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“You’re almost worse than Gabriel,” she mutters under her breath, but I still catch it all the same. “Listen, can I be blunt?”
I think she’s going to be regardless. I wave my hand forward in aby all meansgesture.
“You’re supposed to be in love. Now, Serena, she’s in love. Torso angled toward you, hand on your jaw, smile on her lips as she kisses you. All great body language. But you? You’re a statue. She might as well be kissing a block of marble.”
I grind my teeth, but it’s not like I can argue with her. The photos from Monday’s benefit finally showed up online, and they weren’t flattering. For me, at least.
“She caught me off guard.”
“Well, get on guard then. Look, if you’re going to have stage fright, then try doing something at home. Take selfies together and post them on ThousandWords. Take a hundred pics if you have to, but find one where you’re relaxed and comfortable. Like you actually want to be next to her.”
“Why is this even so important?”
She gives me a saccharine sweet smile. “Because Mr. Bishop put me in charge of this. And with all due respect, I’m not putting my job at risk over something that’s easily fixable. I’ll come over to your apartment myself and snap pictures of the two of you if I have to.”
I blink. She actually would too. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll take the selfies.”
She relaxes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Archer, you’ve always been a dream to do social media for. You rarely go out unless it’s a business event, you don’t get yourself embroiled in scandals. No messy breakups, no PR nightmares. Not like Gabriel anyway.”
It’s true. Angelina’s handled my ThousandWords profile for years so I don’t have to worry about it, and she’s never once complained.
“But I’m almost regretting signing that NDA now because I can’t vent to anyone about how crazy you’ve made me the last week. I need some positive press, okay? Not a deer trapped in headlights when his wife kisses him.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re pushing it.”
She smirks. “Send me some pictures tonight. I’ll go through them and find the best one to post. Maybe we’ll start aspending time at home togetherkind of campaign, rather thanseen all about town at the hottest events.”
“Whatever you think is best.” That’s why she’s head of Public Relations.
“I’ll have my team brainstorm some ideas for more personal pictures you can take.” She crosses my office, pausing at the door. “I know this doesn’t come natural to you. I appreciate you trying.”
I nod, unsure how to respond.
“You two can pull this off. She’s good for the company image. And for you.”
For Archer, the successor of Bishop Industries, or me… personally?
I findSerena on the couch reading when I get home, her face set in concentration. I shut the door softly so as not to disturb her, but she looks up all the same, smiling at me.
“Another late night?”
I check my watch. “It’s only seven-thirty.”
“But Lori said you leave the house at seven-thirty in the morning. That’s a twelve hour day.”
“Minus travel time and lunch. I left early today, actually.”
“Oh, okay.” She sets her Kindle on the coffee table and stands, heading into the kitchen. “Have you eaten? I can make you something.”
“No, I asked Lori to leave me dinner in the fridge.” I loosen my tie and take off my suit jacket, rolling my shoulders back, the muscles suddenly tight. It’s probably just a Pavlovian response to the idea of her giving me a massage again. I don’t actually need one. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Her eyes widen. “Sure.”
“Did you, uh, see the Manhattan Herald today?”
“The pictures from the benefit? Yeah.”
“Well, then you know what they looked like.”