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Chapter 1
Olivia
Okay,sothisdaywas turning into an absolute dumpster fire.
“Is the story still up?!” One of the reporters yelled from the other side of the frantic newsroom. He was frantically running his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing straight up. “Can someone make sure the story isn’t up?!” Sheer panic was clear in his voice.
I clutched my messenger bag tight against my chest as papers flew everywhere. People rushed from one computer to another, their eyes filled with worry. This was supposed to be my first day as a news reporter, but I was pretty sure my orientation was canceled for the day. Or maybe this was the perfect orientation for a newsroom. Nothing like trial by fire.
“It’s not up anymore. But some people have gotten screenshots and posted it on social media!” There was so much yelling right now, a dull ache started forming at my temples.
The chaos continued to swirl around me and I had no idea how I even ended up in the middle of this shit tornado. I was supposed to be looking for someone named Lucy. And she was supposed to show me around. I knew deep down it was impossible for that to happen in the middle of all this, but I wasn’t the type to give up. Besides, I didn’t come here for nothing.
I tried to fluff my red curls and smoothed a hand down the blazer of my navy blue suit. I was a little overdressed, but I wanted to make a good impression. I was smart, capable, and could do this job.
“Um, excuse me…” I asked the closest person I could find. My voice was shakier than I wanted, but this was all a little nerve-wracking, okay? This was the first day of my dream job. The middle-aged man I approached didn’t seem to notice I even existed, let alone that I said anything to him. He continued typing away on his laptop, the brightness set way too high. It was burningmyretinas, and I was a good ten or fifteen feet away. I cleared my throat before trying again.
“I’m—I’m Olivia Taylor. The new reporter. Um. Where can I find—” I was cut off when the door to the newsroom swung open. My eyes swung over to the door to see what everyone was suddenly so interested in. Lo-and-behold, I saw the most breathtaking man in the world. My breath hitched, and I was lost in his most beautiful green eyes. They sparkled with rage and I barely even noticed the group of people frantically following behind him. I wasn’t sure who this man—nogod—was, but he for sure looked like a celebrity. I mean, he was polished and the suit obviously was sheathed over his toned body. His hair was perfectly styled. And he had the whole entourage thing going on, too.
Did this man have a new movie out soon? Were they gonna do an exclusive interview or something? But he looked too serious, too angry, to be a guest. Celebrities always seemed so cool and collected. He definitely didn’t fit that profile.
But no one really addressed him or acknowledged him. They just stared at him with fear written across their faces. That was when I knew for sure this guy wasn’t a celebrity. Only one kind of person had the power to strike that much fear in employees while they were struggling through a crisis.
The boss.
“Can someone explain to me how we’ve allowed this story to remain live?” The man’s low voice vibrated throughout the newsroom, sending shivers down my spine. Everyone froze. It was so silent I was a hundred percent certain that not one person in that newsroom was breathing. The man’s fiercely angry green eyes scanned the room. His hands hung loosely by his side, the picture of fake calm.
“Whose brilliant idea was it to include a fake quote from the secretary of state? Are we that easily tricked by ridiculous internet memes with his face on it?” Oh, he knew how to work that deep, gravely voice. If I’d had anything to do with what happened here today, I was pretty sure I would have vanished on the spot.
I risked taking a peek around the newsroom. No one mustered up the courage to answer him, which made his stony-faced expression morph into extreme disappointment.
“No one? No takers? Am I running a newsroom by myself here?” His voice was…chastising. Not condescending necessarily, but definitely willing to start doling out consequences.
His presence was overwhelming. The tension was already thick before, but now it was pushing all the air out of my lungs. I felt my hands dampen as they clutched my bag impossibly tightly. Yep, this man wasdefinitelythe one who called the shots around here. But was he the editor-in-chief? Or the publisher? I couldn’t remember seeing this perfect, chiseled face on the website. I would have recognized those cheekbones and that jawline.
“S—Sorry, sir!” A reporter finally chimed in. His voice was a little timid and a lot panicked. “The story has been taken down, but—”
“But people have procured copies of it online,” the man finished the sentence, and the stunned silence was a booming reply. “And none of us thought about that happening whatsoever? How peculiar.” Okay, that was a little condescending. His sarcasm sounded playful to the untrained ear, but my senses knew that each word was dripping with venom. The room was dead cold, the sound of shifting feet and shaky breaths whispered through the air.
This was all a little intense for me. It was just my first day for fuck’s sake, and there was already a meltdown. I knew to expect some of this in this job. You don’t get into journalism for a calm workplace. Walk into any newsroom and it’s typically fueled by chaos and coffee. But this was a bit much. Slowly, very slowly, like walking away from a bear, I shifted sideways, trying to make myself invisible. This man was gorgeous, but also kind of an asshole. I was already drafting my resignation in my head, although I was pretty certain no one would actually give a shit if I quit or not. I hadn’t even officially met anyone yet.
“What are we going to do, Ben?” One of the men from his entourage piped up. I pegged him to be in his thirties. He was blonde, had blue eyes and looked insufferable. Probably graduated from an ivy league school and had a masters degree in journalism or business—and never let anyone forget it.
But that name…It sounded so familiar. My eyes widened at the realization of who this man was, standing in the middle of the room and demanding everyone’s attention.
“Ben…?” It was a whisper, but I still snapped my mouth shut. Anxious that I just said that out loud. This man was not simply the editor-in-chief of the newsroom. He was not just the mere boss of a team. I was so fucking wrong. No, this man was Ben Oviatt. ThePresidentof the entire OVT Broadcasting Network. An actual goddamned legend.
Oh god, what did I get myself into here? I forced my hands to release the strap of the bag and shook them out, trying to slow my heart rate. I literally did nothing wrong, but I was very, very nervous.
I continued to try to hide in plain sight, regretting the decision I made this morning to wear my really polished-looking nude heels, as a deep sigh escaped Ben’s full lips—why the hell was I noticing his lips?—before he turned to every single person in the room, pinning them with an intense stare.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he started, and while I was in a state of shock, I knew I was about to experience the most amazing thing in my life: Seeing the one and only Ben Oviatt work his magic. “Since the story has been removed, the best we can hope is that a small number of people saw it. How many hits did we get?”
He was a leader, and anger completely disappeared from his voice. Ben Oviattknewwhen it was time to get to work, which is what propelled him to immense success at a relatively young age.
“The story was only up for a couple of minutes, so we only got around a thousand views,” a young woman replied to the president, not wavering whatsoever. It was kinda admirable how she wasn’t cracking under the pressure.
Ben huffed, obviously still displeased at that number. “I never thought I would be mad about a thousand views in such a short time.” I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It could have been worse, but it could also have been much, much better.
