Chapter 82
Chapter 82
The next few days were a blur. Things somehow got both better and worse.
Better, because people had very little time to duck their heads down and whisper about them.
News about their marriage, Kristal's involvement, and their fake divorce echoed the four walls of the Stanton building.
Zander was running around the office, screaming his lungs out at them. They were severely short-staffed, and every calamity in the world had decided to land at their feet.
Worse, because ever since the new ads started rolling, Zander was in and out of meetings on the sixth floor, and every time he came back, he punched a wall to its untimely death. They were four holes in, with their ratings slipping each passing second and their competitors openly discussing their current situation as a network dying a slow, painful, and very public death.
Zander had not been kidding.
Matheo wanted to kill SBC before he left; he had all the shareholders under him, everyone except Zander, and now that Zander was no longer tied to Kristal and in no position to overturn those decisions, he had to watch it crumble, eyes wide open, clockwork orange style.
Zander wasn’t the only one trying to plug SBC into a life-support machine.
He got into a screaming match with Matheo in the middle of the newsroom the day after the commercials started running and threatened to quit.
“You’re ruining this business, and you're me.” He’d thrown a batch of documents in Matheo’s face.
“If you’re unhappy, Zander, you know exactly where the door is.” Matheo had pointed at it for emphasis.
“Yes, old man. You’ve shown it to me plenty. But I’ll never leave here, and we both know why.”
The other downside of SBC’s looming demise was that Zander and Elvie hadn’t had time to talk to each other since the news broke about their marriage.
She was still mad at him, but it was difficult to confront him properly when he was running on coffee and energy shots, trying desperately to save his dying network. It was her educated guess that he hadn’t slept more than ten hours combined this week.
So when Friday evening rolled in, Elvie was surprised to see him walk to her desk, in front of everyone, and lean his hip against her file cabinet, his signature hands-tucked-in-pockets and devil-may-care smirk on full display.
“Wife.”
Shelooked up. He had dark circles around his eyes and a three-day stubble. She desperately wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but there was no point in kicking him while he was down.
“Jerk.”
He arched an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “I thought we nicknamed each other the things that represented us.”
He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her temple. Everybody stopped what they were doing and stared at them, and she felt herself turning crimson. The air stood still in the room. He was gasoline. She was a match.
“Dinner and an apology,” he said—not offered—in front of everyone, so cocky and sure that Elvie would jump into his arms.
“You should probably start with the latter to get the former.” She sat back and looked at him blankly.
He hung his head and shook it, laughing. “I apologise for outing us in a less than diplomatic manner. But not for making sure everyone knows that you’re fucking mine.” He leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. “Hang on to this anger, wife. I’ll be happy to work your crazy ass up in bed and fuck every doubt and complaint out of your tight pussy.”
If Elvie were an emoji, she would be drooling in a little pool under her feet.
“I guess you could buy me dinner.” She kept her expression schooled, and he tugged at her jacket draped over the back of her seat, helping her into it.
“Guessing is a gambling game. I’m definitely buying you dinner tonight.”
“We’re going to have a long talk,” Elvie said, feeling the rest were watching them with horror and fascination.
“And even longer, makeup sex," he grinned.
She didn't think they’d ever seen anyone talk back to their boss. Not that the rumours died down, but who cares? They were married; it's not like they were having an affair. Yes, Kristal was the past, and she was the present, so what? What if they act like a happy couple? Who cares? She thought to herself.
But Zander cares; he doesn't want her hurting, and he doesn't want Elvie used by his enemies.
Thirty minutes later, they were in a Chinese restaurant. Zander was drinking bottled beer as she ordered every single thing on the menu.
“Sorry.” She handed our waiter the velvet-red tariff. “I can’t eat when I’m stressed, and this is the first time we’ve spoken since Monday, so I’m making up for lost time.”
Zander unfolded his napkin, frowning at it like it had accused him of something, considering her words.
“We’re tanking,” she told him. “Matheo is on a suicide mission, and he’s taken all of us as hostages. The only way to stop him is to overthrow his decision with the board, which you can do by teaming up with Kristal’s family. Can you at least ask Kristal? Go directly to her. ”
Every word felt like a sword slicing through her mouth. Elvie was sending him off to the last place she wanted him to be. With his ex.
He fingered the rim of his bottle. “They have their own shit to sort through.”
She rubbed her nose in frustration. “Why did you cancel your contract with her anyway?”
If looks could slap you in the ass, I think his expression just did. She thought.
“Kristal wants me to intervene with her issues with Patrick and all. I know her; she wants to use me against Matheo because she couldn't fight him alone. But I have more pressing matters to worry about. and I don't want her to use me again! ” he said curtly.
“And?”
“And I’d hate to break it to her family that their daughter is a piece of work.”
“But…why?”
“They treated me like a son.”
“So you’re content with being the bad guy?” Elvie blinked, her mouth lax.
“Are we living on the same fucking planet? I am the bad guy.”
He had a point, and Elvie understood where he was coming from, even if it made her uncomfortable that he’d protected Kristal.
“What about SBC?”
He clutched his beer so tightly that she thought it was going to crack, ignoring the steaming dishes the waiter slid onto their table. Elvie wasn’t feeling so hungry anymore.
“I’m listening to offers from other shareholders.”
“What?” She whisper-yelled. “SBC is yours.”
“No. It’s my parents for the foreseeable future. Unlike ninety-nine percent of the general population, I’m both good at my job and I love it. I won’t jeopardise my reputation. I’d rather work somewhere else.”
“What about your staff!”
It was more of an accusation than a question. No matter how much people feared Zander, they respected and were loyal to him, too. He couldn’t just get up and leave. Not in theory, anyway. In practice, Elvie knew better than anyone how he could be taciturn and detached.
“If it comes to that, I’ll make a package deal to take you, Almera, Bella, and Gerald with me. I still have other business to worry about; surely I can offer them positions in my hotels and resorts.”
He stretched in his seat, and Elvie watched the muscles of his arms loop around his bones like ivy, every curve incredibly male. Then she thought about the muscle inside his chest. The one that pounded but didn’t get its recommended exercise.
Matheo was killing him slowly and enjoying doing so. His aunt was mostly indifferent towards everything around her. Zander didn’t have a shot, other than Kristal’s family, and they both knew it.
“And what about us?” she asked quietly. His eyes were cold, but his mouth was red and hot, alive.
“What about us?” His icy tenor glided like an ice cube along my spine. He waved his empty beer bottle at the waiter, signalling for another.
“Are you going to explain that little stint in the newsroom that showed us the item?”
“Probably not. We agreed that it was the best thing to come clean. So I did.”
“Without consulting me.”
“False. I consulted you the night before. I have the text messages to prove it.”
“We agreed to it, but didn’t talk about strategy.” Elvie refused to back off.
“Strategy?"He scoffed. “We’re not running for office, Elvie. Just fucking in one.”
He’d thrown their relationship in everyone’s face, and now he was acting like an asshole because he didn’t know how not to. But she was done—done eating it up every time he threw crumbs of attention her way.
Elvie knew she had to stand up and leave before she cried.
They’d done everything backward.
First the sex, then the feelings. They’d defied their workplace, their colleagues, and their ethical codes. They’d ruined a perfectly dysfunctional plan that had kept his company alive. But most of all, they’d also ruined themselves.