Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Guilt nibbled at Elvie’s gut as Joey exclaimed how happy he was for her. For them and for Zander.

Of course, she’d sugarcoated the situation to the point that it looked like a churro.

Instead of telling him she was now blissfully happy and screwing her heartless husband, she painted a picture in soft pinks and vivid baby blues in which Zander and she had fallen desperately in love and decided to be together. To which she wondered if, by telling that to his brother, he would ever admit his involvement with Zander’s parents' accident and ask forgiveness, or would he deny it? Not that she didn't doubt Zander; she had all doubts and a fear that maybe Joey was involved with or without his knowledge.

Joey swallowed the entire thing and asked for seconds. He came clean about the experimental treatment and said he loved Zander like a brother. Like. A. Brother. And he was willing to change and be grateful for the second chance God had given him.

Could she believe him?

Maybe.

But she knew to be mindful from now on.

Joey begged her to invite Zander for dinner in the capacity of a normal couple, and Elvie caved, mostly because she knew Zander would not turn them down, especially because it was his schedule to play with their daughter. Since he’d opted not to get back with Kristal, any united front they were going to offer would surely help their case. Plus, who the hell knew what they were?

Sometimes it felt like a relationship.

Confusingly, she knew that because they were married, the people around them were madly in love. And why the secrecy? Why? What made Zander suggest the divorce anyway?

Oftentimes, their relationship felt like a dirty secret.

Sometimes he ran cold.

Many times he burned hot.

On Monday morning, everyone walked into the first rundown meeting looking grim and overworked. Elvie placed Kipling on the desk and slid into her usual seat, popping open a big white box of donuts.

“Habit’s going to get you broke, girl.” Bella picked a chocolate-glazed one, greeting her by bumping her thigh against her shoulder.

“That’s like threatening a nun with a crucifix. I already am.” She licked the powdered sugar off a pastry as Almera and Gerald handed Bella and her some dark-brewed coffee.

“How was your weekend?" They both asked in unison, but Gerald peppered the question with a knowing grin.

She and Zander were close, but he was still a vault, so she opted for vagueness.

“Relaxing?” Oh, sweet. She put a question mark there. That wasn’t suspicious.

“That’s one thing I don’t believe.” Gerald rolled her eyes.

The entire room raised a collective eyebrow as Zander breezed through the door. He looked both pissed and perfect in a pale dark suit; his frown was so deep that Elvie could barely make out his eyes. A woman from accounting shadowed his steps, sliding his Starbucks and iPad in front of his seat.

“Who was that?” Almera asked.

“Some poor woman is about to be fired.” Bella answered as she stood, went to Zander’s side, and took the iPad and Zeus coffee from the woman as she shooed her away from the room.

Zander's voice echoed, “I would ask how everyone’s weekend was, but that would imply that I give a fuck. And I don’t, because we have bigger fish to fry. I’m talking whale-sized ocean creatures. This is the first and last time I will address this subject, so feel free to never ask me again.”

He dumped his phone and some documents on the desk, shooing Bella away. “SBC just signed a clusterfuck of an ad deal with a marketing firm that specialises in alcohol, condoms, and gambling. You will hear about it in the media, in your local high-end bars, and on goddamn Twitter. Do not engage. As far as we’re concerned, we’re making unbiased news. Period. Understood? ”

Everyone nodded solemnly. Matheo’s men raised their hands to ask something. Zander fell into his chair with a sigh. “Is it about the deal? ”

“Yes.”

"I don't want to hear it. Let’s get to business.”

Gerald looked up from the newspaper he was holding. “Anything else you’d like to address, sir?”

Zander shot him a look. “Are you referring to your fake tan problem? I can hold an intervention, but probably not until next week. Busy schedule and all.”

“I’m talking about the elephant in the room.” Gerald frowned, concern etching his face. He slapped the newspaper with the back of his hand before boomeranging it towards Zander.

Zander picked it up as he sighed in frustration, frowned at the little article circled with a yellow highlighter, and slid it Elvie’s way silently. He picked it up, his heart pounding in her ears. There was no picture. Just text.

WHO’S THAT GIRL: Scottish billionaire tycoon Zander Stanton is DUMPED by wife Elvie Standon again after the latter caught him in the act, cheating on her with an employee. The sordid affair is said to be at least a few weeks old. Both parties were unavailable for comment.

What the fuck? Elvie thought.

Zander sat back, lacing his fingers together. “Well.”

Gerald’s eyebrows jumped to his forehead. “You’ll need to elaborate.”

“It’s true, but not my wife, but rather my ex-wife, Kristal. Maybe a typo or just a biassed, stupid tabloid. I don't care because it's not true. As you can see, Elvie is still here.”

No, it’s not! Elvie wanted to jump up and yell as gasps erupted all across the room. He hadn’t cheated on her, and nobody hadn’t caught them in the act. She stared at him, bewildered, feeling her pulse jackhammer against her eyelids. He tilted his chin up, his expression reeking defiance, ignoring her completely.

“Most of it, anyway. I am still married to Elvie Humphry. However, it is not sordid, hardly a secret, and we were never caught in any act. Elvie didn’t know about my contract relationship with my ex-wife, Kristal, when I married Elvie again, and is therefore not at fault. However, Elvie's position here has nothing to do with our relationship, which developed after she was appointed as a reporter and my assistant.” He was calm, cold, and smooth. Everybody’s eyes ping-ponged between them, and her skin was on fire. Why was she suddenly shy, scared, and fearful anyway?

They were married, for fuck’s sake.

It's not like she was the mistress here! But she felt humiliated and helpless. And most of all, she felt furious at his random confession. When they’d agreed to tell the world, she thought it would be after discussing a strategy. Together.

“I think we can all agree that Mrs. Stanton has earned her place in this newsroom and did not need to sleep her way up the corporate ladder.” Zander smoothed a hand along his crisp shirt. “She is my wife, but you know I'm not biassed. She earned it. She deserves it, and she isn't even a professional reporter; she is an accountant, but her diligent research did more; she delivered me more than anyone here in this room. Is that clear enough?”

“Agreed.” Almera and Gerald reached out, squeezing Elvie’s hand. She was too stunned to react.

“We concur.” Three others raised their palms in surrender.

“She’s the best.” A woman regarded her with a frown, probably for keeping mom from getting freaky with the boss.

She got why a lot of people felt cheated.

Matheo’s assistant who was silent from the other end, tossed Elvie a toothy smile. “You’re the real deal. We all know it.”

But did they? There were at least eight more people in the room, and their silence spoke a thousand words. Elvie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one saw her in the same light anymore. To what degree was the real question?

“Thank you," she managed, refusing to look back at Zander, who stared at her intently now, trying to read between the lines of her deep frown.

She didn’t give him anything.

“With this out of the way..." Zander ran a hand over his square jaw. “Give me something good.”

“Evidently, Elvie already has..." someone coughed from her general direction, but she couldn’t snap her head fast enough to see who it was.

She doesn't think Zander heard it. He wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to berate a cheeky employee.

A woman began talking about the anti-drugs campaign failure, and Gerald butted in with a debt ceiling lead. Zander looked bored out of his mind, leaning back in his chair and staring into the air, his legs crossed over the desk.

“Elvie?”

At least he still called her that, like she was a genderless employee, like nothing had changed.

Because nothing had. She was still a career woman. She was just a career woman who happened to be married to her boss because they were both screwed up.

She flipped Kipling’s pages, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

“I was talking to this guy last night," she started.

“Does Zander know? He always seemed like the possessive type to me,” Gerald jokes, tossing his head back and gulping down a bottle of water with a chuckle.

“Out of my newsroom, Gerald,” Zander barked, looking back at her. “Continue, Elvie.”

She looked between them noiselessly. Gerald furrowed his brows, picked up his things, and shook his head.

“It was a joke,” he whispered.

“Comedy Central is down the block. We make news here.” Zander was still looking at Elvie, but with a jaded expectation, not an ounce of sympathy or affection in his icy blues.

An unbearable tension squeezed the room from the moment Geald realised he’d messed up to the second the door closed behind him.

"Anyway..." Elvie’s face heated, and she kept her eyes on Kipling. “He’s a Syrian journalist living in Germany. His name is Saiid. I found his Twitter account late last night.”

“Or Tinder," James, one of the producers in the room, whispered under her breath.

Sitting at the head of the desk, Zander couldn’t hear it. But she could. And she wanted to die. She deserved it. Even she could see why it would make her peers bitter. While they were chasing leads, she’d been chasing orgasms with the CEO of the network. But who cares? Zander was her husband. Damn it!

Was she thinking too much and overanalyzing everything?

Fuck!

Yes, she was just being a moron and overanalyzing everything. Of course, it's not like it was their business that she fucked her husband. Damn it!

Elvis took a deep breath, borrowing Bella’s iPad silently and entering a web address. “He uploaded this video, documenting Syrian refugees trying to smuggle their way back to Syria…”

“Back to Syria?” Almera raised an eyebrow.

She nodded. “They find it difficult to integrate, and they miss their families. Hundreds of refugees come back into Syria every week, mostly through Greece. They enter their own country illegally, on foot, tracing back over the route they used to run away.”

She clicked on the video and turned it around so everyone could see it. Most of all, she was relieved to find people no longer looking at her like she was the root of all evil. Now they saw toddlers crying in their mothers’ hands, putting their lives at great risk.

“Coverage?” Zander looked up at her after the video ended.

Shaking her head, she pointed at the screen. “This video has only been watched five hundred times or so, but I’m guessing more people will find it as time ticks by. This could be a great lead for the special we’re airing next week.”

“Good job.”

Maybe his words would’ve been more believable if they hadn’t felt like hail hitting her skin. Elvie was growing tired of him being so callous. It’s like his heart was wrapped in a thick layer of dead skin—the kind you have on the sole of your foot. A needle could pierce it, and you wouldn’t feel a thing.

She sighed and bowed her head, not daring to look at the reaction his compliment had created.

People began to file out of the room, and so did Zander. He probably knew she was about to strangle him and didn’t want a shouting match. She stayed inside, watching Almera pretend to collect her things at a snail’s pace.

She looked down as she spoke to her. “Zander did the only thing he could to make sure both your asses were covered. He did it in his own fuck-you-very-much way, but he meant well. You’re about to get a lot of heat for it, but remember—better to address it here than let The Scottish Gossip give people their version of your story, dear."

“Do you think so? I mean, there are many things left unsaid, and I fear that our enemies—”

“They are everywhere, dear! Don't be afraid; we are always by your side.”

Elvie looked up, through the glass wall, and watched the news spread like wildfire—people hunching down and whispering into their colleagues’ ears, secretaries marching out with their cigarette packs so they could gossip downstairs, reporters passing the newspaper someone had brought between them.

“I think he just killed my career." Elvie's head collapsed into her arms on the table.

“Killed? No.” Kate tossed her things into her bag and stood up. “But he just made it a lot harder for both of you. So you better get out there and start proving to people what I already know: that you were born to be. You are not just his wife! You can do better than that!”