Chapter 17

"Stick to the point, please," I said to Charles.

Charles straightened up and went over to the window, his arms still folded over his chest. "I'm not built for ethics, Elena. You ought to know that. Alphas have their own ways of dealing justice."

He turned to face me. "I'm built to value results. Profits. Everything else is secondary."

"Including people?"

"You know it includes people. I know you see it as selfish, but if I go down, think of how many others will be affected."

I didn't like this argument. It wasn't the only option, but Alphas had used it for generations, refusing to slacken their grip.

"In order for me to be successful and help all my employees and my family and the economy, I need you to stop distracting me. To get you to stop distracting me, I need to be with you enough to be overfed."

"You've explained this before," I said. This time it was my turn to cross my arms, though it felt like a defensive move on my part rather than the gesture of aggression it was for him.

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. He waved at his chairs and couch without looking back down at me. "Please, sit down."

I wanted to leave. I wanted to walk out and never come back. But I also needed to fix this situation. The truth was, I would be out of money in a week.

I couldn't, however, let him know that.

He came back and sat in a chair across from me. He inhaled and I watched his nostrils flare and his eyes dilate.

He's really not lying about my scent affecting him, I thought. Not that I'd thought that ever, but it was still startling to see my scent have such an impact on someone.

He took a few deep breaths, steadying himself, and then levelled his eyes at me.

"I'm a negotiator," he said, his voice calm and steady now, his business side taking over. "If it's truly repellent for you to be my lover, which is totally baffling but never mind that right now, then personal assistant is a concession I'm willing to make."

He frowned as he said it. "I don't like it, but I need the time with you. The hours you were in my office and having lunch with me, I was productive in a way I've never been before."

"Now that I've been in your presence in reality, not just in dreams, and I've seen the results, I'm even more determined, Elena."

I leaned away as he leaned forward. He was doubling down, and I didn't have a card to play.

"Obviously, I'm trying to make this beneficial for you, too, so that you'll stay and be open to whatever needs to happen."

His voice dropped even lower, almost to a growl. "I am, however, willing to go to extreme measures. Please believe me when I say I will break every law you think exists, every normal society appears to be built on to get you to do what I need, and I will not pay any penalties, I promise."

I felt a chill run down my spine. I tried to stop myself shrinking back, but his power was undeniable and I'd spent my entire life instinctively responding a certain way to Alphas like him.

"You would kidnap me?" I said, my voice sounding less strong than I wanted. "Force me into...?"

He signed and looked away. "Let's not go there unless we have to. Right now, let's be practical. Your resume, and now your name, won't get you a journalism job, or any job, anywhere in my territory."

He shrugged and looked at me. "I'm offering you comfort. Don't turn down such a golden opportunity."

"I want to be a journalist."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" He stood suddenly, throwing up his hands. "I don't understand. What's so amazing about that job?"

He strode over to his drinks cabinet and poured himself some water from a crystal water ewer. "You just make yourself obnoxious and then your work gets picked apart by editors and critics who don't agree with you."

"It's about exposing injustices in our society," I objected, feeling on solid ground again. "It's about standing up for the truth."

He scoffed and muttered. "Idealism is another word for naiveté."

"Pessimism doesn't become you," I retorted.

He took a gulp. "The job also doesn't fit you. It's not a match. You're an introvert. You're not good at confrontation or social situations."

I stood and looked at him in the eye.

"I'm not good at confrontations?"

A heavy silence hung in the air.

After a moment, he slumped back down onto the couch. I maneuvered and sat as far as I could from him.

"I'll say it again," he said more quietly. "You want a job only I can give you. If you truly want this like you say you do, then you'll negotiate with me."

I considered this.

"I'm not going to spend nights with you."

He looked offended but nodded. "You'll be my assistant, then. Good."

"No, you'll get me a journalism job in the company. If I'm working in the building, then I'll be able to spend lunch and any free time here with you during the day. I can maybe even have a desk up here or something."

He frowned.

"Otherwise, I don't care if I have to leave the territory. You forget, I have no family. There's nothing to stop me moving to another city, another town."

I leaned forward and put my hand on the coffee table. "And I'll work a minimum wage job at a smalltown newspaper in the middle of nowhere rather than be under your thumb."

Charles blinked twice, then stood, going back to the open drinks cabinet. He poured himself another glass of water, then a second. He came over and put it down in front of me.

I didn't want to touch it, but it felt strangely like he was conceding something, a difficult and almost impossible move for an Alpha unless it was to another, stronger match.

Is this really going my way? I thought as I picked up the glass and took a sip of the cool, fresh water.

"Okay," he said.

"What?" I almost spat out the water I'd just sipped.

"You have one year. If you aren't a major success in the field by then, you become my close assistant until I'm so sick of you I don't ever want to smell you again."

I looked at his face. It seemed tortured, like he hated to have to negotiate at all.

"How do we measure 'a major success'? A year is nothing if you're thinking of journalism awards or accolades."

"I'll be the judge of what constitutes your success or not."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"This deal isn't that I wanted. Your terms are ridiculous."

"So are yours!"

"At least you get what you want, Elena. I'm only getting a fraction of what I need. But I never make deals with uncertain results for me. I'm willing to compromise and wait you out."

He's certain I'm going to fail, I thought. I got angry. I was going to prove him wrong.

"Then it's a deal," I said, raising my water glass. He frowned but lifted his glass to me and took a long drink.

"Now," he said, standing and going over to his desk. "Let's get you started. You look as if you're prepared for work. Why waste time?"

He picked up his phone and dialed an extension.

"Sal? Yeah, I've got a new reporter for you. Yep, starting now. She's on her way down to you. No, no, I trust you. Of course not, don't go easy, she says she just wants to be in journalism. Better show her what she's in for."

He looked at me and smiled in a wolfish way I didn't like.

"Thank you," I said, putting my cup on the table and standing.

"Head down to 10, ask for Sal."

I turned to go.

"Oh, and Elena?"

I turned back.

"I'll see you at noon for lunch."

He smirked when I scowled at him.

I turned and left the room. Thankfully, neither Amy or Jessica were at their desk, and I went unhindered to the elevator.

As I rode it down to the tenth floor, I wracked my mind for the name on the masthead. What department was this Sal in?

At the tenth floor, I asked at the receptionist desk and was directed down a long hall. At the end was a door to more office spaces with the sign plate Social Scene, Editor in Chief, Sally Lugano.

My face fell and my stomach sank. Now I knew where I'd seen the name. This was the department that reported on all the gossip, and all the sensational, often lurid events that went on around the city.

Its reporters were reputed to be the most aggressive, obnoxious gossip hounds in the city, and the department was sued almost weekly for something it had published.

Charles had taken my declarations about journalism and truth and thrown them back in my face. And as far as success, what accomplishments could I achieve here?

"Only one way to find out," I said aloud to the door.

It didn't matter what was behind that door job-wise. I had to prove Charles wrong. I had to survive this.