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We spin around to face our boss.

“Simon. Of course not,” I stammer. “We were discussing a project. That’s all.”

He nods at us, not believing a single word I say. At least, that’s what his expression is giving away.

“Parker, I need you in my office.” He replies, as if I hadn’t said a thing. Never mind. He’s a master of his craft. No one can shift the media’s focus away from some people and onto others quite like he can. He loads words with ambiguity so that no one knows who said what anymore.

As always, dressed in a neat suit with his gray hair slicked back, he walks ahead and I follow him.

He leans against his desk and points to his sofa. “Have a seat.”

I sit and cross my legs.

“How busy are you with the Evan Sinclair assignment?”

Did he overhear our conversation? A wave of nervousness creeps over me. “Not at all. I’ve basically handed everything over to Carly.”

“Good. Good. I have something for you that you’ll have to handle personally. It requires not only absolute discretion but also a special kind of creativity.”

My mood plummets. I know this kind of assignment. I don’t want anything to do with it. It’s one aspect of my job that I hate.

“Robert Blath . . . ”

I don’t even want to listen anymore because I know what’s coming. I’m all too familiar with that football player.

“ . . . is in pretrial detention.”

Simon doesn’t comment further, but we all know it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

“He trashed a bar, and a few people got in his way. His girlfriend’s still in the hospital.”

I am getting sick. “Simon, I really want to . . . ”

“Robert pays your checks too, Parker. None of us get to choose how the business makes money. If you want to keep working on your pet projects, you’ll have to take on things that don’t align with your interests.”

Pet projects? When people are dragged through the mud because of their sexual orientation or things they have no control over, those aren’t charity assignments. We’re paid generously for those, too. “My interests? Simon, I can’t handle the PR for a criminal to make him more appealing and maybe even influence his trial and sentence.”

Simon looks down on me in the truest sense of the word. “Are you the district attorney’s office, the investigative authorities, the jury, and the judge all rolled into one now? Don’t make a fool of yourself. Innocent until proven guilty. Just as Robert has the right to a criminal defense attorney, he also has the right to balanced media coverage.”

He doesn’t. I hate that guy.

And where’s his manager, Derek? Why isn’t this worth a special meeting at the agency? Why was Evan paraded around like a dangerous criminal, while no one bats an eye at a guy like Robert Blath?

“So? Parker, I already gave you a week’s vacation. Should I regret that now? If you don’t want the assignment, I can find someone else to work on it. Then you can take another vacation. A long one.”

That stupid jerk. Simon hadn’t given me anything at all. I claimed five days from my employment contract. Just because I’ve passed on them in previous years doesn’t mean I’ll keep going that way forever. “I can put together a strategy.” I cave in and hate myself for it. But at least this way I’m in control of what comes of it and how much time gets wasted on this asshole. Somehow, I have to talk myself into accepting my own weakness for giving in.

“There you go. Perfect. You’re my top guy. I knew it.”

No one cares that I am ashamed that I’ve sacrificed my principles for a job. Evan’s right, and I’m a liar who twists the truth to suit himself. For his own benefit.

Fuck. I stand up. “Is that all? I’m going to get to work.”

“We’re done here.”

I don’t want to be in Simon’s vicinity for another second.

But even in my office, I don’t get much peace from old white men. My phone is ringing.