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Brent nods. “Sure, Mal, anything you need.”
I’ve got damage control to handle, and hopefully, before anyone realizes I’ve made a terrible mistake with the post. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky and Hilary is already standing at the back exit with a glare pointed at me.
“Mallory,” Hilary says. “We should sit and talk.”
“I don’t have time right now, Hilary. I’ve got some things to take care of.”
She nods, not looking amused. “Right, like the inappropriate picture you posted on their social media accounts?”
“I’m handling it.”
“No, you’re not,” she hisses, then drags me over to the nearest wall and frowns. “I’ve got their team working overtime on it, seeing as it’s already going viral all over the internet.”
“Oh God,” I whisper, then shake my head. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t know how it did. What do you need from me?”
“I just need you to get back to your room and hope that the band won’t demand to have you fired for such a callous mistake.”
“Right.”
Before she can say anything else, I’m hurrying out of the back door and jumping into the car she’s already got waiting for me. It pulls to a stop in front of the hotel a few minutes later, and I quickly slide out without a backward glance. There’s a man standing outside the entrance to the hotel, but I don’t pay him any mind as I hurry past him and through the large double doors.
I’m going to fix this.
I have to… my career depends on it.
Back in my hotel room, I throw myself into damage control mode. The rhythmic tapping of my fingers on the keyboard fills the room, punctuated by the occasional ping of a new notification. Each sound makes me flinch, a reminder of the growing crisis.
The air conditioning hums softly, a stark contrast to the heat of panic rising within me. Outside, the muffled sounds of the city serve as a jarring reminder of the world continuing on, oblivious to the career-threatening disaster unfolding within these four walls.
***
A few hours later, there’s a knock on my door, and I reluctantly push away from the table I’ve been working at answering. Jace is standing in the hallway, holding a paper bag with grease filling the bottom, and he smiles brightly at me. “Brought some fuel. I’m sure you need it.”
I roll my eyes and pull him into the room, suddenly realizing that with everything going on, I haven’t eaten anything today. My stomach growls in response and I snatch the paper bag from Jace’s hands, then lead him over to the table filled with papers.
Jace's presence is both a comfort and a complication. His concern is evident in the way he watches me, in the gentle tone of his voice. But it's also a reminder of why I'm in this mess in the first place. I'm drawn to him, knowing full well I might get burned. The conflict between my heart and my professional responsibilities has never felt more stark.
“Sorry,” I mutter while swiping them into a pile. “Wasn’t expecting company.”
Jace is silent while I make another home for the papers on my bed, and I glance at him. He’s looking at me with a frown on his face. “What is it?”
He shakes his head and sinks into one of the empty chairs. “Everything okay with you?”
How do I tell the guy sitting in front of me that nothing is okay because I can’t stop focusing on him more than my job?
I guess I could just outright tell him, but wouldn’t that make me seem crazy?
“Everything is fine,” I mumble. “What’s with the surprise visit?”
He shrugs. “Just thought you could use the company. You sure everything is okay?”
Maybe I could tell him a sliver of the truth. “I’m distracted, that’s all. It will get better.”I hope.
“Do you need me to do anything?”
I shake my head and frown. “This is my mess, not yours. Food is plenty of help.”
He sits there for a moment, staring at me, searching for the truth in my stare, and for whatever reason, I open my mouth to spill it to him.
