to do with gender.
Someone in our company, however, had taken that isolated phrase and tweeted it. Minutes later, a transgendered blogger had caught wind of it and hammered out what I could only imagine could have been a sensationalist piece.
Luckily, the blogger didn't have many followers, and it appeared that nothing had gone viral—yet.
I hoped it would stay that way. I sent a private message to the blogger, explaining how the phrase had been taken entirely out of context, and that when taken in context, there was nothing that referred to gender, and I asked very nicely that they take their article down. I waited for an hour. The message had been marked as read, but no reply came. It became apparent that the blogger wasn't going to take their article down.
At that point, all I could do was wait. Wait and pray the situation did not go viral because then we'd have a real mess on our hands. I shot Lilah a text to keep her up to date on what I hadn’t heard from the blogger.
Keep me posted. She’d texted back.
I found my thoughts drifting to my conversation with Lilah in my office that morning. It had been good to clear the air between us, and I'd been relieved to find out that she hadn’t been romantically involved with Savage in any way. I was especially reassured by the way she’d said she had absolutely no interest in him. I wondered what that meant for me, about me.
Did it mean she had strong feelings for me? Is that why Savage never stood a chance? But if it did, why did she insist on keeping our relationship strictly professional? That had been the hardest of her demands to give in to. The other things—the salary, the company car, the promotion—they'd been easy. She was talented enough to deserve it all, even if she had only been at the company for a short time.
But in that short time, she'd done way more than merely turn my company's fortunes around. She'd turned my life around, inside out, and upside down.
I could have sworn that these intense feelings she'd awoken in me weren't one-sided. I knew it wasn't just me! It was there in her eyes; I could see it every time she looked at me. I felt it when we kissed, when we touched. That’s not something you can fake.
Even though her words had said that she wanted nothing to do with me, her eyes conveyed an entirely different message.
But despite the connection I’d felt even as she told me, despite what I had seen in her eyes, what could I do? She had laid down her demands—a strictly professional relationship between us being one of them—and that was that. I had to honor her wishes and pray someday she’d change her mind.
I wasn't sure how I was going to cope. It wasn't something I had much experience with. Usually, it was a girl falling for me and leaving me to be the one who had to draw a line or end the relationship. The whole experience was new to me. I'd never felt like this with anyone else.
I knew, somehow, I just knew she felt the same. It was the strongest gut feeling I’d ever known. But until she would admit it, I was at her mercy. I was her boss, nothing more.
I sighed, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and wen
t up to my turret to look at the stars.
***
I called Lilah into my office first thing that morning to talk about the Twitter disaster. As far as I knew, nobody else in the office knew about it. Luckily, nothing had gone viral just yet. It seemed that Lilah and I were the only ones aware of the near catastrophe, and I intended to keep it that way.
“Morning, Asher,” she said as she stepped in. “You wanted to see me?”
She seemed to be playing things very coolly, keeping a decent distance between herself and me. All I could do was to play along and try to keep my burning desires bottled up. Which was precisely why I avoided making eye contact with her for longer than a millisecond.
“Have a seat.”
“So, it's about the tweet, right?”
“Yup. In all the panic last night, I forgot to ask how you found out about it?”
“My best friend Meg, she's an attorney. Last night she was doing some research for a case she’s working on regarding transgender issues. When she saw the Sinclair name pop up on a transgender message board, she contacted me.”
“That was a lucky break for us. Thanks to her quick response, and yours, I was able to delete the tweet quickly enough. Nothing has gone viral.”
“Good. But how in the hell did that get tweeted to begin with? That campaign isn't even finalized yet!”
“Exactly. And I have no idea how that got out,” I explained.
“Who has access to that Twitter account?”
“Myself, Janice, and all of the senior members of the team.”
“Have you questioned any of them yet?” she asked.
“Not yet. I thought I'd speak to you first. Got any theories?”
It looked like she wanted to say something, and she opened her mouth—then paused.
“Aside from the obvious theory that we’re being sabotaged . . . no, not really,” she said.
I stared at her for a while, long enough to make her squirm uncomfortably in the chair.
“All right then,” I said slowly. “I’ll let you get to work. I'll talk to each member of the senior team individually and see what I can find out. Thanks for your help—and thanks again for bringing that tweet to my attention so quickly.”