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Except one thing.
Hawk struts up to me, proud of himself. “I couldn’t leave town after seeing your pitiful apologies online,” he explains. “I may not have the expertise and the finesse that you do, but I have more to thank you for than anyone else in the world. You’re the only person who puts up with my shit. I figure the least I owe you in return is my support.”
I nod appreciatively. “Thanks a lot, Hawk. But this still doesn’t solve the fact that I’m a—how did they word it?—power-toting monster who took advantage of an innocent waif who worked in my office, abusing my authority.”
Hawk tilts his head. “Well, he’s not just some little ‘innocent waif’, though, is he? Hell, you took him to Mexico. You worked together for weeks here. There’s a fuck of a lot more going on between you two. I heard the story from your supervisors when you gave them the 4-1-1 yesterday after clearing the office.”
I nod. “The last thing Trevor is to me is some kid I dicked with. He means … everything to me.” I can’t believe I’m speaking so openly about all of this to a cocky teenage pop star, who pays me to babysit his image.
“Then the world needs to see that,” Hawk states. “What the hell did I just get done proving to your whole staff? Own it, Benny. Own all of it. Own this business, own your brand, and own what you got going on between you and this Trevor kid.”
I give Hawk an assured nod, feeling more motivated now than ever. “You may have just saved me, Jersey kid.”
Hawk chuckles at that. “After how many times you came to save my ass after I kept pissing on your advice? I owe you.”
The electricity of inspiration rushes up my veins. With a glance over my office, watching all of my employees hard at work and brainstorming new, brilliant ideas, I dive right in, answering questions and getting straight to work on managing the situation. Instead of burying myself in my office, I’m on the floor fielding the activity and engaging with my staff more in the space of two hours than I do normally in a whole month.
I’ve never felt more alive.
But there is still that hole in me that no amount of work can fill. I have to come to a decision about what I’m going to do about Trevor, and I think I know what it is.
When half the interns are at lunch—including the one I need to speak to—I make my way for the break room. The conversation they’re all having across the tables, however, brings me to pause at the entrance.
“I mean, it’s not that I think less of Trevor necessarily, but if I knew that Mr. Gage was fair game, I might’ve flirted a bit harder this whole time,” teases Brandon.
“Agreed, me too,” shoots out Isaac, inspiring a couple of the other guys to laugh. “I mean, I don’t swing that way, but hey, for a little recognition from the boss, I could stand taking a trip to Mexico and playing the role.”
“At least Trevor was smart about it and did everything behind the scenes,” Caleb throws in. “I had no idea. None.”
Quite suddenly, Elijah slams his hands down on the table and rises from his chair. “None of you know what the fuck you’re talking about. None of you!” he shouts, silencing the room at once. He takes a deep breath, then goes on in a calmer voice. “Trevor doesn’t have a mean or manipulative bone in his whole skinny-ass body. Trevor met Mr. Gage before he even knew who he was. Their connection was real, and it tormented Trevor for weeks when he found out who he really was. I can’t imagine it was any easier for Benjamin himself, who had to hide his feelings too. Who the hell are we to judge what’s going on between them? Maybe you all fail to notice the intern who is not with us today—the former intern named Brady who wouldn’t think it’s beneath him to seduce Mr. Gage, to ruin Trevor and compromise this business by publically humiliating him, and to leave the office with a smirk on his face. Rest assured, he just buried his own career too, and if you want to sit here and mock Trevor and Benjamin instead of supporting them, then you’re no damned better than Brady.”
The silence in the room is thick after his spiel, an air of deep thoughts cutting through the minds of the other interns.
Finally, Elijah picks up his lunch, then leaves the room. On his way out, he almost crashes into me, not having seen me around the corner of the doorway. “M-Mr. Gage,” he murmurs, surprised.
I nod. “Elijah. How are you?” I ask stiffly.
