Page 75 of The Rebel Billionaire

I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me, and I hate to think of the ribbing I’m going to get from the others when he fills them in.

He clasps my shoulder as the elevator doors open.

“Don’t be too hard on her, or yourself,” he says cryptically, stepping inside before I can respond.

I walk back towards my office. Brooke steps around her desk.

“The report Mickey brought up. I’ve gone through it and annotated the areas I think you may want to look over, and Sue wanted your approval on some new hires?”

It doesn’t surprise me she queries the latter.

“If we’re hiring anyone for our creative teams, they have to go through additional checks,” I explain. “Espionage is a real thing in this industry and more common than you can imagine.”

Her eyes widen. “Right,” she says. “She said she’s placed the CVs in the relevant directory. Do you need me to do anything with them?”

Her question surprises me. She’s stepping into Callie’s role as though she’s worked for me far longer than she has. “No, that’s fine. I’ll look over them later. Let Sue know you’ve told me they’re there.”

I move off towards my office, needing to put some space between us. I should apologise for being short with her, but I need our power balance to remain in place. She’s shaping up well and will, I’m in no doubt, become a top-class PA, but she’s only here for the short term and has a lot to learn about life.

“If any more directors come calling, make sure I know about it,” I say.

“Of course,” she replies, and I swear she says, under her breath, “Jackass.”

“Did you say something?” I ask, turning.

“Not at all. Now I know, I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Good,” I say, smothering my smile as I enter my office.

CHAPTER 22

ALEX

The elevator pings, the doors sliding open, revealing the dimly lit corridor. I step out and head towards my office. It’s nine thirty. My meeting with Teresa and Elise, our Creative Director, ran longer than I expected. But we achieved a lot.

I round the corner and draw up short. The lights around my office are bright. I scan the area, noticing Brooke’s computer is still on, and I can hear singing coming from the kitchen. I bite my lip as she hits an off-key note to an old rock song I recognise but can’t recall the name of. Unable to stop myself, I head towards the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.

Brooke is jumping around, playing air guitar while the coffee machine gurgles happily in the corner.

I cough, and she jumps. Her hand goes to her chest as she spins around to face me.

“Oh fuck!” she shrieks, bending double. “You scared the shit out of me.” Her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh shit… sorry,” she says again.

I wonder if it’s the swearing she’s apologising for, or something else.

She straightens, her cheeks flushed. “Er, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you back,” she says a little breathlessly.

“Clearly,” I say, and her cheeks darken further under my gaze. “You’re here late?”

Her eyes drift to the clock, widening.

“Is that the time already? No wonder I need another coffee.”

“Brooke,” I say, trying to pull her into the present. She appears jittery. “Maybe it’s not another coffee you need. Maybe you need to go home.”

Her eyes clash with mine, and I can’t quite read what I see there… reluctance?

“I just wanted to finish off the reports you sent me.”