I look at the paper, then back up at Kaladin. “Sir, I’m not trying to pass the buck here, but wouldn’t it be better for you or your people to reach out to her? What incentive does she have to say yes to me?”
“I’m making you do this because it’s your issue, and you need to prove you’re willing to take steps to fix it,” he says. “I won’t make you contact this woman. You need to decide what you’re willing to do to help yourself. That’s why you need to be the one to reach out.”
I nod. “That’s fair. But what I mean is…um…” I search for the right way to remind him people don’t work for free, but he’s ahead of me.
He picks up a business card and hands it to me. “When you’re ready to discuss terms with her, have her call that number. I’m sure she’ll find our offer more than generous.”
I look at the card. It’s for someone in HR.
“Is…that all?” I ask. I still don’t believe I may get out of this office without him tearing me a new asshole.
“That’s all for me,” he says. “Go see Cedric in PR before you leave, though. He needs to discuss how to handle the media questions about tonight’s incident.”
I groan inwardly. I knew it wouldn’t be that simple, but in all honesty, I’m still getting off far easier than I should.
I rise. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
He nods. “I knew we’d have some work to do when I signed you, Ash, but I only give so many chances.”
He says the words calmly enough, but I hear the ultimatum.
Get my head on straight or prepare to be cut loose.
Chapter 2
Gray
I’ve been staring at my computer screen for fifteen minutes. I know because it’s set to go to sleep after that long, and it just went blank.
The empty document reappears and stares judgmentally at me when I jiggle the mouse, each blink of the cursor a finger tap on the desk.
I wanted to start writing a book based on my recent research study today, but it’s not happening, and I grimace at the waste of time.
It’s the fourth week of classes, and it’s that sweet spot between the first few weeks of the semester, when there’s a constant stream of students coming by for signatures to add a class or to ask questions that are answered in the syllabus, and the sixth week when students realize they’re not prepared for their first exam. For the next week or two, my office hours will be sparsely attended, so I need to use them productively.
I type the word “The.” I have no idea what comes next, but lots of sentences begin with the word “the,” so I’m playing the odds.
I’m about to delete the word when a tall form fills my doorway. The young man in the threshold must be almost six and a half feet tall, and his shoulders are so broad they nearly touch the sides of the doorjamb. He wears loose jeans and a hoodie with the hood pulled over his head.
I assume he’s a football player, and I mentally scan the room in my Introduction to Communication course, trying to picture who this could be. I’m good about knowing the names of the students in my smaller seminar classes by the end of the first week, but I’ll be lucky if I remember half the faces in my three hundred-person COMM 1000 lecture before the end of the semester.
The young man steps into the room, filling it with his presence, and I feel a tingle up my spine. It’s that tingle a woman gets when she’s facing a strange man, and instinct tells her to run while years of social grooming tell her not to make a scene. There’s something oddly…overwhelming about this guy.
I close my laptop and smile up at the young man, social grooming winning out. “Can I help you?”
“Dr. Mackey?” he asks, only half looking up.
“Yes.”
“I was wondering if I can have a few minutes of your time.”
I raise a brow. Maybe a bit too polite for a football player? His voice is soft and deep, and something about it soothes my worries.
“That’s what my office hours are for,” I say. “Have a seat.”
The kid glances down either side of the hall before coming in and closing the door behind him. The closed door puts me on edge again, and I consider reaching into my purse to thread my keys through my fingers, just in case. The guy seems nervous, and that sets off alarm bells.
When he finally pulls his hood back, I have to suppress my shock.
