I nod my head once. “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need, I’ll be at my desk.”
“There is one more thing,” Nathan called out just before I could turn to leave. “Mckenna Lane. I assume you know her.”
“Of course. She’s the first artist your father signed to Edge Records.” I answered, smoothly.
“That’s right. She’s retiring at the end of next month and I want you to organize a farewell event. It needs to reflect her legacy and this company.”
I tensed up at the news. “You want me to plan it?”
Nathan leaned back in his seat. “Don’t think you can handle it?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I retorted quickly. “It’s just you usually have the publicity team handle something like that.”
“PR will handle press. But I want you overseeing everything else,” he paused. “Understood?”
“Understood.” I gave him a parting smile before I turned and headed for the door.
“Elise?”
I looked over my shoulder at my name being called. Nathan reached out and took up the cup of coffee I had placed on his desk. “Thank you for the coffee.”
***
I LEANED BACKin my chair, my shoulders tight and aching. I’d spent the last few hours buried in party logistics for McKenna Lane’s farewell celebration, Nathan’s newest assignment for me, handed out the moment I returned. It sort of felt like a punishment for quitting seeing how the amount of things I needed to do to make sure this party went off without a hitch was endless. But I didn’t mind since the amount of work served as a distraction from my avoidance of signing up to audition for Titan’s In My Head Tour. Titan was one of the biggest names in R&B, known for his high-energy choreography, buttery vocals and sold-out arenas.
Every time I pulled up the website to secure my spot to audition for Zane Calloway, Titan’s choreographer, I would hear my father’s condescending voice telling me that I was wasting my time; that I wasn’t good enough to tour the world with one of the greatest performers of my generation and that I was sillyenough to think that I could and in the end, I’d agree with the voice in my head, put my laptop away, and focused on the task at hand.
McKenna's farewell celebration was high-stakes. McKenna was a legend as the first artist Xavier Edge ever signed and the woman who helped build this empire. She was royalty. The fact that Nathan trustedmewith planning her farewell party should have flattered me, but all I could feel was wary.
Every time I started to relax, I’d remembered the last three years of impossible hours, the constant nitpicking, and the fact that Nathan had never once, notonce,looked at me like a human being or said thank you. The only reason I stayed as long as I did was because I got paid double than what most assistants usually made and I knew how lucky I was to have landed this position.
Now he was suddenly polite? Calm? Thanking me? Assigning meaningful projects?
It felt like a setup. Like he had a camera crew stashed behind the printer waiting to catch my shocked face for his personal amusement.
Just as I was debating whether to get up and stretch my legs, I felt a tap on my desk.
“How’s everything going so far?” Nathan asked, almost politely.
“Pretty good,” I said, trying to get my voice under control. “Catering, decorator, performers. All chosen. Guest list’s the only thing left.”
He nodded. “Sounds like you’re on top of everything. Good job.”
I think my brain short-circuited. Did Nathan Edge just give me a compliment? “T-thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled.
Silence fell between us for a moment until an audible grumble pierced the room. A fresh sheen of embarrassmentcoated my skin at the realization that the sound came from me, more specifically my stomach.
God, when was the last time I had something to eat?
Nathan’s lips curved into a slow, teasing grin, his gaze dropping pointedly to my stomach before flicking back to my face.
“Was thatyou?” he asked, feigning disbelief. “I thought maybe the building’s pipes were acting up again. Should I call maintenance?”
My face burned as I sat up straighter, crossing my arms over my stomach in an effort to shield myself from the humiliation. “Very funny.”
He leaned casually against my desk with his arms folded, his grin widening. “When’s the last time you ate? Or do you just run on stubbornness now?”
