Inside Affair

by Ella Frank

  Inside Affair

  Prime Time Series #1

  Ella Frank

  Copyright © 2020 by Ella Frank

  www.ellafrank.com

  Edited by Arran McNicol

  Cover Design: By Hang Le

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Also by Ella Frank

  Dedication

  1. Xander

  2. Sean

  3. Xander

  4. Sean

  5. Xander

  6. Sean

  7. Xander

  8. Sean

  9. Xander

  10. Sean

  11. Xander

  12. Sean

  13. Xander

  14. Sean

  15. Xander

  16. Sean

  17. Xander

  18. Sean

  19. Xander

  20. Sean

  21. Sean

  22. Xander

  23. Sean

  24. Xander

  25. Sean

  26. Xander

  27. Xander

  28. Sean

  29. Xander

  30. Sean

  31. Xander

  32. Sean

  33. Xander

  34. Sean

  35. Xander

  36. Sean

  37. Xander

  38. Sean

  39. Xander

  40. Sean

  41. Xander

  42. Sean

  43. Xander

  Thank You

  About the Author

  Synopsis

  Xander

  If I had to describe Sean Bailey, it would be: a surly, temperamental pain in my ass. Never in that equation would I ever include the word boyfriend—and not just because he’s straight.

  The older brother of my life-long best friend, Sean is a detective for the Chicago PD, and is also known as Detective “Dick” for being...well, a surly, temperamental pain in everyone’s ass. He also happens to be the best they have, which is why I find myself on his doorstep the night my life is threatened by an anonymous stalker.

  I only wanted the name of a bodyguard; I didn’t expect for Sean to volunteer for the job. Now, not only do I have a bodyguard, I also have a fake boyfriend.

  Sean

  It must be so hard to be Alexander Thorne, the number one prime-time news anchor in the country, with millions of dollars and a car that costs more than my house. I mean, I’m allowed to give him a hard time about it, but when some creep decides to cross the line and go after him, they’re gonna have to answer to me.

  Going undercover has never been an issue in the past, so I don’t see why there’d be a problem now. Xander and I have known each other for years, so this should be a breeze. Except suddenly my stomach’s flipping when he looks my way, and my body comes alive whenever he brushes by me. I know I’m good at my job and playing a character and all, but this is getting out of hand.

  I can’t be sure that either of us are playing anymore.

  Also by Ella Frank

  The Exquisite Series

  Exquisite

  Entice

  Edible

  The Temptation Series

  Try

  Take

  Trust

  Tease

  Tate

  True

  Confessions Series

  Confessions: Robbie

  Confessions: Julien

  Confessions: Priest

  Confessions: The Princess, The Prick & The Priest

  Confessions: Henri

  Confessions: Bailey

  Sunset Cove Series

  Finley

  Devil’s Kiss

  Masters Among Monsters Series

  Alasdair

  Isadora

  Thanos

  Standalones

  Blind Obsession

  Veiled Innocence

  PresLocke Series

  Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

  ACED

  LOCKED

  WEDLOCKED

  Fallen Angel Series

  Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

  HALO

  VIPER

  ANGEL

  An Affair In Paris

  Elite Series

  Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

  Danger Zone

  Need For Speed

  Co-Authored with Brooke Blaine

  Sex Addict

  Shiver

  Wrapped Up in You

  All I Want for Christmas…Is My Sister’s Boyfriend

  Dedication

  Sometimes the most interesting people are

  right in front of you.

  It just takes something monumental to make you see.

  ~ Xander

  1

  Xander

  “THAT’S ALL FROM us here at Global News on this Thursday evening. I’m Alexander Thorne, thank you for watching and good night.”

  Aiming my familiar smile toward camera one, I watched the final words on the teleprompter disappear and then heard in my ear, “Aaaand we’re out. You’re all clear.”

  I nodded toward the cameramen, indicating we were good to go, then shut my laptop as the door to the studio was pulled open and Jim Berkel—my executive producer—walked inside.

  With his headpiece still in place but the microphone now shut off, he crossed the floor with a tight expression on his exhausted face and tried for a smile, which he failed at miserably.

  “Good show tonight. Nice work. Especially the A and C blocks. They were very smooth.”

  I gathered up the papers in front of me and eyed my EP closely. Jim and I had worked together for nearly six years now, him in my ear feeding me the most important facts and information about some of the biggest news events the country had ever seen. But in all the time that I’d known him, I couldn’t once remember him kissing my ass quite so spectacularly after a run-of-the-mill broadcast.

  Over the last twenty-four hours, nothing catastrophic had happened, meaning the stories we’d run with tonight hadn’t been last minute and the material had been well prepared. So the grim line to his mouth and stress lurking in his weary eyes could only mean one thing—something was up in house. Something I wasn’t going to like.

  “I agree, it was a good night. And as much as I appreciate your post-show wrap-up and review, why don’t you stop buttering me up and tell me the real reason you’re in here?”

  “That is the real reason.”

  “Somehow, I sincerely doubt that.” I pushed back from my desk, got to my feet, and pulled the earpiece from my ear. “You only ever rush in here after a show if I mess up or if Marcus is on the warpath—”

  “Marcus wants to speak to you in his office.”

  Damn it. I hated being right. But if Marcus St. James, the president of the news division, wanted to speak to you privately, it was never about anything good. “Why?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Do you really not know? Or know and just don’t want to tell me?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Not really. If Marcus called, you answered—that was just the way it went, even if your name was number one in the news world. “Tell him I’ll be up once I change.”

  “He said now.”

  Okay, then. I knew better than anyone else that if Marcus said jump, your only response better be: how high.

  I unclipped my mic and earpiece and handed it to Jim as we exited the studio. Now that the night was winding down—well, our portion of it—the newsroom was a muted version of itself. Heads wer
e bent over keyboards and eyes were glued to computer screens as everyone wrapped up their work for the evening, preparing to leave in the next hour or so. But as I passed by my assistant’s desk, Ryan looked up and pointed his pen in my direction.

  “Marcus—”

  “Wants to see me, I know.”

  Ryan glanced at Jim, who was trailing my every step, and then added, “Yes, but he said alone.”

  Fantastic. That didn’t bode well at all. This seemingly straightforward night was getting more cryptic and annoying as it went along. There were only two reasons a person was ever called into Marcus St. James’s office, and one usually ended with the person never setting foot in the building again.

  But I hadn’t done anything wrong, not that I could recall, so what the Almighty upstairs wanted with me was anyone’s guess.

  “Right. Tell him I’m on my way up, then, would you?”

  As I walked off toward the double doors of the newsroom, I heard Ryan call out, “Sure thing, boss.” I pushed through them and made a beeline for the elevators.

  Marcus’s office was two floors up, and as I got in and punched his number, I glanced at my watch. It was just going on six fifteen, and it was coming up on the end of my workday.

  When the doors slid open and I stepped out into the hall, a wall-sized poster of my face with Global News with Alexander Thorne splashed across the image greeted me. It was the new promo that the station was rolling out for the summer, and as I stood there sizing myself up, I decided they hadn’t done a bad job.

  With my new studio set of the world highlighted in blue and white lights behind me, it brought out my eyes and the silver highlights of my dark hair. All in all, it looked classy, sophisticated, worldly. In other words, exactly what the network had been going for.

  I headed down the hall to Marcus’s office, passing by the desk where Carmen, his assistant, usually sat. It seemed she’d been dismissed for the evening, judging by the empty seat and otherwise sparse floor, and as I reached his office door, all I could think was lucky Carmen.

  I took a second to brace myself, and then I knocked.

  “It’s open.”

  I pushed open the door and stepped inside the one place in the building I actively tried to avoid, and when my eyes landed on the man seated behind the ostentatious desk, I waited for Marcus to look up and acknowledge me. He didn’t.

  “You’re late. The broadcast finished fifteen minutes ago.”

  My spine stiffened at the accusatory tone. His voice was that of a school principal addressing a petulant child, as opposed to the network and country’s number one news anchorman.

  When I didn’t immediately reply, Marcus finally looked up from whatever it was he’d been reading and pinned me with an expectant look. But I’d be damned if I apologized.

  “It took me a couple of minutes to un-mic and get up here.”

  “I see.” Marcus pushed back from the desk and got to his feet, and at six foot and a whole lot of extra inches, he was an imposing figure to say the least. Add in his autocratic demeanor, cunning eyes, and golden head of hair, and he reminded me of a lion sizing up his next meal.

  At forty-two, Marcus was considered young in the world of broadcasting. But that hadn’t stopped him from earning a reputation for being cutthroat and tenacious when it came to his job. He had a stare that could cut glass and a disposition that left you ice cold, and in all the time that I had known him, I couldn’t once remember seeing him smile.

  “You had a good show tonight.” The statement was more factual than complimentary, as he walked around his desk.

  “I did.” I left it at that, because really, I didn’t owe him anything else. I’d been working at ENN for years now—nearly ten—and I knew my worth, just as Marcus did. So if he had an issue, or something on his mind, then he could damn well say it.

  Marcus clasped his hands behind his back as he stopped in front of me. “There’s no easy way to say this—”

  “Then how about you just say it?” My frosty tone had Marcus narrowing his eyes, but after being summoned up here like a level-one intern, my patience was growing thin.

  “Very well. A threat was made against you this morning on the station’s website.”

  Okay. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. A thorough dress-down over something I did maybe, but… “A threat?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, he definitely had my attention now. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had threats made against me in the past. I was an out gay news anchor, so it kind of came with the territory, whether it be about the stories I reported or my personal life. But what was different this time was that Marcus had called me into his office. He’d never done that before.

  “That’s nothing new,” I pointed out.

  “No, it’s not. But the nature of this threat is, and this is the third one you’ve received in a matter of days. From the same person.”

  Hang on a minute. “There’s been more than one? How did I not know about this if it’s been going on for days?”

  “There’s been three, and the first one came in on Monday.”

  “Why wasn’t I told then?”

  “Because I wasn’t convinced it was serious then.”

  “And you are now?”

  “I am.” Marcus turned to his desk and grabbed up the papers he’d been looking at. “Take a look for yourself.”

  I took the papers from him, zeroing in on the three messages that had been lifted from the ENN Twitter feed and emailed to Marcus.

  MEANT2BMINE: @AlexanderThorne. I saw you on last night’s broadcast. You looking at me, telling me to have a good night, and I knew it was time to finally introduce myself. Time to come out from the shadows and say hello. So, hello, Alexander. I’ll be seeing you soon.

  Message two.

  MEANT2BMINE: @AlexanderThorne. A venti redeye every morning before work. So that’s how you make it through the long hours. I always wondered, you know. But that barista, Kyle? He’s a little too friendly, imo. You might want to tell him that you’re taken. Tell him that you’re mine.

  I swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in the back of my throat and tried to squash down the rising bile. This guy was delusional. But even more alarming, he knew what kind of coffee I drank and where I got it from. How could he know all of that? Unless he’d been…following me.

  But it was the last message that really made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

  MEANT2BMINE: @AlexanderThorne. Why are you making me wait like this? Playing the fucking tease? This distance you’re keeping between us is killing me when you know we should be together! I want to touch you, be with you, Alexander. You’re meant2bmine, and soon you will be.

  “As you can see, the last message is what concerns us the most,” Marcus said, cutting through the panic that was now threatening to overwhelm me. “Whoever this is, the threats are escalating. The tone is much angrier. They want contact, a one-on-one interaction, and they know your address.”

  “Right…” I said as I read my home address on the tweet directly under the last. I walked over to look out the window to the buildings across from Marcus’s office, and for the first time wondered who was over there looking back at me.

  MEANT2BMINE? No, that was just crazy thinking.

  “Look,” Marcus said when I remained silent. “It’s probably just some overzealous fan. But we’re going to need you to take on some security.”

  “Some security?”

  “Yes. Some is the wrong word, though. More like twenty-four-hour security until we work out where these messages are coming from and have them stopped. Don’t worry, you’re insured. It’s all part of your contract.”

  It is? This was the first time I’d heard about it. Then again, I’d never had such a personal threat aimed at me before. Still, the idea of some random stranger following me everywhere… “I don’t know that twenty-four-hour security is necessary. You’re talking a bodyguard? That makes me uncomfortable. Plus, my building is secure�
�”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You don’t care?”

  “No. You’re worth far too much alive for me to care about your comfort level here, Alexander. You need security until this is taken care of, and I don’t give a damn how you feel about that.”

  I could tell by the square set of his jaw that Marcus wasn’t about to budge, and if I really thought about it, he was right. This person knew where I lived. They knew where I worked. And the idea that they’d been watching my every move sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Fine. I’ll hire someone, okay?”

  Marcus opened his mouth to no doubt tell me the company would take care of it, but I quickly cut him off.

  “I’m the one who’s going to be spending all my time with them, so I should get to pick who it is.” I immediately thought about my best friend Bailey and his boyfriend Henri’s new PI company. They might be a good option. But the idea of asking either of them to move in and protect me when they’d just recently moved in with one another somehow felt wrong.