“I understand, but the fact that one of his followers recognized him in public, took a photo of him, and posted it online—and that said photo got picked up by online news outlets—is proof he’s more than your average baker. If someone photographed him once, they can do it again.”
Olivia’s fists clenched and unclenched in her lap. “With all due respect, sir—” She should stop saying that, but it was the only thing she could think of to soften the blow of telling her boss he was dead fucking wrong. “This is my personal life. I give a lot to Pine Hill Capital. I am, as you mentioned not half an hour ago, an exemplary employee. I come in early and stay late. I helped close the deal with Ty Winstock, our firm’s biggest client. I am one hundred percent committed to PHC, but my personal life is my personal life.”
Silence invaded Michael’s sprawling corner office.
Olivia forced herself not to shake as she met her boss’s steely gaze. Other than a furrowed brow, his expression was unreadable.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “It is. Under normal circumstances, Pine Hill wouldn’t dream of interfering in its employees’ personal lives—unless, as stated in your employment contract, your personal life directly affects the firm. Your continued relationship with a public figure—anypublic figure—would fall under that category.”
She should’ve left her blazer at her desk. Olivia was sweating balls in here.
“I’m sorry, but I think that’s a bit of a stretch. Sir,” she added stiffly. She clutched the edges of her chair with sweaty palms. “May I ask if any clients complained about the photos?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t seen them or they’renotconcerned.” Michael smiled a thin smile. “We’d both agree that PHC didn’t become what it is by managing problemsafterthey arise. We anticipate issues and fix them before they emerge as issues. That’s what’s happening now. Look.” He leaned forward, his tone turning conciliatory. “I understand this is difficult in the short run, but you’re not married to this man. You’ll find someone else to date. Whereas you’re on the cusp of a vice-presidency here.” His smile grew when Olivia startled. “We both know it’s happening once you receive your MBA, so I see no reason to play coy. VP, director...hell, maybe even a C-suite down the line. As I mentioned earlier this summer, you have a bright future at PHC. Don’t throw it away over some man.”
A migraine set in behind Olivia’s temples. There was too much happening—her brain was scrambling to keep up.
“Also, don’t think I’ve forgotten your request to transfer to San Francisco after you graduate.” Michael tapped his pen against his desk. “I’d be delighted to have you here full-time. I spoke with New York, and they agreed to the transfer as well if it’s still what you want next spring. We’ll reach out in early March to reconfirm and get the paperwork rolling. But everything I mentioned is, of course, contingent on what we just discussed regarding public image.”
“Of course,” Olivia said, her voice hollow. How ironic. She wanted to transfer to San Franciscobecauseof her relationship with Sammy, and now her company was telling her she could only transfer if sheendedher relationship with Sammy.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now. Take some time to think about it,” Michael said with the confidence of a man who knew he’d get his way. “In the meantime, let’s refrain from any public outings where you could be caught in a compromising position, shall we? You have until your last day to make a final decision about your, er, relationship. And Olivia?” he called as she made her way out of his office.
She paused with her hand on the doorknob.
“Choose wisely.”
“Thank you, sir.” It was the only thing she could think of besidesfuck off,which probably wouldn’t go over well. She hesitated, then turned. “One more thing, sir. Out of pure curiosity, may I ask which employee brought the post to your attention? I won’t confront them; I just want to know.”
Discomfort flitted across Michael’s face. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but that’s confidential.”
She figured, but she’d asked anyway on the off chance he’d tell her. She had a pretty good idea who the snitch was, anyway.
Olivia walked back to her desk, her palms slick with sweat and her heart slamming against her ribcage with the force of a two-ton truck. She felt like the lead in a rom-com, stuck choosing between her job and love—only there was no comedy and no guaranteed happy ending.
The situation was a total cliché and a total nightmare.
“You okay?” Cassidy whispered. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Olivia and Cassidy’s relationship had warmed since their run-in in the kitchen, and while they weren’t workplace BFFs, they were friends.
“Yeah.” Olivia turned on her monitor and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”
She glared across the room at Logan, who’d stopped hitting on her since she threatened to report him to HR but who had since taken to undermining and making snide remarks toward her every chance he got. It was subtle enough that she couldn’t call him out without looking paranoid and petty, but she trusted her female instincts: Logan was definitely the one who’d told Michael about the photos.
He noticed her glare and smirked, his eyes gleaming with smug superiority.
Ugh.She needed a better solution to The Logan Problem, because she couldn’t keep working in such a hostile office environment if she transferred to San Francisco.
But first, she needed to figure out a solution to The Sammy Problem, or the point was moot. One misstep and she wouldn’t be transferring at all. She might not even have a job.
* * *
“You made this.”Sammy stared at the plate of shrimp dumplings on the counter.
“Yep.”