Page 26 of Accidental Dad’s Best Friend (Unintentionally Yours #7)

Ethan

“ W ell look who decided to show up before two in the afternoon.” Liam’s voice echoes through the front of the office as soon as I walk in the building.

Normally that would make me grit my teeth.

But not today. Today…is gameday. Today I am not just walking into Next Best Thing.

I am walking into battle, Trojan horse style.

Nobody knows I am here. Nobody knows what’s coming.

“Good morning to you too, boss.”

He stares at me.

I grin at him.

And Rose, who is sitting between us, has no idea what to think. The nervous smile on her face hints that she knows better than to stay in the line of fire, though.

“Would you like me to do a coffee run?” She asks.

“That’s fine,” Liam says without looking at her. His eyes are still on me, scanning my face for any clues at what I’m up to. He’s not going to find anything. “I’ll take my usual.”

“Of course,” she nods, grabbing her purse and getting up. She practically ducks as she moves around me to get to the door.

“I’ll take an americano with cream–”

“No sugar.” She finishes my sentence. “Yes, sir. I mean Ethan. I mean–”

“That’s all, Rose,” Liam snaps. She leaves and Liam’s lips curve into a suspicious smile. “Walk with me, Savage.”

I follow him to his office. I know where this is going. He’s going to beat around the bush, try to get me to admit I was an ass the other day, and if I don’t, he’ll shoot me with enough passive aggressive jabs that I’ll snap at him and then he can come at me with two loaded guns instead of one.

Again, normally I would care. But today is different, although it’s still exhausting.

“Take a seat, Savage.” He gestures, closing the door and walking over to his desk. “Drink?”

“I’m good,” I answer as I sit down in front of him. I’m not looking to get drunk before noon. Not today.

“Don’t be a wet mop, Savage. I got a new bottle of bourbon. Triple barrel. He pulls the bottle out and sets it on the desk along with two glasses before his eyes meet mine. “I insist.”

AKA– Liam Sloane wants to make amends. Why? I couldn’t tell you. Unless he needs something.

He pours about a shot in each highball glass and hands me one. I take a sip and it burns.

“You know Chad never came back around.” He holds a tight grin after downing half his glass.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“You know the shady shit he’s doing for Muscle would have been a great article for us.”

“Remind me again why that’s our business?” I ask, leaning back and turning my glass in my hand.

“Because it’s good for business. And in case you haven’t realized, we are a business magazine.”

Business and gossip are two different things.

Things that should have nothing to do with each other.

But I don’t say that. Even though that is normally what I would say.

I need to smooth things over. I need there to be no friction, no reason for him to get on my case about anything today.

So I down the rest of my whiskey and set the glass on the table.

I need the extra juice to force the next sentence from my mouth.

“Guess that was my bad.”

His lips tick in the hint of a smile and he pours me another glass. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was trying to get me drunk. Sloppy. Maybe he does know something…

“You know what your problem is, Savage?” He pours another two fingers of bourbon in his own glass and passes mine to me.

I work for you?

I’ve never told you to shove it where the sun don’t shine before?

I’m fucking your daughter behind your back?

“No, but if I had to guess you’re going to tell me.”

“You…are too soft. Look around you. We are working in one of the most highly competitive and yet rapidly dying industries on the planet. There’s no room for compassion, Savage.”

Clearly.

“Mm,” I respond indifferently, sipping on the bourbon. I’m savoring it at this point.

“But you’ve always been a heart on your sleeve kind of man. It’s a shortcoming of yours I have turned a blind eye to over the years. But it’s getting a little harder to do. It’s making you sloppy.”

My teeth are gritted like a vice. This is the part where I would usually bolt from the chair.

Slam the glass on the desk. Tell him to fuck off.

This is the part where I would walk out if I could.

But I’ve never been able to. I realized long ago that Liam has always had a shock collar on me.

If I leave, he will do to me what he’s doing to everyone else.

My name would be the headliner for his next blasphemous article.

My neck would be in the guillotine. And my career as an editor in American journalism would be toast.

I say nothing. At least nothing in my own defense.

Instead, I stroke his ego. At this point, it feels like I’m stroking more than that.

The man has me on my knees and he knows it.

But I keep the goal at hand at the forefront of my mind.

It’ll all be over soon. The magazine goes to print tomorrow. After tonight, it’ll all be over.

“I guess that’s why you’re the owner and I’m not,” I say.

He grins. It’s almost entertaining watching him eat my words, not realizing they’re laced.

“Ain’t that the truth. Here’s a thought.

I have a lot of meetings today. Chad may be gone but Brews News is coming in hot.

Can you believe microbreweries are even a thing?

Apparently big enough that there’s actually a magazine about it.

And I have a meeting with their CEO today. Guess where we are meeting?”

“A brewery.”

“Fucking ridiculous. It’s an easy shot, though. We’ll just write up a paragraph or two about the scam that is overpriced beer and watch them walk out with their tails between their legs. IPA bros gonna cry themselves to sleep for a hot minute when we show them what’s what.”

“Never did understand why people drink IPAs. Too hoppy,” I answer just to agree with him.

“Why don’t you make the rounds today?” He nods at me.

“Make sure everyone is on track and bring down the hammer on anyone who isn’t.

I know you like letting your writers off leash.

Creative freedom and all that. But sometimes if you want a job done well, you gotta yank on that collar from time to time. Get a yelp out of them.”

“I can do that,” I nod with no intention whatsoever of actually doing that. But if taking over his office strutting gets him out of the building and out of my hair, I’ll agree to it.

My phone buzzes and I glance down at it with only my eyes. It’s Izzy. I can feel it. And I have to make sure he doesn’t see.

I shove it in my pocket and shove myself from the seat. “Well, speaking of business, I should get started on that.”

I make my way out, glad to finally be done with it. With all of it. The meeting, this office, everything. But just as I am about to pass through the threshold of freedom, he calls me back.

“Savage?”

I stop. Take a breath. Turn back to him.

“What’s going on with you recently?’

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You just seem distracted lately. And today, there’s something different. A fire. You finally coming around to doing your job?” He chuckles at his own jab.

I give him a half-shrug of complete indifference. “I guess I just see things for what they are and I’m ready to make a change.”

Liam takes another gulp of whiskey and points a finger at me. “That’s what I like to hear. Crush em, Savage.”

“Plan to,” I mumble with a satisfied grin as I head down the hall.

Izzy- I need to talk to you about something…

The text Izzy sent earlier has been left on read.

Between my whiskey infused bitch slap meeting with Liam, running back and forth between my office and the main floor, I haven’t had time to respond.

If I had to guess, she’s worried again. It’s understandable, but I need her to trust me.

Everything we are doing is built on trust.

I’m not doing what he told me to do, by the way.

I’m showing face in the cubicles, checking what everyone is working on, and shooting the shit.

Like I always do. I even make a point of ordering the office lunch from a nearby pub, wracking up a pretty penny on NBT’s company card.

Kind of a farewell party. One last hoorah, if you will.

Not to mention a big finger up.

“You should be in charge more often,” Steve, one of the editors below me, says as he piles more loaded baked potato salad on his plate with a grin.

Steve is a good guy. A nice guy. The exact kind of guy that Liam hires.

He doesn’t like strong personalities, that would run the risk of someone trying to challenge him.

Instead, he hires a bunch of Steves. Steves always stay in line.

But I am not a Steve.

I grin at him, watching with a bittersweet smile as everyone takes an extra long lunch. In t-minus-17 hours, this place will be on fire. And even though Liam is going to figure it all out pretty fast, it doesn’t mean some of these heads aren’t going to roll.

I check my phone again, feeling bad that I’ve blown her off this long.

Ethan- We can talk as soon as I get home, which will be late since I have to wait until everyone else is gone to do the deed. But I promise you, sweetheart, it’s going to be fine. Everything is going like clockwork right now.

Izzy- It’s not about any of that. It’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a long time and it just can’t wait anymore.

Unfortunately, it’s going to have to. Because in just a few hours the building is going to clear out and everything that Liam has been building, everything I thought I wanted to build with him, is going to come down. But Izzy and I are going to walk away from it all unscathed.

That night, I stay in my office for an hour or so after the staff leaves. Other than Rose, it’s just me and the janitor who takes a little longer than usual thanks to our in office barbecue. Once he is on his way home, I come out into the lobby and find Rose at her desk.

“You always work this late?” I ask and she jumps.

“Mr. Savage, you scared me.” She smiles with red cheeks as she presses her hand to her chest.

“I’ve told you before you can call me Ethan. I’m not Liam.”

“Right,” she nods.

“Don’t you have a son to get home to?” I ask.

“I have a sitter for nights I work late.”

“What’s Sloane got you doing now?”

“Just a little sidework, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“You know, I don’t think you get paid enough,” I tell her, looking out the window at the parking lot. “You deserve a boss that pays you for everything you do, not just what he hired you to do.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” she says, grabbing a few things and shoving them in her bag.

“Well I’m in charge tonight. And I say get home to your kid. He’s lucky to have you.”

She blushes and I glance down at my phone. Nothing new from Izzy. I’ve probably upset her.

“Do you have anyone special in your life?” Rose asks and I look up.

“You could say that.”

“How nice,” she says after a moment. “She’s lucky to have you. Any woman would be.”

I nod and make my way down the hall. With Rose getting ready to leave, I need to get moving.

First stop is Steve’s desk, actually. While I am the head of editing, he is my right hand man and usually keeps the most up to date version of the magazine loaded and ready for print.

If edits are made on his side, they’ll update in the system before publication.

I am able to access everything using my username and password. I have the power to override everyone’s systems. It's for security, in case someone is ever fired or simply doesn’t show up. We need access to everything that is legally ours.

I plug in the flash drive and transfer Izzy’s article.

It’s an old school way to do it but I want it to be untraceable.

If I log into my account, it will show in the server’s history.

The blame would go to Steve and then me, possibly even Izzy.

While he’s obviously going to figure shit out soon enough (and I want him to) I want to keep collateral damage to a minimum for the time being.

I check and double check the article I am replacing (one a I asked a girl named Lindy to write about the long term effect AI is having on artists) with Izzy’s article– Hemorrhage: How A Man’s Weapon Will Be His Own Ruin.

Even the title she chose gives me chills. I close everything up feeling both relief and anxiety. It’s like the hum of electricity that tingles over your skin before lightning strikes.

I make my way back down the dark hall ready to head out. But then I notice a light still on. It’s my office. I stop in the doorway, glancing around with my hand on the switch. But right before I flip it off, I stop.

There’s another manila envelope on my desk.

My heart screeches to a halt in my chest as I slowly walk over. It feels the same in my hand as the other. Same weight, same stiffness. Glossy eight by tens if I had to put money on it. I’m hoping I’m wrong. But I know I’m not.

I know it in my gut.

I swallow back the bile in my throat and open it, pulling out several photographs. My heart swoops inside me.

It’s Izzy.

She’s in a hospital bed, wearing a gown, smiling. She’s younger, about five years or so. And she’s holding a baby. Jaxon, I assume.

For a moment I don’t understand the significance. Until I flip to the next photo.

It’s the glass bassinet next to the bed. It’s empty other than a receiving blanket. Again, I don’t get it. Until I do. The bassinet is labeled with the birth announcement.

October 10th, 2020.

6lb 4oz.

21 inches.

St. Mary’s Regional Hospital, Grand Junction, Colorado.

9:47am.

But that’s not what hits me in the gut like a wrecking ball. All of that information is normal. Irrelevant. It’s the name that has my jaw unhinged, my mouth slack, my eyes unblinking.

Jaxon Ethan Savage.