“I will,” I promise as we hit our floor. “Good luck, Valentine.”
In the newsroom—well, let’s just say it’s not called newsroom for nothing. It seems the little white Bug in the parking garage caused quite a stir.
Helen summons me to her office a few hours after I start jotting down my new piece, which I think will be called “What does your car say about him and/or you?”
“I’m kind of jealous of your position right now,” Helen tells me when I walk in.
“What?”
“You look radiant. Look at you! Everyone is talking about you and your Saint. His car downstairs. I’m becoming a bit of a Saint fan.”
“Because we’re being bought by the dad?”
She zips her mouth. She grins. “Tell me all the rumors are true. The three S’s.”
“What?”
“Size, stamina, and seduction.”
“Who said that?” I roll my eyes. “Stop talking about him.”
“Sex symbols are objectified.”
“Off-limits to discuss here from now on, Helen. That piece should be enough. Permission to go work now?”
She waves me off with a chuckle, then calls, “Rachel . . .”
“Yes?”
“Is it true? You’re looking?”
I realize she was joking with me, acting my friend and teasing, because she wants to know.
I look at her, suddenly feeling a like a complete deserter because I’m leaving Edge. Like those rats who instantly jump and leave the sinking ship, rather than staying there and manning it. But I’m so determined to work things out with Malcolm and staying here under his father’s thumb wouldn’t help my cause in the least.
“I won’t work for Malcolm’s father,” I say.
“Does your boyfriend know?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just . . .” I inhale. “Edge won’t be hurting my relationship this time around. I love it here but . . . my relationship with him now comes first. I really want to make it work, Helen. In my gut it just feels so right, if I let him go without a fight I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Her eyes soften, then she shakes her head as if angry at herself. “Enough about this speculating! Get to work.” She snaps her fingers. “But Rachel . . . I don’t think the owners are going to let you go that easy. Noel Saint wants you at Edge.”
“Well, then that’s even more of a reason to leave. He can go BLEEP himself for all I care.”
I go back to my desk and then text, People are dying at the office over my ride
I love it, he writes back. But paying for their funerals is going to consume so much of my time that I’d rather spend it doing something else.
So when can I take your Bug back? You could play a little with me too if you’d like
OMG! I’m such a slut. I did not text him that.
But I did.
I did and he answers, I’m feeling rather playful. Sadly, 9:00 is the best?
SOCIAL MEDIA WHIRL
Before I leave Edge for the day, Valentine updates me on the latest social media whirl after our club sighting.
Latest blog entry from chicagogal243—
Malcolm Saint, our favorite bad boy, in a relationship? So, readers, do you believe that our sexiest bachelor could ever be monogamous? I sure don’t . . .
Twitter:
Spotted this weekend @MalcolmSaint back on with the lying reporter!
She’s SO wrong for you @MalcolmSaint SO WRONG!!!! YOU’RE A PRINCE AND SHE’S A FROG!
On his Interface page:
Saint, my darling! Jeremiah and I sent you an invite to our 1st anniversary—you can bring your friend along.
On Facebook:
Just PM’ed you, S. We’re planning the yearly group trip to Monte Carlo. RSVP soon?
His Instagram:
Your new girl is luscious and lovely! Call me if you want me to meet her and kiss her, give you a little show. CALL ME!
“You’ve hired a team of bodyguards, I hope?” Valentine asks me when he closes the internet search.
“No, but I have a Saint protecting me,” I say, tongue in cheek.
“So it’s a no to that threesome that woman’s offering?” he baits.
“Really, that lady has no clue how full Saint’s hands are going to be with me.”
Valentine laughs, and I shake my head and head to the elevators, smiling to myself. Sin, oh Sin, should I learn to wrestle so I can properly deal with these chicks?
Can’t we just tell them all I’m the one who has dibs on you?
THAT NIGHT
In the newsroom—well, let’s just say it’s not called newsroom for nothing. It seems the little white Bug in the parking garage caused quite a stir.
Helen summons me to her office a few hours after I start jotting down my new piece, which I think will be called “What does your car say about him and/or you?”
“I’m kind of jealous of your position right now,” Helen tells me when I walk in.
“What?”
“You look radiant. Look at you! Everyone is talking about you and your Saint. His car downstairs. I’m becoming a bit of a Saint fan.”
“Because we’re being bought by the dad?”
She zips her mouth. She grins. “Tell me all the rumors are true. The three S’s.”
“What?”
“Size, stamina, and seduction.”
“Who said that?” I roll my eyes. “Stop talking about him.”
“Sex symbols are objectified.”
“Off-limits to discuss here from now on, Helen. That piece should be enough. Permission to go work now?”
She waves me off with a chuckle, then calls, “Rachel . . .”
“Yes?”
“Is it true? You’re looking?”
I realize she was joking with me, acting my friend and teasing, because she wants to know.
I look at her, suddenly feeling a like a complete deserter because I’m leaving Edge. Like those rats who instantly jump and leave the sinking ship, rather than staying there and manning it. But I’m so determined to work things out with Malcolm and staying here under his father’s thumb wouldn’t help my cause in the least.
“I won’t work for Malcolm’s father,” I say.
“Does your boyfriend know?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just . . .” I inhale. “Edge won’t be hurting my relationship this time around. I love it here but . . . my relationship with him now comes first. I really want to make it work, Helen. In my gut it just feels so right, if I let him go without a fight I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Her eyes soften, then she shakes her head as if angry at herself. “Enough about this speculating! Get to work.” She snaps her fingers. “But Rachel . . . I don’t think the owners are going to let you go that easy. Noel Saint wants you at Edge.”
“Well, then that’s even more of a reason to leave. He can go BLEEP himself for all I care.”
I go back to my desk and then text, People are dying at the office over my ride
I love it, he writes back. But paying for their funerals is going to consume so much of my time that I’d rather spend it doing something else.
So when can I take your Bug back? You could play a little with me too if you’d like
OMG! I’m such a slut. I did not text him that.
But I did.
I did and he answers, I’m feeling rather playful. Sadly, 9:00 is the best?
SOCIAL MEDIA WHIRL
Before I leave Edge for the day, Valentine updates me on the latest social media whirl after our club sighting.
Latest blog entry from chicagogal243—
Malcolm Saint, our favorite bad boy, in a relationship? So, readers, do you believe that our sexiest bachelor could ever be monogamous? I sure don’t . . .
Twitter:
Spotted this weekend @MalcolmSaint back on with the lying reporter!
She’s SO wrong for you @MalcolmSaint SO WRONG!!!! YOU’RE A PRINCE AND SHE’S A FROG!
On his Interface page:
Saint, my darling! Jeremiah and I sent you an invite to our 1st anniversary—you can bring your friend along.
On Facebook:
Just PM’ed you, S. We’re planning the yearly group trip to Monte Carlo. RSVP soon?
His Instagram:
Your new girl is luscious and lovely! Call me if you want me to meet her and kiss her, give you a little show. CALL ME!
“You’ve hired a team of bodyguards, I hope?” Valentine asks me when he closes the internet search.
“No, but I have a Saint protecting me,” I say, tongue in cheek.
“So it’s a no to that threesome that woman’s offering?” he baits.
“Really, that lady has no clue how full Saint’s hands are going to be with me.”
Valentine laughs, and I shake my head and head to the elevators, smiling to myself. Sin, oh Sin, should I learn to wrestle so I can properly deal with these chicks?
Can’t we just tell them all I’m the one who has dibs on you?
THAT NIGHT
