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And even though, I am trapped between the hard chair and the soft heat of his body, his words hit me like a slap across the face. The hurt wells up inside me, fueling my own anger. "I'm not a naive girl, Stephen. I've worked hard to be here, and I won't let you undermine me."
He leans in, his voice low and seething. "I don’t care what you willletme do, Miss Bloom.” His hand snakes around my waist and he holds me close. I'm breathless with anticipation, wishing for what was forbidden. His lips find the sensitive spot on my neck and I tremble beneath him.
“Don’t forget that I’m your boss, Miss Bloom,” he murmurs silkily, his fingers caressing my chin to tip my head up and meet his eyes.
I'm entranced by his power. This is precisely what I've desired. To be entirely consumed by my much older forbidden boss. And he senses it too, so it's not all in my head.
I'm on the verge of either melting into his arms or shoving him away, until Rosie barges in, her face stunned at the intimate sight before her. "What the hell is going on here, Stephen?" she demands, her voice laced with disapproval.
And even though he steps away from me, Stephen's gaze remains fixed on me, his voice devoid of emotion, as he says, "Nothing that concerns you, Rosie. Just a misunderstanding that needed clarification."
Rosie's eyes shift between the two of us, her frustration palpable. "Well, it better be just that, Stephen. Because if I find out that you're mistreating one of our most promising reporters, there will be consequences."
I muster a small smile, grateful for Rosie's support. "Thank you, Rosie. But I can handle this."
She gives me a sympathetic nod before turning her attention back to Stephen, her tone firm. "Good. Because we need all hands on deck for the whistleblower story, and that includes Chloe. Don't let your personal issues cloud your judgment."
With that, she leaves the room, leaving Stephen and me in an uncomfortable silence. The air feels heavy with unspoken words, regret, and fractured trust. As I walk away, I can't help but wonder if our paths will ever align again, or if this chapter has come to a bitter end.
But for now, I push those thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand, determined to prove myself despite the hurdles and the deepening chasm between Stephen and me.
I make my way to the break room, seeking solace and a momentary reprieve from the intensity of the confrontation with Stephen. What the hell was that about? I shake my head and focus on the task at hand. Martha is already there, sipping her coffee while flipping through a stack of papers. Nick, as expected, is perched on a nearby chair, ready to unleash his signature biting remarks.
And sure enough, as soon as I step into the room, Nick raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Oho, look who's back from her little tête-à-tête with the boss. Did you think you had already won his approval, Bloom?"
I feel a surge of frustration at his mocking tone, but today, I don't have the strength to engage in a verbal spar with him. The weight of the argument with Stephen still lingers in my mind, clouding my thoughts. “Fuck off Nick,” I murmur and simply slump onto a chair. It's hard to summon the energy to say anything more.."
I grit my teeth, my hands clenched tightly in my lap, but before I can muster a response, Martha interjects, her voice calm and steady. "That's enough, Nick. Lay off her. We've all had our fair share of clashes with Stephen. It doesn't mean she's any less capable."
Nick shoots Martha a disdainful look before standing up. "Fine, have it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you." With a dismissive wave, he exits the room, leaving Martha and me alone.
I look up at Martha, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Martha. I don't know why he gets under my skin so easily."
She offers a sympathetic smile and takes a seat beside me. "That’s cause Nick’s a prick who knows just how to push people's buttons. But don't let his words get to you. You're doing great work, Chloe, and it hasn't gone unnoticed."
I let out a weary sigh. "It's just . . . everything with Stephen today, and now Nick's relentless taunting. It's been a rough day."
Martha's expression softens, and she leans closer. "Chloe, I overheard something earlier. I was in the hallway when Jonathan was on the phone.” She looks around, as if to check for eavesdroppers, before continuing. “It sounded like he was, I don’t know, bargaining with someone who works at the whistleblower's company. I couldn’t make out much, but it seemed like he was trying to strike a deal, maybe to leak the whistleblower's identity."
My eyes widen at her revelation, a mix of shock and concern washing over me. "Are you sure, Martha? That's a serious allegation."
She nods, her voice tinged with worry. "I know! As I said, I couldn't hear all the details, but it definitely seemed like he was trying to gain something in exchange for betraying the whistleblower's identity. I thought you should know."
Conflicting emotions swirl within me—concern for the whistleblower's safety, anger towards Jonathan's unethical behavior, Fuck his guy was a prick! and a growing realization that this story runs deeper than I initially thought.
"Thank you, Martha," I say, my voice laced with determination. "We need to dig deeper into this. We can't let Jonathan jeopardize the integrity of our work."
Martha nods, her eyes shining with resolve. "I'm with you, Chloe. We'll expose the truth and make sure justice is served."
Martha and I continue our conversation, exchanging ideas and plans for delving deeper into the whistleblower story, when suddenly, the familiar hum of voices grows louder outside the break room. Curiosity piqued, we exchange a glance before rising from our seats and making our way towards the source of the commotion.
As we step into the hallway, we see a wave of reporters hurrying in the same direction, their faces filled with anticipation. The conference room, where Stephen and Jonathan often hold meetings to brief the staff on significant cases, seems to be their target destination.
Without exchanging a word, Martha and I quicken our pace, joining the throng of people as we approach the conference room door. The air is thick with anticipation and whispers of speculation. What could be happening? Is it a major development in the whistleblower story or something entirely different?
As we reach the doorway, the sea of bodies parts slightly, offering us a glimpse of the room's interior. Stephen stands at the front, his expression serious and focused. Jonathan is also present, his usual confident demeanor tinged with a hint of anxiety.
The room buzzes with tension, and I strain to catch snippets of conversation as reporters share hushed words with one another. It becomes clear that something significant is about to be revealed. My heart quickens in anticipation.
