it?
“I went to New York with him over the weekend.”
“When did this come about?”
“It started a few weeks ago.”
He sighed and looked at the picture again.
“I don’t have to tell you how bad this could be,” he said. “Do I?”
I shook my head. I knew all the ramifications of this for Kevin professionally, and by extension for me as well. I had thought it through early on when things started with Max. But in the meantime, my only concern had become for me personally, and the emotional wreckage that I might become if I let myself get too close to him. Too late. I was already there, and there was no going back.
Kevin continued: “Look, I understand if you got swept off your feet by Max Dalton. But you should have at least told me you were seeing him. This could complicate our working relationship.”
I wondered if he meant his working relationship with Max, or with me. Was he thinking of firing me? No, that would be a stupid move. He’d just landed his biggest deal with a major Hollywood producer, so how could he possibly fire his assistant who was dating that major Hollywood producer? The notion was fraught with career suicide for Kevin. And it was all just dawning on me. So I relaxed.
I didn’t say anything, though. I just let him finish. “Be careful.”
I hoped the ominous tone in his voice was unintended. The warning sounded like something more than an admonition to play things safe for the sake of his agency.
“Careful?” I asked.
Kevin looked down at his iPad without saying anything. He touched the screen a couple of times, scrolled down, then turned it so the screen was facing me.
I was looking at a tabloid website. There was a large photo of Max with a tall blonde woman under the snarky and typically unprofessional headline: “SOAP STAR’S BABY DADDY”.
Holy shit.
I read the first two paragraphs of the story. The woman was a soap opera actress named Liza Carrow. Rumors had been swirling for weeks, apparently, about her being pregnant and how they would work it into the show. And, as always happens in celebrity news, the major question was about who the father was.
The photo was taken two days ago outside a Thai restaurant in Los Angeles. The story named Max and told readers who he was, but the focus of it was really Liza Carrow. At least, that’s how the tabloid had intended it.
For me, the focus was Max.
It’s not often that you can shoo your boss out of your office, but that’s pretty much what I did. “I need to be by myself.”
That’s all I had to say. Kevin got up and left.
I sat there for a few minutes, stunned. Then started feeling stupid for letting myself get into this so deeply. I knew I shouldn’t have. My instincts were right.
My cell phone rang. I got it out of my purse and looked at the screen. It was Max, of course, no doubt calling me about the story that had been broken by the tabloid. I let it ring three times, and then decided I needed to hear his voice. I needed to hear his explanation. Avoiding him wouldn’t do any good.
“Hello,” I said, flatly.
“Olivia. I need to see you.”
I stayed silent for a moment and then decided to play along. “Is something wrong?”
“We need to talk. In person.”
“Max, what is it?” I said, pulling off the fake surprise and worry pretty nicely, I thought.
He sighed, but didn’t say anything.
A part of me wanted to scream at him—scream that he had betrayed me, lied to me, kept something hugely important from me, as we spent more and more time together, and all the while he knew I was feeling closer to him. Bastard.
“I’m coming to pick you up,” he said.
“When?”
“Right now.”
My throat was starting to tighten up as I held back from crying. “I…I’m working.”
“I need to see you, Olivia. It can’t wait. I’m pulling into the parking lot now.”
He hung up. Fuck.
I immediately grabbed my purse, stopped by Kevin’s office and started to tell him what was going on. He was
“I went to New York with him over the weekend.”
“When did this come about?”
“It started a few weeks ago.”
He sighed and looked at the picture again.
“I don’t have to tell you how bad this could be,” he said. “Do I?”
I shook my head. I knew all the ramifications of this for Kevin professionally, and by extension for me as well. I had thought it through early on when things started with Max. But in the meantime, my only concern had become for me personally, and the emotional wreckage that I might become if I let myself get too close to him. Too late. I was already there, and there was no going back.
Kevin continued: “Look, I understand if you got swept off your feet by Max Dalton. But you should have at least told me you were seeing him. This could complicate our working relationship.”
I wondered if he meant his working relationship with Max, or with me. Was he thinking of firing me? No, that would be a stupid move. He’d just landed his biggest deal with a major Hollywood producer, so how could he possibly fire his assistant who was dating that major Hollywood producer? The notion was fraught with career suicide for Kevin. And it was all just dawning on me. So I relaxed.
I didn’t say anything, though. I just let him finish. “Be careful.”
I hoped the ominous tone in his voice was unintended. The warning sounded like something more than an admonition to play things safe for the sake of his agency.
“Careful?” I asked.
Kevin looked down at his iPad without saying anything. He touched the screen a couple of times, scrolled down, then turned it so the screen was facing me.
I was looking at a tabloid website. There was a large photo of Max with a tall blonde woman under the snarky and typically unprofessional headline: “SOAP STAR’S BABY DADDY”.
Holy shit.
I read the first two paragraphs of the story. The woman was a soap opera actress named Liza Carrow. Rumors had been swirling for weeks, apparently, about her being pregnant and how they would work it into the show. And, as always happens in celebrity news, the major question was about who the father was.
The photo was taken two days ago outside a Thai restaurant in Los Angeles. The story named Max and told readers who he was, but the focus of it was really Liza Carrow. At least, that’s how the tabloid had intended it.
For me, the focus was Max.
It’s not often that you can shoo your boss out of your office, but that’s pretty much what I did. “I need to be by myself.”
That’s all I had to say. Kevin got up and left.
I sat there for a few minutes, stunned. Then started feeling stupid for letting myself get into this so deeply. I knew I shouldn’t have. My instincts were right.
My cell phone rang. I got it out of my purse and looked at the screen. It was Max, of course, no doubt calling me about the story that had been broken by the tabloid. I let it ring three times, and then decided I needed to hear his voice. I needed to hear his explanation. Avoiding him wouldn’t do any good.
“Hello,” I said, flatly.
“Olivia. I need to see you.”
I stayed silent for a moment and then decided to play along. “Is something wrong?”
“We need to talk. In person.”
“Max, what is it?” I said, pulling off the fake surprise and worry pretty nicely, I thought.
He sighed, but didn’t say anything.
A part of me wanted to scream at him—scream that he had betrayed me, lied to me, kept something hugely important from me, as we spent more and more time together, and all the while he knew I was feeling closer to him. Bastard.
“I’m coming to pick you up,” he said.
“When?”
“Right now.”
My throat was starting to tighten up as I held back from crying. “I…I’m working.”
“I need to see you, Olivia. It can’t wait. I’m pulling into the parking lot now.”
He hung up. Fuck.
I immediately grabbed my purse, stopped by Kevin’s office and started to tell him what was going on. He was
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