Page 139 of A Song for You

Cat prods, “A human aspect. Or a twist, correct?”

Rose nods.

“You need a face for the article. A woman who’s gone from staying at home with her kids to the governor’s office—or something along those lines. But more than that, you need a reason. A Why. What will make women want to read her story?

“Politics don’t interest people anymore. The topic is tiring…but humanity? The stories behind why people do things, why they tick. Why a person would walk away from one life without a glance”—her eyes find mine—“those are the stories our readers want. Truths. And the dirtier the better. It’s what sells magazines,” she adds, leaning back in her chair.

The entire room is rivetted, and all eyes are on her. It’s clear Cynthia groomed her for this position. And she revels in it.

“And how will you sell magazines, Ms. James?” I press. My attention never wavers. I pick up my coffee cup and take a sip, reminding her that I’m the one in charge. These people may eat up her words, but they answer to me, and until I say she’s their leader, she needs to remember that.

Cat smirks as she purrs, “Sex club.”

I choke on my coffee. Trying to cover up my reaction, I clap a hand against my chest and shake my head. “You want to write an article about a sex club?”

She remains unflappable, watching me with indifference, as if I’m boring her, and then inspects her nails. “Yes.”

“But…this is a women’s magazine.”

“And women don’t like going to sex clubs, Mr. Hanson?” She raises a brow in challenge.

She’s got me there.

I loosen my tie. The temperature has suddenly spiked. “Can you open a window?” I ask the guy sitting nearest to it.

“The AC is on,” Cat teases with a smirk on her face.

“I want fresh air; I didn’t realize that was a crime.”

Her answering smile is smug. She knows exactly why I fucking need air. “As I was saying, my article will be about a sex club.”

I take another sip of coffee to give myself time to formulate a response. “And what, pray tell, do you plan to write about?”

Cat leans back in her chair and taps her pen against her plump red lips. Lips I’ve imagined around my cock more times than I can count. Lips that moaned my name at a sex club oh so many years ago.

What the hell was wrong with us back then?

And how do I get us back to those people?

“Oh, I’ve got a story idea,” Sophie perks up.

Cat’s lips fold in on themselves, like she knows she has to prepare for the words Sophie is about to utter.

“Men in the workplace who overcompensate for their small dicks by being huge ones…and other me too things…”

As soon as the meeting is over, I stalk into Cat’s office and slam the door. She jumps in surprise, and her expression immediately turns cold.

“What the hell was that little show you put on back there?” I demand, my heart pounding.

“Show?” she scoffs.

“Yeah. You aren’t going to write about a damn sex club. You should be taking this assignment seriously, Cat. I can’t hand you the editor in chief position just because I love you.”

At my confession, the apathetic mask she wears slips, and she looks stunned, but only for a second.

The woman is good, I’ll give her that. But I’ve always been able to see past her poker face.

Fucking finally, she gets it. I’m not fucking with her. I’m here because I’m head over heels in love with her. I’m here for her.