Page 3 of Executive Privilege (Event Horizons Agency #1)

The Morrison Industries presentation was even more successful than I hoped.

Too successful, if that's possible. Morrison's CEO, Mr. Morrison, called this morning, wanting to expand the project scope significantly.

What started as a rebrand has turned into a complete marketing overhaul—they want Event Horizons to handle their digital strategy, social media campaigns, and media placement.

Work that's currently split between three different agencies.

The office after hours feels different. Quieter, obviously, and most of the overhead lights are dimmed, leaving only desk lamps and the glow from computer screens.

Without the usual buzz of phone calls and conversations.

..and gossiping, I can hear the hum of the building's ventilation system and the distant sounds of Austin traffic fifteen floors below.

I'm deep in a complicated calculation involving print timelines and media placement when I hear footsteps on the marble floor.

Nicholas appears in my peripheral vision, carrying his laptop and takeout from the Thai place down the street.

"Working late, Ms. Reynolds." It's a statement, not a question.

"Morrison wants to consolidate all their marketing with us—digital, social, media buying, everything.

Which means I need approvals for vendor contracts and budget allocations, so I thought I'd get them ready for you when come in tomorrow.

But here you are. Stay tuned to watch me pull a rabbit out of my . ..uh, hat next."

My mouth is going to get me in trouble someday.

Nicholas just raises an eyebrow. "I'm aware. That's why I'm here."

I finally glance up at him. He's loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves again, which somehow makes him look more human and more attractive at the same time. There's something personal about seeing Nicholas Blackwood in a slightly unpolished state that's doing things to me.

"I'm here to help you work on Morrison implementation.

I got a notification that you used your fob to enter the office.

This expansion affects multiple departments, and you're going to need someone with signing authority for these vendor contracts.

I guess we were on the same page, again.

I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a bottleneck. So I'm here for you to use me."

He pauses. "For my signing authority."

Was that a joke? I literally can't tell with him.

He sets the takeout bag on my desk. "Pad thai with chicken, medium spice. Jennifer told me it's your usual order."

I stare at the bag, then at Nicholas. "You brought me dinner."

"I bought us both dinner. I'm going to be here as long as you are, and I don't function well on an empty stomach. Did you eat already?"

"No. Nope. I went home, took a shower, stress ate a muffin, and headed back here. If I can't wind down and enjoy 90 Day Fiancé, I might as well be at work."

Nicholas just gives me a small smile. Not a smile, but his lip definitely twitched on the side. So I'll mark that down as a point for me.

There's a surreal quality to Nicholas Blackwood bringing me pad thai and offering to work late on my project. Three weeks ago, he was the intimidating CEO I glimpsed through glass meeting room walls. Now he's sitting at the desk next to mine, opening his laptop like this is completely normal.

He is too big for the basic office chairs out here, almost comically so. His knees are jutting up and knocking into the underside of the desk. Finally, he gets frustrated and turns sideways, facing me and placing his laptop on the corner of the desk, giving me a rueful smirk.

"Tall man problems," I say.

I open the takeout container, and the smell of basil and lime makes me realize I'm starving. "Thank you. But you don't need to stay. I can handle the vendor coordination."

"I'm sure you can. But Morrison's media budget is significant enough that it needs executive approval, and some of these vendors will need contract modifications that require C-level sign-off.

" He glances at me. "Unless you'd prefer to handle those conversations tomorrow morning - but since we're here, we can get ahead of schedule.

We'll be at an advantage if anything comes up later this way. "

Point taken. And it's a good one. Having Nicholas here will cut my timeline by hours, maybe days.

We work in surprisingly comfortable silence for the first hour. He handles vendor contracts while I focus on project scheduling and resource allocation. Occasionally, he'll ask me a question about timeline dependencies, or I'll need his approval for a budget item, but mostly we just... work.

It should be awkward. Nicholas Blackwood has a reputation for being intense and demanding, and I'm still new enough that I should probably be nervous about screwing up in front of him.

Instead, I find myself stealing glances at him while he reviews contracts.

There's something appealing about watching him work—the way he focuses completely on whatever document is in front of him, the efficiency of his decision-making, the occasional furrow between his eyebrows when he encounters a detail that requires more consideration.

"Problem with the Phillips Media contract?" I ask when I notice he's been staring at the same page for several minutes.

"They're requesting a clause that gives them exclusive rights to Morrison's media strategy for eighteen months. That's... aggressive."

I lean over to look at his screen, which means I'm suddenly close enough to smell his cologne—expensive and subtle. It's fresh-smelling and reminds me of ...lemongrass. It's making me want to lean in even closer.

Focus, Sadie.

"Phillips always tries that clause. But look at section twelve. We added a standing performance benchmark requirement that basically voids the exclusivity if they don't meet specific metrics."

Nicholas reads through section twelve, then looks at me with what I'll label as impressed approval. "How did you know that?"

"I spent my first week here reviewing all our preferred vendors. Phillips has used this same contract template for years, and they've never once met the performance benchmarks required to enforce exclusivity."

"So it doesn't have teeth."

"Exactly. They get to look aggressive and protective of their client relationships, but in practice, the clause is meaningless."

Nicholas signs the contract with a decisive stroke. "Useful information to have."

"That's why you pay me the medium-sized bucks."

The corner of his mouth definitely quirked upward that time.

I'm sitting closer than necessary to review the contract; it's like he has a gravitational pull I'm caught in.

I'm close enough that I can see the faint lines around his eyes.

His hair is slightly mussed from running his hands through it.

When he turns to look at me, something in his gaze makes my breath catch, and I wonder if I've overstepped his boundaries.

"You're very good at this."

"At what?"

"Seeing through the bullshit. Finding the real story in the details."

There's weight in his voice that suggests he's not just talking about vendor contracts, but I can't quite figure out what he means.

"It's just pattern recognition. Once you know what to look for, most business negotiations follow predictable scripts."

"And you've always been good at pattern recognition?"

"I've always been good at seeing when people aren't telling me the whole truth."

The words hang in the air between us, loaded with implications I didn't intend. Nicholas is looking at me with an expression I can't read—professional interest mixed with personal curiosity, maybe? Hopefully.

"Morrison Industries just became our largest account. If we can successfully manage this expanded scope, it positions Event Horizons as a full-service agency."

Nicholas studies my project schedule, scrolling through the various dependencies and deadlines. "What if we brought in additional resources?"

"You mean hire freelancers?"

"Yes, and reallocate internal resources. Pull people from other projects, restructure team assignments, treat Morrison like the priority account it's becoming."

I stare at him. "You'd do that? Reorganize other projects just to accommodate Morrison's timeline?"

"You've started something here. I'm going to help you finish it. You coming in here and pointing out our mistakes with the Morrison account is resulting in big things for my agency. I don't think you'll be making medium bucks for very long here, Sadie."

The compliment is enough to swell my ego into next week, but hearing him call me by my first name, the way he said it, more softly than everything else, that's what has my heart stuttering in my chest.

I have to look away to collect myself. "Okay.

" I pull up the resource allocation spreadsheet.

"Let's get Marcus from creative to give us one of his best team members to join the project full- time, and Sangeeta from digital marketing to do the same, and we can get the interns focused on influencer outreach. "

By midnight, we have an implementation plan that's bulletproof.

"This will work," I say, leaning back in my chair and stretching muscles that are stiff from hours of hunching over my laptop.

"This will work," Nicholas agrees. "The question is whether the timeline is realistic from a quality perspective."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we can handle this expansion, but taking on this much new work requires careful planning. And this rebrand is too important to Morrison's future to risk on an arbitrary deadline."

I look at the timeline we've just created—aggressive but achievable.

"So what's the approach?"

"I'm suggesting we present Morrison with a phased approach—prioritize the core rebrand elements first, then layer in the digital and social components."