“Yes.”
“Fuck, what does he want now?” He leaned back to look out the open door into the waiting area and irritation took me over. All at once angrier than I’d been in forever, I sped into the outer office where Jean-Paul was getting his flirt on with our uninvited guest, though he mostly seemed to be bombing. Polunin didn’t look anywhere close to asking for his number.
“Tell Roberts to fuck himself.”
Polunin straightened and smoothed his hand down his tie. “In those words exactly?” He gave the impression I’d just handed him a present.
“Fuck yes, in those words. He’s been up our asses as politicians”—I pointed between myself and Ross, who stood in the doorway behind me—“and that’s fine. Expected, even. But my private life is just that—private. He doesn’t get to stick his nose in it. He doesn’t get to threaten me.”
Polunin’s eyebrows flew high. “He disagrees.”
“Maaaybe you should let me handle this.” Ross smoothly stepped between me and Polunin. “You’re too tangled up in your—oh, hell.” Ross smiled at Jaxson, who stepped out to join everyone. Jean-Paul got to his feet like an ancient old man, shoving himself up with his hands on the desk, as if he was waiting for me to give the order to cause mayhem of his own particular kind, which would involve sternly ordering everyone else out of the office and stomping around behind them until they listened.
“I’ll just wait for that phone call,” Polunin said as awkwardness settled between everyone. Jean-Paul’s expression fell as Polunin swanned out into the hallway toward the elevators.
“Jaxson, could you go back into my office, please?” I murmured.
He shuffled that way, and Ross stared after him with lightning in his eyes until the door snapped shut with a click.
“Vane. That boy,andyou’re fighting with reporters? One or the other, man. You can’t do both.” He smiled, but it held an edge of desperation I imagined someone standing at the rails of the Titanic might have worn, but things were not that dire at the moment.
“I told Roberts that Jaxson is my boyfriend last night. I’m only fighting with a reporter. The cat is pretty far out of the bag—or will be.”
My personal office door opened again, and Ross and I flinched at Jaxson where he leaned his weight on his hand against the doorknob.
“Come out here,” I said, and he shuffled back into the room. I opened my arm toward him and he stepped over, resting against my side.
Jean-Paul sniffed as if that was the most untoward thing that had ever happened in this office.
“Tell Ross about Kalinski,” I murmured. “I want the whole story anyway. Might as well not repeat yourself.”
“You’re sure?”
I glared, and Jaxson spilled his guts to Ross. The story didn’t take long to tell, since it was mostly a fumbled attempt at bribery and not much else. I held him closer anyway, though, because I hated that he’d been intimidated, and even if he wouldn’t say so, potentially scared.
“Fuck, well, what can we do? I can’t have someone that underhanded in my office who isn’t completely on my side. It just won’t work.” Ross shook his head sadly. “If he’d come to me directly and begged for a spot with something to hold overmyhead, Imighthave given it to him. That shows balls. This is just… weak. And irritating.”
Jaxson nodded. “And you can’t kick him to the curb or he’ll cause trouble.”
Massaging my jaw, I mumbled, “There are other options.” I didn’t mean to sound so murdery, but Ross widened his eyes at me a bit. I wasn’t entirely shocked when Jean-Paul smiled and nodded at me, like maybe he thought taking Kalinski out entirely was a good idea.
“You guys are the best,” I said quietly.
Ross laughed before he growled, “There are zero options that might not bite us on the ass.” He stormed over and grabbed Jaxson’s arm, which had me gritting my teeth. “Go talk to Kalinski and find out exactly, down to the most minute detail, what the fuck he wants.”
“I don’t want Jaxson anywhere near that asshat,” I snapped.
Ross’s assistant, Mark, peeked his head around the door with a wince. He had red cheeks that matched his red hair as he rushed into the office, holding up the front page of the newspaper. He shoved it directly into Ross’s face, and Ross had to step back and hold onto Mark’s wrist to steady the paper.
“Have you seen this?” Mark screeched.
Ross didn’t take the paper, just sort of swiveled Mark, who resembled a horrified statue, around so that the rest of us could see the headline:Corruption in the Mayor’s Office.
“But how?” I asked. “Roberts didn’t seem to have a clue that Jaxson worked here!”
Ross snatched the paper out of Mark’s hand and read the front-page article over, gaze flying across the page. “The byline is Avery Wysocki, not Roberts.”
Seeing red, I stomped toward the elevator, snatching the paper out of Ross’s hand as I went. I pushed the call button so hard my finger hurt, and almost like they were afraid of me, the doors opened quickly. I stepped in and spun on my heel, mashing the button for the ground floor. Ross tried to follow me, but I shoved him back.
