It’s followed immediately after by:Where?
I book a hotel room.
9. Jamie
Laura Day's handshake is firm as she says, "Welcome to the team, Jamie."
I smile back at her. Money has been rolling in for weeks now. I got an advance on a book deal. I’m commanding a fortune in speaking fees and best of all was the bidding war between outlets that ended with me standing here, in this building, shaking hands with a woman whose work I studied in journalism school.
"Thank you for having me," I say. "I still can't believe I'm here."
"Believe it." She releases my hand and gestures at the newsroom behind her. "You earned it. We’re thrilled you took our offer."
The floor stretches out before us. I see people whose bylines I've been reading for years glance up as we pass, and some of them nod, and one woman mouthsgreat workwith a thumbs up.
This is everything I ever wanted.
Except.
What would Laura say if she knew about the hotel rooms?
What would she say if she knew that for the past two months, I've been meeting Carter Crane in secret, letting him fuck me against walls, over desks, once in the back seat of a car when the hotel accidentally double booked our room. I can’t seem to stop myself.
What would she say, if she knew her newest investigative journalist has been spreading his legs for the subject of his own exposé?
The cold in my chest spreads outward. I’d get fired. And if I were incredibly lucky, that’d be all. At worst…
I follow her across the floor and try not to think about it.
"Your desk," she says, stopping beside a spot by the window. "IT will get you set up this morning, then I thought we could grab lunch and talk about what you want to work on next."
I run my hand along the edge of the desk. The wood is smooth and solid beneath my fingers.
"It's perfect," I say.
Laura smiles. "Get settled. I'll come find you around noon."
She walks away, heels clicking on the floor, and I lower myself into my new chair, opening my new work-issued laptop.
The IT setup takes most of the morning, mostly taken up by needing to get authorizations for security logins for various bits of software. The tech guy keeps calling me "Mr. Dean, sir." even though I tell him Jamie is fine.
At 11 AM, I have an orientation meeting. HR takes me through the basics of payroll, policies, the history of the newspaper which I already know inside out and by twelve, I’m back at my desk with an hour to go before lunch with Laura.
I’ve got some good stories lined up, most are smaller but one looks very promising. It’s a large pharmaceutical company accused of hiding adverse reactions to one of their biggest selling products. Someone claiming to work for them has emailed me a huge batch of lab results and a recording of what they claim is the CEO saying he doesn’t give a shit if a few people die. I haven’t verified it but if it’s real, it’s explosive and if I can back all of this up…maybe I’ll get to put the ‘Jamie Dean is obsessed with Carter Crane’ rumors to bed. I’ll no longer be a one trick pony.
This is the kind of thing that I used to live for, but I’m struggling to concentrate. All I can think of is the look on Carter’s face last night as he pushed me down onto the bed, the strength in his arms as he pinned me down.
It’s ridiculous. He made me come twice and less than twelve hours ago, and yet I’m desperate to have him do it again. My whole body is humming with desire. Just thinking about it makes my body flush with warmth.
And then my stomach cramps. I know these cramps. I've felt them before, at the beginning of every heat I've ever had. Low, insistent pulses of pressure, my body reminding me what it needs.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth.No.Not now. I have the best opportunity of my career and I’m sitting here daydreaming about some asshole.
Get it together, Dean. You’re not in fucking heat.
I’ve not had a heat in months. I take my suppressants. I keep away from alphas that might trigger them. I…am not keeping away from alphas that might trigger them.
Oh crap.
