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I knock the paparazzi to the ground with a single punch and then help the shaken woman to her feet. The paparazzi groans, but I ignore him, giving all my attention to Candace. She grabs onto my shoulders as I do so, and I let her put her weight on me. "Are you okay?" I ask, my voice laced with concern.
She nods, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers.
I wrap my arm around her protectively and guide her back to her apartment, stopping only long enough to message my driver to let him know to have the paparazzi taken care of. He’ll be arrested, I’m sure, considering that his harassment was caught on my dashcam, and I hope this has set an example for anyone else who wants to mess with Candace.
“Come back to my place tonight,” I tell her once we’re inside, and though she’s shaken, she refuses.
“I can’t, I’m sorry. I appreciate what you did…but I can’t be run out of my own home. I refuse to be that afraid.”
When I pull back to look at Candace, it’s with a new amount of respect. Sweet, yet incredibly brave. She’s more perfect than I ever could have dreamed. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself consider falling for someone and making a family that having these thoughts about Candace shakes me to my core. But life has grown boring alone, and maybe a little shaking up is what I need.
I hold her close until the anger burning inside me finally fades out. I know I should respect her decision, but I’m not used to hearing the word no. I kiss her on the top of her head before backing up, holding her shoulders in my hands so I can look down at her.
“It wasn’t a question, sweetheart. You’re coming home with me. No arguments,” I tell her firmly, and while I see that she wants to protest, it’s obvious that Candace is still a little shaken by the ambush. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she nods once.
“Okay, you win…” She sounds dejected. I, on the other hand, feel triumphant.
“I always do, Candace. Now, pack a bag, and let’s get you home.”
3
CANDACE
It’s Monday, and while I have no real reason to be anxious, I still am. I stayed with Cannon in his guest room Friday night and Saturday night, and he was a perfect gentleman, but I just couldn’t fathom having to come to work with him from his penthouse. The gossip would never cease. I thought that if I slept at my own place and tried to get things back to normal, everything would be just fine. There would be no fallout from my date with Cannon and the ambush by the paparazzi.
I was very, very wrong.
Walking into the building, nothing seems off as I greet the secretary and head for the third floor, where I am an intern. Most of the top writers have private offices, but I and the other low-level workers are crammed in cubicles with little to no privacy. It’s annoying at times, but it doesn’t bother me most of the time.
Today, though, is different. The first journalist I check in on, to see if he has any work for me, is cold and standoffish, shooing me away as quickly as he can. The second, an older woman, laughs as soon as she sees me.
“I’m surprised to see that you’re here today! I thought you would be too good for us peons now,” she quips. “But if you’re here among the commoners, I would love an oat milk latte.”
It takes me a second to register what she’s saying to me, but when it becomes clear that she’s referencing my date with Cannon, I feel my cheeks go red. I mumble an agreement to get her drink and walk away as quickly as I can, keeping my head down as I make my way to the office cafe.
I might be imagining things, but it feels like even the cafe workers know something is off with me, and I avoid their eyes while they make the coffee. One for the woman writer, and one for me—a double espresso. I’m not usually a heavy caffeine drinker in the morning, but I figure with the way things are going, I’ll need the extra pep in my step.
I drop the latte off, scrambling out of the room before she can say anything else, confident that things will be better on the intern floor. I take the stairs to avoid anyone in the elevator and breathe a sigh of relief as I get out on the fourth floor.
Which, I realize immediately, was a mistake.
If I thought the scrutiny had been bad before, it was at a fever pitch on the intern floor. The chatter starts the second someone notices me. I try to keep my head down once more, just wanting to get to my desk and start my edits, but someone calls out, “Welcome to work, Mrs. Croft!”
Everyone but me bursts out laughing, and it’s all I can do to continue to my desk and not flee. Once I’m there, I sit my bag down and try to disappear behind the three thin white walls, but it’s no use.
I can hear them mocking me, everything. This is everything I feared, and now it’s coming to fruition…after only a single date.
I should have never accepted that dance, let alone the opera date. And then there’s what I did to Cannon in the private opera box, falling to my knees in front of him and getting him off with my mouth so impulsively. At least that isn’t public knowledge. I’d have to become a hermit if so.
Why am I so convinced that this man is worth all this trouble, and why do Istillthink that way even while enduring this?
I can't believe this is happening. I’ve never meant for things to go this far with the boss. It all started as just a harmless text message. Sure, I had a crush on Cannon before all of this happened, but so did every other woman working at the company, it seems like. I never thought it would amount to anything, even after the dance we shared, but Cannon made it abundantly clear that he is into me.
We started flirting and one thing led to another and now we're secretly…what, dating? I don’t know what to call it. We went on one, maybe two real dates if you count a lunch stop at a coffee shop, and I stayed at his house for two days. But I just don’t know if that counts as dating. But I like Cannon a lot, age gap or not. I know it's wrong, and I know it could get me into a lot of trouble, but I just can't help the way I feel.
I try to keep my head down and focus on my work, but it's hard. I can't shake the feeling that everyone is talking about me. I feel like I'm under a microscope, and any wrong move I make will be scrutinized. I'm not sure how to handle this.
Do I deny it? Do I tell the truth and risk my job? I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. No matter how many times Cannon tells me not to worry about anyone else’s opinion at work, it isn’t so easy. He isn’t here dealing with all of this. I've worked so hard to get where I am, and I don't want to throw it all away for a relationship. But at the same time, I can't just ignore my feelings.
