Page 17 of The CEO I Hate

Mia popped to her feet as Paula and the rest of the writers started to congratulate her. I reached my hand out to shake hers. Professional. Cordial. She took it, leaning in close.

“Bet those were words you never thought you’d say,” she whispered.

I squeezed her hand, then let it go and stepped back, raising my voice so everyone would hear me. “Before we all start celebrating too hard, I just want to make it clear that I’m going to be monitoring the writing process very closely.”

I locked eyes with Mia to make sure she understood that what I meant wasI’m going to be monitoringyouvery closely.Because after this situation with Lyle, I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

“A writers’ room with the CEO hanging around,” she said. “That sounds super fun.” She tilted her chin up as if to saychallenge accepted.

I tugged her closer, so only she’d hear my next words. “Don’t give me a reason to regret this.”

6

MIA

“We should totally go out for lunch,” Jerome said as we poured out of the conference room. And by “we,” he meant me and the other writers. Liam and Paula had stayed behind to whisper about paperwork or contracts or world domination or whatever it was execs talked about when the peons weren’t around to hear them.

Jerome linked his arm through mine. “I was thinking bagels earlier, but now we’re totally going for sushi!”

“Nothing says congratulations like cold fish,” Kait laughed.

“Um, sometimes it’s warm,” Jerome shot back. “There’s an amazing little place like a block from here. They make you pay for what you can’t eat, but I feel like this group can crush it. You like sushi, don’t you?”

“Love it,” I said, feeling like I’d just passed another test.

“Excellent.” Jerome dragged me down the hall and out of the building. I tried to keep track of the twists and turns—I had a lousy sense of direction, and this place was a real maze—but he was moving too fast, and my thoughts were too jumbled for me to think straight.

I still didn’t quite know what to think as I replayed the interview in my head. I could almost feel the weight of Liam’s hand in mine, that phantom grip lingering like his whispered words against my cheek:I’m not gonna let you screw this up.

Well, I’d show him. I was about to be the best damn staff writer this studio had ever seen. No way in hell was I going to screw this up now that I finally had a job. An honest to God, real TV writing gig. A paid gig! For one of my favorite shows. Holy freaking hell.

“I’m so hungry,” Tanya said as we crossed the street. “Frustration gives me the munchies, and do you know how many horrible interviews we had to sit through until you showed up?”

I chuckled.

“It was almost unbearable,” she continued. “This one guy wouldn’t stop talking! Ugh, like damn, read the room, dude.”

“I don’t even know how Paula got him to leave,” Jerome said, laughing as we arrived at the restaurant. “It was so smooth.”

Kait nodded. “That’s some sort of divine power.”

Inside, we were escorted to a booth by a waitress who took our drink orders and then left us to peruse the menu for a while. We settled on edamame, several different rolls, and a plate of sashimi.

“You come here a lot?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Jerome said around a mouthful of fish. “Whenever we need a pick-me-up.”

“Which, for Jerome, is about once a week. He has a lot to complain about,” Tanya joked.

“Is it my fault I had boyfriend drama at the same time as the whole Lyle-is-a-horrible-boss nonsense?”

“Don’t forget the lengthy discussions about your love-hate relationship with reality TV,” Kait said.

“Ugh, I’m obsessed,” Jerome told me. “But it’s unhealthy. Don’t mentionThe Real Housewives.”

“Which ones?” I asked.

“Any of them.”