CHAPTER SIX
The Audrey Abbot issue was a hit.
Almost two weeks later, her comeback is still being widely discussed on social media. The weekend it hit the newsstands, the interview sparked a reexamination of how she was treated all those years ago in comparison with Hank, and she received an overwhelming wave of support. A bouquet of flowers arrived for me the following Monday from Shamari, and then another from the producers of the play—they brought the ticket release forward and sold out the whole run in three minutes. Our social media and digital director, Roman, has been rushed off his feet trying to keep up with the interaction.
To absolutely no one’s surprise, Cosmo is taking the credit.
In front of the publishers, he’s acting as though it was all his idea. Thank goodness I have the byline on the interview so he can’t claim to have written the piece himself, which I’m sure he would if he could. The Don Bright cover story the following week was barely noticed. I’m waiting for Cosmo to congratulate me on the interview but he’s yet to bring it up. In the editorial meeting that followed the issue, he acknowledged how well it had gone down without even looking at me.
On our way out of that meeting last week, Rakhee whispered encouragingly, “Maybe next week when people are still talking about it, he’ll give you the credit you deserve.”
But I have a feeling that that won’t be the case today, because I’m going to be late to the meeting again.
However, I do have a good reason and I’m standing right outside the office, so I’m very close by, but I’m on hold to get through to a music agent who used to look after Artistry. The band split up years ago but, if the Twitter rumor mill this morning is to be believed, the members are in discussions for a reunion tour.
“Miss Jenkins?” A voice finally says after I’ve had to listen to a crackly version of “Pachelbel’s Canon” on repeat for ten minutes.
“Yes! I’m still here!”
“Oh, hi, I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it to the phone now,” the agent’s PA tells me regretfully. “But I’ll let him know you called.”
“I just need a confirmation on the tour,” I say, trying not to sound too impatient. “If it’s happening, then—”
“I’m afraid I can’t comment, but as I said, I’ll pass on the message you called.”
I sigh, knowing I’m fighting a losing battle. “All right, thanks so much.”
After hanging up, I open my emails and ping a quick message across to the agent to ask him to call me back, casually reminding him that the last time I saw him, I put those espresso martinis on my company card, so technically he owes me a drink but I’ll happily accept a phone call as replacement.
Then I push through the doors of the office and hurry to Meeting Room Three, steeling myself for some kind of snarky comment from Cosmo. He doesn’t disappoint. As I slide into the room, he’s in the middle of talking about expanding the luxury travel section and pauses to say, “Tell me, Harper, are you late for everything in your life, or is it just for work-related appointments?”
“Sorry!” I say cheerily. “But it was for a good reason.”
“I’m sure,” he mutters.
“I’ll remind you that last time I said that, it was because I was securing the Audrey Abbot interview, which has been our most successful issue of the year.”
He clears his throat. “Editorial meetings are extremely important, and I expect you to respect them enough to arrive on time.”
“Of course, Cosmo,” I reply sweetly with a bow of my head. “But as you’ve never once required me to speak in an editorial meeting before, I thought that my presence here might not be as important as speaking to the agent of the much-loved band Artistry, who might be getting back together for a tour.”
Mimi gasps loudly. “Are you serious? I love them!!”
“Are tickets on sale?” Rakhee asks urgently, whipping out her phone and prompting a lot of other people in the room to do the same.
I smile smugly as Cosmo’s eyes bulge out of his head in fury.
“Can we get back to our meeting, please?” he demands.
Everyone reluctantly puts their phones down.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper audibly for everyone to hear, “there hasn’t been a tour announcement yet.”
They all gratefully relax. Cosmo raps his knuckles impatiently on the table.
“Right. As I was saying,” he grumbles, “we’re going to expand the luxury travel section as it draws in more advertising. Thank you, Mimi, for your overview on how that’s going to look. Now, on to another very important matter—as you know, Rakhee is leaving us in two weeks, and we’ve been looking for her replacement.”
My heart sinks, as it has done every time her move is brought up in conversation. She catches my eye and gives me an it’s-going-to-be-okay smile.
“I’m pleased to announce we have already found the person who is going to step into her role, and I’m delighted to say that he is in fact here today.”
He’s here?! Who comes into an office two weeks before their start date? I can’t believe Rakhee didn’t give me the heads-up on who was replacing her. I have to sit next to this person!
“Please give a warm welcome to our new features editor,” Cosmo continues, gesturing toward the back of the room. “Ryan Jansson!”
My blood turns to ice.
I spin round to see him sitting in the back corner of the room. My mouth drops open as he acknowledges Cosmo’s introduction with a curt nod to the team.
This has to be some sort of joke.
“Ryan currently works on the features team on the paper, so he knows the brand inside out, and he’s a dab hand at commissioning, writing, and editing. We’re delighted to have you join us, Ryan.”
“Thank you,” he replies quietly.
“Marvelous,” Cosmo says, before clapping his hands. “Right, then. I don’t think there’s anything else to address…”
As Cosmo rounds off the meeting, Ryan glances over to me. I quickly look away, my cheeks burning. There’s the sound of chairs scraping back as everyone gets up to go, and I trip over my feet on the way out, still in shock at the announcement.
Rakhee finds me leaning on my desk, trying to make sense of the impending doom that I’ll be forced to sit next to Ryan Jansson every single day.
“Harper?” she asks, plonking herself down in her chair and swiveling it to face me. “Are you okay?”
“Ryan Jansson?” I whisper, checking he’s nowhere near. Thankfully, he’s still in the meeting room, talking to Cosmo. “That’s who you’ve chosen to be the features editor?”
“He’s going to be a great addition,” she says, completely oblivious. “He’s knowledgeable, driven, and an excellent editor. Great experience, too—before The Correspondence, he worked as a lifestyle reporter for Venture, you know, the business magazine. He has a few other big names on his CV, too. He’s impressive.”
“Does he ever smile?” Mimi asks, leaning forward on her desk.
“Admittedly, he’s a bit … reserved,” Rakhee acknowledges. “He’s the quiet type. Very focused. But I’m sure he’ll relax and lighten up a bit once he’s settled into the role.”
I run a hand through my hair. “This is … unbelievable.”
“Why are you so upset?” Rakhee asks.
Mimi gasps. “Oh my god! That’s the guy you had eye-sex with the other day!”
“You had eye-sex with Ryan Jansson?” Rakhee wants to know, startled.
“No!” I hiss, horrified that someone might overhear.
“They definitely did,” Mimi tells Rakhee gleefully. “The chemistry was very intense.”
“No, there’s no chemistry! The opposite, if anything. If you must know … we don’t get on,” I say quietly through gritted teeth.
“You said you didn’t know him,” Mimi recalls.
“I don’t! We met … recently. At a book launch. He was arrogant and obnoxious and patronizing. We can’t work together.”
Emerging from the meeting room with Cosmo, Ryan continues toward us as Cosmo splits off into his office, and I quickly sit down, ducking my head behind my monitor.
“Thanks again, Rakhee, for the opportunity,” he says, appearing at her side.
I busy myself with my notebook, angling my chair away from them, toward the wall.
“Don’t thank me! You got the job on your own merits,” she says brightly.
“Big shoes to fill,” he remarks.
“Nah,” she chuckles. “Hey, I hear you’ve met our wonderful celebrity editor, Harper.”
What have I ever done to you, Rakhee?
I reluctantly turn my chair to face him.
“I was telling Rakhee we met at that book launch recently,” I explain before he can jump to any conclusions.
“Right,” he says, his brow furrowed.
“I’m sure you two will get on well,” Rakhee adds nervously, noting his grave expression that likely matches mine.
His eyes flicker toward the scattered papers and heaped books across my desk, and he suddenly looks pained.
“Are you a neat-desk person or someone who prefers a busy workspace?” Rakhee continues gallantly.
“Neat,” he replies without hesitation.
“Apparently, Harper’s messy desk reflects her creativity,” Mimi pipes up.
“Studies have shown that messiness and creativity are strongly correlated,” I explain, lifting my chin.
“Studies have also shown that messiness is a significant contributing factor to stress,” he retorts.
“Albert Einstein once said, ‘If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?’” I quote, delighted with myself for remembering that one.
“Science has proven that our brains thrive in an orderly environment,” he says.
“Research has also proven that those in cluttered settings are more likely to break the mold, while those in neat, orderly ones simply follow social convention,” I declare.
He lifts his eyebrows at me, as though accepting an unspoken challenge.
“In some cases, disorganization is a sign of laziness,” he snaps back.
“Neat and empty spaces often belong to sterile, bland, and uninspiring personalities.”
“Messiness can signal a deeper underlying issue of feeling overwhelmed.”
“Tidiness is usually a sign of a Type A personality.”
He hesitates, frowning. “That’s a good thing.”
“Is it?” I counter.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Type A personalities are associated with high achievement, strong motivation, and being meticulous.”
“As well as impatience, hostility, and stress.”
“And you’d describe yourself as Type B, would you, Harper?” he asks.
“I’d say I have a more casual and carefree approach.”
“So you wouldn’t describe yourself as, say, a workaholic?” he suggests, watching me carefully.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Mimi snorts. I glare at her. Ryan looks satisfied.
“Ryan! Good, you’re still here,” Cosmo calls out, sticking his head out of his office door. “I want to go over a few things with you.”
“I’ll be right there,” he replies before turning back to address us. “I look forward to working with you, Mimi and … Harper. Rakhee, good luck with everything.”
“Thanks,” she smiles. “You’ll come to my goodbye drinks, though, right?”
“See you then.”
He sticks his hands in his pockets and slopes off to Cosmo’s office. Taking a deep breath, I bring up my emails. After clicking angrily at a couple of them, I notice Rakhee and Mimi staring at me.
“What?” I ask, frowning at them.
“Nothing,” Mimi says innocently, before looking to Rakhee. “You see what I mean, though, right?”
“It was out of control,” Rakhee agrees.
“What was?” I ask.
“The chemistry,” she replies breezily.
“And the eye-sex,” Mimi adds.
“Yes, there was a lot of that.” Rakhee nods.
“What!? Have you both lost your minds?” I say, unable to keep my voice down. “He’s infuriating! I told you, we don’t get on! I can’t believe you hired him, Rakhee. This is going to be a complete disaster.”
“For you maybe. But for me,” Mimi says, grinning at Rakhee, “it’s going to be very entertaining.”
There’s no hope of avoiding Ryan at Rakhee’s goodbye drinks.
I try my best, but the pub area that she’s reserved isn’t huge, so I know I’m going to be forced to see him at some point tonight. And starting Monday, I have to sit next to him every day. I’m two gin and tonics down and aiming for at least three before I have to acknowledge him.
“This sucks,” Mimi sighs.
I watch Ryan as he looks interested in whatever Cosmo is saying. Nothing Cosmo says is interesting, so Ryan is either a giant suck-up or just as insufferable as Cosmo.
“Yeah,” I reply, shaking my head at him. “It does.”
“I’m going to really miss having Rakhee in the office,” Mimi says glumly.
You know something else about Ryan Jansson? He’s not quiet. Not really. Everyone always thinks he’s reserved, but when he wants to, he’ll talk and talk, usually disagreeing with whatever point you’re making. I’ve witnessed this side to him on many occasions. The sexy, brooding, tight-lipped persona he has around everyone else is a façade.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” I say, watching him as he continues to listen to Cosmo’s rambling.
“At least we always have each other,” Mimi says, gripping my arm. “You can never leave me.”
“Oh, I won’t be the one to go,” I assure her.
She follows my eye line and then gives me a strange look. “Are you still obsessing over how much you dislike Ryan?”
“I’m not obsessing over it.”
“You don’t need to worry, Harper. I know you’re nervous about him sitting next to you, but you still have me right across! And once he gets to know you, I know you’ll win him over.”
“I don’t want to win him over. If anything, he needs to win me over.”
She laughs. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this stubborn about anything. He must really push your buttons, huh?”
“He’ll push everyone’s buttons soon enough,” I inform her haughtily. “Trust me. Ryan Jansson may seem harmless, but I know the truth.”
She gives me a strange look. “You’ve met him, what, twice?”
I shake my head, forgetting my white lie. “Oh, I’ve got the measure of him all right.”
He suddenly glances up and catches my eye. I look away, but it’s too late. He excuses himself from Cosmo’s company and makes his way toward us.
“He’s coming over,” Mimi warns me through her smile, before saying brightly, “Hi, Ryan! Excited to join the team?”
“Yes,” he replies, greeting me with a curt nod.
“We’re looking forward to having you,” she says warmly. “If you need anything, you can let us know.” Her phone starts vibrating in her pocket and she checks the screen. “It’s my better half—I should take this.”
She gives him an apologetic smile and then ducks out of our conversation as she answers the phone, leaving Ryan and me alone together. Traitor.
“So,” he begins.
“So,” I reply.
“We need to make this work,” he says, lowering his voice so no one can hear.
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Make what work?”
“Us. Together. Sitting next to each other. Being on the same team.” He lets out a long sigh. “Clearly, you’re still upset about what happened, even though it was a long time ago and I think that—”
“Excuse you,” I hiss, “I am not still upset about what happened.”
He snorts. “Oh, really.”
“Really.”
“Because from what I can tell from our recent interactions, you still have a lot of hostility toward me,” he says, scowling.
“That’s not because of what happened, Ryan,” I say crossly.
“Then why is it?”
“Perhaps your general personality annoys me.”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay. That’s mature.”
“You know, you’ve hardly been lovely and sweet toward me in our recent interactions,” I point out. “Maybe you’re the one who bears a grudge.”
“Why would I bear a grudge?”
“I don’t know. I won’t pretend to understand how your scheming mind works.”
“Harper,” he says quietly, pinching the top of his nose as though he’s trying to keep his temper, “can we at least be civil? So that both of us don’t dread going into the office every day? Can you forget about what happened and—”
“As far as I’m concerned, nothing ever happened,” I snap, looking him right in the eye.
A flash of emotion crosses his expression, but I can’t quite work out what it is. Hurt perhaps, or regret? Maybe confusion. It’s gone as quickly as it came.
“Great,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Why do you keep doing that?” he growls impatiently.
“Doing what?”
“You have to have the last word whenever I speak to you.”
“Maybe it’s you who always has to have the last word and that’s why my having the last word pisses you off so much,” I observe smugly.
He rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer. “You’re unbelievable. Is it always going to be like this between us?”
“There’s nothing between us.”
“And you claim that you’re not still angry, ten or so years on.”
“I told you to forget about it!” I snap.
“I wish you would forget about it. I wish…”
He trails off, his expression softening as I glare at him.
I notice his eyes flicker down to my lips. My throat tightens and my heart begins to thud against my chest. Suddenly, my thoughts are clouded by how close I am to him. My cheeks flushing under his gaze, I exhale shakily and swallow. His forehead creases and then, out of the corner of my eye, I see his fingers twitch. I think about what would happen if I reached out and pulled him toward me and—
“Jansson! There you are.”
Cosmo appears next to us and we jolt apart. My face is on fire.
“I’d like your opinion on something,” Cosmo continues, clapping him on the back. He notices me and adds impatiently, “Unless I’m interrupting, of course.”
“No,” I assure him. “I was going to go get another drink anyway.”
I move toward the bar, eager to erase what just happened. I can’t let myself think that way about Ryan. I focus on steadying my breathing as I lean against the counter and wait for my drink, closing my eyes in the hope of shutting out the memories.