Akira didn’t have to wonder if the birth of the newest Mori would be televised. The ratings would skyrocket, and her father could milk the pregnancy and birth and first year for at least three or four seasons. That was something the kid could look back on, a televised scrapbook of dysfunction.And these are my parents and siblings showing their asses on cable TV.
She massaged the back of her neck. Of course, when the pregnancy became public knowledge, reporters would come swarming around, as they always did when something dramatic happened on the show. Poking at her private life, smirking over her house parties, waiting outside her home to ask her what she thought about her father’s “leaked” sex tape or her dearest stepmother’s alleged affairs or the ancient history that made up her parents’ acrimonious divorce when she was a baby.
Being the center of attention was fine, but not when her dad was the cause of it.
A knock on the door startled her. She smoothed her hair and straightened her jacket before rapping out, “Yes.”
The door opened almost instantly, and a small dark-haired woman stepped in. Akira frowned at her. This was not her assistant. “Who are you? You’re not Kim. Where’s Kim?”
Big brown eyes blinked at her. “Um, she’s on maternity leave, ma’am. I’m her replacement, Tammy? We met last week.”
Maternity leave. Of course. Babies were in the air, obviously.
Her assistant was in her late forties, and this was her first child, so of course Akira had encouraged her to listen to her doctor and not work up to the day before her due date, as the dedicated woman might have done. Between flying about the country and chasing down gorgeous aloof authors, Akira had completely forgotten the date.
Akira struggled to contain her irrational dismay. She didn’t want this Tammy, who, while competent, wasn’t her assistant.
Or her friend. “How long will you be working for me?”
“The full length of the maternity leave, ma’am. Four months.”
Four months hadn’t seemed so long when she and Kim had discussed it.Put on your big-girl panties.Her employees were absolutely allowed to have families. “I ought to send her something,” she mused, half to herself.
“I believe Kim already scheduled a floral and gift basket delivery from you and A.M. Enterprises, ma’am.”
Akira almost smiled. “If there’s anything remaining on her baby registry, buy it.” She hesitated as an impulsive thought popped into her brain and her innate selfishness struggled with her good business sense. Selfishness lost. Damn it. “And arrange it so she can take an additional two months, if she wishes. Paid.”
Tammy’s professional mien slipped. “Um, ma’am?”
Akira glanced over her shoulder at the park. The child had left, but another had taken his place. “Have you ever passed a watermelon through your vagina?”
A choking noise came from her substitute assistant. “No, ma’am. I have not.”
“I’m not an expert, but that’s what birth sounds like to me. I should have told her earlier, to take some extra time. In fact, schedule a call with HR so we can look at our maternity-leave policies across the board.”
When Tammy said nothing, she looked at the other woman. The assistant’s face was nonplussed. “Is there a problem?” Akira inquired.
“No, ma’am. That is…very kind of you, is all.”
Hardly. “I like hiring good, competent women. It’s not our fault parasites can grow inside our wombs and wreck our bodies and imbalance our hormones.”
“Um…”
“I mean, it’s not our fault delightful gifts from God bless our lives. And everything else.”
“Ah.” Tammy licked her lips. “Okay.”
Akira clasped her hands on the table. “Since you and I will be working together for the next four to six months, let’s get a couple of things straight, okay?” Akira raised her hand. “First, I’m a bitch. Judging by how startled you are that I’m okay with my assistant taking some extra time to recover from popping out a screaming infant, you’ve heard that already.”
The poor girl’s mouth had dropped open, horror making her eyes big. “Ms. Mori, I would never—”
Akira waved her hand, cutting her off. “I don’t care. You can call me a bitch to my face, if you like. However, you now directly represent me, which means I basically expect you to destroy anyone else who talks shit about me within your earshot. I pay for loyalty, and I think I pay well for it.”
Tammy swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Second, my father is a complete and utter asshole. I don’t care if you have a Team Hiro shirt or have slept in his hotels or watch his show or own his sex tape. He’s an asshole. The next time he or his production company calls, I want you to grab that call and tell them all to go fuck themselves. Or each other. I don’t care who they’re fucking as long as I don’t have to talk to them. Ever. Clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
