Bryce: Ex-Business: An Ex-Club Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  I nod, suspecting as much, but too tactful to have said it. “Ours have been stagnant for a while, only getting bumps during Girl Next Door month.” The truth is, we’re doing okay at Ideal Gentlemen, but no need to rub it in.

  Edie wrinkles her nose with distaste, but a smile comes to her lips. “I guess no matter what, sex sells.”

  “Can’t argue with that one,” I say with a grin. “Either way, as far as Ideal Gentlemen, it’s probably not enough to create a feeding frenzy or even lure a small bite from a passing fish, not with all the other magazines that will also be going on the market. I personally have enough to keep us going for a few months.”

  “Same here,” Edie says just as resigned.

  She settles back in her chair with her drink in her hand and turns down her mouth. “Mom suggested I revamp the magazine. Turn it into something different. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but Conniver has been such a hindrance about things. No way would they allow me to change up the format that has been working fine for decades now. Especially when they hear her suggestions. Nude beaches? Because there’s such a large market for that,” she adds sarcastically.

  “Hmm, tell me more,” I say, leaning in with suggestive interest.

  Edie laughs and grabs her napkin to fling at me. “Can we stay on topic? Serious topic?”

  “Alright, let’s look at our options,” I say, grabbing my drink and sitting back in my chair. “One, we use all our funds to buy back our respective magazines and cross our fingers that Conniver is that easily suckered. Two, we target every bank, investor, financier, venture capitalist we know and sing and dance for our food.”

  Edie hiccups a laugh at that, taking a long swallow of her Bloody Mary.

  “Three…we could form our own media conglomerate?”

  She considers that one with interest. “With only two magazines?”

  “We could get others to join. I’m sure there will be several being let go who would be champing at the bit to work with us.”

  “We could call the corporation Reject Media,” she says with a laugh.

  “It has a certain ring to it.”

  “But will they have the funding? And lasting power? I mean, we both went to business school, I can already see them making a case study out of this. Two magazines let go by their corporate overlord trying to form a new entity?”

  “Maybe that was the problem, a corporate overlord. We’d be more of a…co-op. Any magazine that joined would have to meet certain requirements, maybe no topical duplication, so not another men’s or women’s magazine, at least in the beginning. Then we’d pool our resources.”

  “Which gets us back to the problem of funding,” Edie says, but I note the way she leans in, her attention rapt. Her tendency to play devil’s advocate works, like a sounding board for me to bounce ideas off of and see if they stick.

  I knew we worked well together.

  “So we start small like our magazines did in the beginning. Build back up from there. It worked well enough the first time around, enough to be bought out by a larger corporation. But this time we don’t sell out, we grow organically, maybe even in coordination, cross-advertising, even cross-editorials.”

  “Synergy,” Edie teases with a grin, but I can see the gleam of excitement in her eyes.

  “For now, I’ll be happy with the word partnership,” I say with a smile of my own.

  I’ll let her interpret that any way she wishes.

  For now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Edie

  Bryce and I are sitting on the couch in his apartment with two orders of pizza because we couldn’t decide on toppings. The food at brunch rapidly went cold, and thus to waste, as we enthusiastically cultivated the seedlings of this little plan of ours.

  Now, we’re hungry again.

  “White pizza with or without olives is a New York classic,” I say before taking a bite of mine—definitely with olives.

  “There is nothing more classic than a greasy slice of cheese, pepperoni thrown in for flair,” he counters before taking a bit of his.

  “Are you sure you’re not just rebelling against your patrician upbringing?”

  “Don’t bring my WASPiness into this debate,” Bryce argues around his slice.

  I take a sip of the beer from the six-pack he also bought.

  “Okay, so before we create the corporation we quietly put feelers out this week before Conniver makes everything official. With soft assurances, we can probably get some funding, pool our resources to buy back our titles, and work from there.”

  “Couldn’t be easier,” Bryce says in that carefree way that contrasts so heavily with my more pragmatic point of view.

  “Right, it’s no big deal,” I retort with a laugh. “Just creating a publishing empire out of nothing. Watch out Conde Nast, Time Inc., and Hearst!”

  “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship…with benefits,” Bryce says in a terrible Humphrey Bogart imitation.

  I smile and shake my head in wonder before taking another bite of pizza.

  “You know, it means we’ll probably have to share office space,” he says with a grin before taking another bite.

  “I mean…it would save money,” I say diplomatically.

  “And avoid the hassle of commute for any afternoon delights,” he says just as diplomatically.

  I breathe out a laugh and shake my head again. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “You knew this about me when you moved in across the hall, Edie.”

  “Oh, here we go. I should have known this would come up,” I groan. I sit up straighter and turn to face him, using what’s left of my pizza to emphasize my point. “First of all, I didn’t move in across from you. I moved in to the same building where Kitty Edelman was living.”

  “Smart minds think alike.”

  “Exactly,” I insist. “As for moving in across from you, it was the only unit available.”

  To my surprise, Bryce coughs out a laugh. “Really? In a building with fifty floors and how many units on each floor? And that was the only—”

  “The only one that fit my needs.”

  “Exactly,” he says smoothly, sporting a smug grin on his face.

  “Oh, shut up,” I protest using the back of my wrist to hit his arm so I don’t get white pizza all over his shirt.

  He smiles and twists to lean on one elbow to face me. “I hope this consolation prize is worth it, considering Kitty is no longer a viable option. You should have checked with me before moving in. I could have warned you she never seems to make an appearance.”

  “I know, right? And doesn’t she live only a few floors above us?” I say. “I suspect it’s this Spanish soccer player she’s been involved with. She probably just spends all her time at his place.”

  “Edie the stalker,” he says, giving me a mockingly disapproving look.

  “Oh stop, like you don’t have all her details memorized as well. I’ve seen her picture. Quite the looker.”

  “If you’re into the leggy blonde with large breasts and a habit of wearing short skirts type,” he scoffs.

  I give him a dry look.

  “Anyway, even if she wasn’t young enough to give me a headache just thinking about it, it was pointless to move here.” He waggles his eyebrows. “At least until my new neighbor moved in across the hall.”

  I hide my begrudging smile behind my pizza. “So you’re okay with joining forces? And it’s not just to…get into my pants right?”

  Bryce exhales a laugh as he grabs another slice. “Edie, while you do indeed have a magical pussy, I’m pretty sure there was a class back in business school on proper collateral, and that ain’t it.”

  “I must have missed that course,” I say, glaring at him.

  “Which now has me worrying whether it’s my magical dick you’re after or my magazine,” he says, pulling back with a wary look.

  I laugh and kick my foot out, then reach for another slice.

  “Wha
t was it like starting your own magazine?” I ask, feeling slightly envious. As many issues as I have with my mother, I do admire her entrepreneurial ambition to build something from the ground up—discounting her methodologies, of course. It’s one thing to take over an established brand. It’s something completely different to both create it and then nurture it into a success. “It must have been nice to start something from nothing.”

  Bryce leans back against the sofa and takes a bite of pizza to ponder that one. “I just wanted something of mine, not tied to the Wilmington brand, a business that I started on my own. I suppose I can’t defy all the Wilmington genes in that respect. As for why a magazine? It started from an obsession with James Bond. Everything about him from the clothes, to the cars to the gadgets…his way with women. I wanted to be like that, and I knew other men did too.”

  “I guess we really are just selling the fantasy,” I say, leaning my head on my hand.

  Bryce snorts out a laugh.

  “What?” I ask, tilting my head back up. “Don’t tell me you honestly believe there are men out there who actually are like James Bond.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Let’s just say lesson number one, whatever we name this thing, buy all the websites, social media, everything. Even those that have any similarity to the name.”

  A slow smile spreads my lips. “That sounds like a story.”

  “One I could create an entire business school course around—how to fuck up your brand in one easy step.”

  I laugh. “Okay, now you have to tell me.”

  He gives a self-deprecating laugh and hangs his head. After a moment he pops back up to give me a sardonic smile. “Ideal Gentlemen. I thought it was a stroke of luck that it wasn’t taken. Because obviously it was so fitting for yours truly,” he says with a grin.

  I roll my eyes and poke him to continue.

  “No sooner had I bought the domain, put in all the corporate paperwork, yadda, yadda, yadda…then bam! Ideal Gentleman comes onto the scene.”

  “And,” I prod when he doesn’t explain.

  The grin on his face turns into a wry smile. “Let’s just say that should this endeavor of ours fail to take off, I know exactly where to go to sell my services as a gigolo.”

  It takes me a second to put it together. “You’re kidding!” I bite hard on my lips, but they can’t contain the laughter that escapes.

  “I kid you not, Edie,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Now the laughter is impossible to hold back. “Bryce, how could you have missed that?”

  “Thank you Miss Hindsight,” he retorts. “It cost me a fortune to buy the domain from them, which did nothing to soothe the bruises my ego suffered at the hands of a few acquaintances and old nemeses.”

  “A male escort site,” I muse. “Hopefully of the higher-paid type considering the name. Then at least it might have some connection—”

  “Stop right there.”

  “What?” I say, still laughing. “They have to look good, dress nicely, doesn’t hurt to have a nice car. Most importantly, have a way with the ladies—or men?”

  Bryce scowls at me.

  But this is too good for me not to milk it a little bit.

  “In fact, I’d bet quite a few unsuspecting men have gone searching the internet on how to be a male escort and unwittingly ended up on Ideal Gentlemen, so it’s actually a godsend.”

  “That’s right, kick me while I’m baring my soul to you,” he protests with overt angst.

  “Oh come on, Bryce. Even you have to laugh at it by now.”

  He holds firm just a bit longer before relenting, laughing along with me.

  “Honestly, the look on Dad’s face alone would have made it worth keeping around. His son somehow embroiled with a male escort service? The Wilmington patriarchy would cause a minor quake in the cemetery from them collectively turning over in their graves.

  “Is he really that bad?” I ask, wondering what it’s like to have parents that are embarrassed by literally anything.

  “You should have seen his reaction when I told him I wanted to start a men’s magazine. Sex for money would give him an aneurism.”

  “I guess rookie mistakes are par for course in the business world.”

  “I doubt the indomitable Lola Hartman has ever screwed up that badly.”

  “You’ve obviously never accidentally broken the coffee machine in the office,” I say, remembering one particular incident during my internship years at Contempo.

  Bryce places a hand against his chest in horror. “Good God, woman! That’s a pariah-level offense in the business world.”

  “And don’t I know it.”

  “Well, now I don’t feel so bad,” he says.

  “Indeed, sex for money has nothing on denying an entire office their daily dose of caffeine.”

  He lifts his bottle toward me, and I tap mine to his, then we both laugh before sipping.

  “Speaking of offices,” he says leaning in closer. “Tomorrow is another workday.”

  “So it is.”

  “I think,” he begins, scooting in closer. “We should change our morning routine.”

  “Do you?” I say with a slow smile.

  “I do.” He’s now mere inches from me. “I think you should spend the night. And no, that wasn’t a suggestion. It was a request.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is,” he says. His eyes have that look that colored them the last time I was on his couch. Predatory…in the sexiest way possible. “And I want you right there next to me when I wake up.”

  “What about my morning shower?”

  “I’ll take care of that,” He says with a grin.

  “And getting dressed.”

  “Ditto.”

  “And my morning coffee?”

  “Obviously, I’ll be handling that from now on.”

  I purse my lips into a smile.

  “Is this part of our merger negotiations?”

  “No negotiating. It’s part of the bold print. You, in my bed, period.”

  “And what do I get as collateral?”

  “I think you already know. And if you need reminding, I’m more than happy to demonstrate right now. In fact, I insist. We’re going to bed.”

  “Okay, partner.”

  “Tonight…I’m the boss.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bryce

  I’m the first to wake up the next morning. I squint at the clock just to estimate how much more time I have with Edie. Despite how easily she gives in to my demands in the bedroom—a nice twist on the norm that I am personally thrilled about—I know she’ll be a stickler about staying on schedule when it comes to the workday.

  It’s only a little after seven, which gives me at least a good hour, more if she takes me up on helping her with her morning routines. A thought which puts me right back into boss mode again.

  “I know you’re up,” Edie says against my chest.

  I smile toward the ceiling. “I had to make sure you didn’t try another sneak escape in the wee hours of the morning.”

  “You better have some damn good coffee.”

  “I have damn good everything,” I say, giving her a squeeze with the arm wrapped around her, causing her to laugh against my chest. “Speaking of which, I think it’s bath time.”

  “Bryce,” she groans. “That’s such a tawdry way of putting it. I’m not five years old.”

  “Get set to get wet? The hour for the shower? Time for me to lather you up and wipe you clean.”

  “You have this way of turning the most innocent thing into something deviant.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” I say in a suggestive tone.

  Edie laughs against me as she curls in closer. “I do have to sneak back across the hallway to get a change of clothes.”

  “Hmm,” I muse.

  “Hmm? I think you mean, okay, I give you permission, Edie,” she sasses.

  “As
much as I like the way you acknowledge my authority, I’m just picturing you in my clothes and I don’t exactly hate it.”

  “You’re the one who keeps urging me to wear dresses,” she sits up and stares down at me with wide eyes. “Wait, is this your way of telling me something, Bryce? Do you have a secret stash of women’s clothing hidden somewhere?”

  I look up at her with amusement. But that amusement is heavily overshadowed by another emotion running through me as I stare at her naked body in the faded light of the morning. Honestly, as much as I like imagining her in my clothes, it has nothing on her in all her naked glory.

  “Stop ogling me you perv,” she says, tweaking my nipple.

  “Then stop flaunting your goods, you shameless harlot.”

  “I guess that’s my cue to get dressed,” she says, quickly sliding away and hopping out of bed.

  “Wait!” I say with alarm, causing her to jump and freeze in panic as she turns back to me.

  “What?” She asks, staring at me with a look on her face wondering what the emergency is.

  I laugh softly. “Nothing, I just wanted to get a good last look at you naked.”

  “Asshole,” she retorts, reaching for the thing nearest her, which is the shirt she practically ripped off me last night, and throwing it at me.

  “Ah, perfect,” I say, shaking it out. It’s a casual, white button-down shirt. “I think this will do for a quick run to raid your closet.”

  She crosses her arms and glares at me.

  “Oh, don’t look at me that way,” I say with a pout, secretly loving the way the growing light caresses every curve of her body. “You should be flattered I like seeing you in your full glory.”

  “You really know how to win a girl over, Bryce,” she says in a dry tone.

  “What if I begged,” I say. “Oh wait, I now remember you only bow to my will when I’m demanding. In which case, I order you to wear my shirt, and nothing but my shirt for the daring trek to your apartment and back again.”

  Edie works her jaw, still glaring at me, though I can already see her ceding the point to me.

  “Come on, it’ll be sexy. You know it,” I add with a grin.