Page 5 of Executive Privilege (Event Horizons Agency #1)

The Morrison timeline presentation goes flawlessly, and everyone has been assigned their roles in the kickoff meeting internally.

Right now, sitting at my desk sipping on my coffee, thinking about the way Nicholas looked at me when Mr. Morrison shook his hand and said, nodding in my direction, "That one deserves a promotion."

My phone rings, interrupting my attempt to focus on scheduling logistics.

"Sadie Reynolds speaking."

"Is this the sister who's been ignoring my texts all day?" Emma's voice is bright with accusation.

"I've been working, Em."

"Uh-huh. And by working, do you mean ditching me to go on a date with your boss?"

I glance around the office to make sure no one's listening. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you promised to go rock climbing this week, but instead you called me from some fancy restaurant last night while on a date with your boss."

"That was a business dinner. There were other colleagues with us."

"Right. Business dinner. At Le Bernardin. Where they had a violinist."

"How do you know there was a violinist?"

"Because you mentioned it. Twice. Along with how good Nicholas looked in his suit, and how he knew exactly what wine to order."

Shit. I did mention those things, didn't I?

"Emma—"

"Sadie, honey, I love you, but you're terrible at lying. Especially to me." Her voice softens. "What's really going on with this guy?"

I look across the office toward Nicholas's corner office.

"I don't know," I admit quietly. "He's not like other bosses I've had. He's demanding, yes, but he's also... fair. Protective, maybe. And incredibly intelligent."

"And incredibly attractive?"

"And incredibly attractive. But Emma, he's my boss. This is my career. I can't afford to screw this up."

I hear footsteps approaching my desk. I look up to find Nicholas standing there, holding a coffee cup and looking like he wants to ask me a question.

"I have to go."

"Text me. We're not done with this conversation."

I hang up and look at Nicholas, praying my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. “Hi. How was your call?”

“Productive. Morrison’s marketing director had questions about the fall launch, but we’re good.” “I wanted to hear your thoughts on influencer outreach.”

Instead of calling me into his office, he pulls up a chair beside mine. Close. When he leans in to look at my screen, his shoulder nearly grazes mine.

“Walk me through it,” he says.

I pull up my spreadsheet. “Tier one: the big lifestyle influencers. Glossy posts with Morrison watches on yachts and leather bags in first-class lounges. Tier two is micro-influencers. Smaller audiences, but authentic. More trust."

Nicholas nods, his gaze never leaving me. “And tier three?”

“Wild cards. Not in fashion, but aspirational. Travel creators in boutique hotels, fitness coaches with high-end clientele, even tech guys obsessed with sleek design. People who’d make Morrison feel like part of a lifestyle, not just another purchase.”

He studies the list, leaning closer so that now I feel his body heat. Is he trying to torture me? I notice Frankie and Marcus slowly walking by us, pretending to be in discussion, but definitely recording this for the gossip committee.

“Smart. Different angles Morrison’s competitors won’t see coming.”

“It’s a risk,” I admit, “but the payoff could be huge. It fits the rebrand, making Morrison aspirational beyond luxury fashion.”

“How confident are you?”

I turn my head, and he’s already watching me. His focus is so sharp it makes my pulse trip. “Very,” I say, steadier than I feel.

His mouth tilts, just slightly. “Good. I trust your judgment.”

And he doesn’t move away.

The comment sends warmth through my chest, but there's weight in the way he says it—like he's surprised to trust anyone's judgment—that makes me curious about why trust seems significant to him.

"Is there anything else about the Morrison timeline we need to discuss?" I ask, trying to ignore the way my heart speeds up when he looks at me like that.

"Actually, yes. There's a potential complication with the timeline."

"What kind of complication?"

"Morrison wants to include their executive team in the campaign rollout. Personal profiles, behind-the-scenes content, executive interviews."

I frown. "That's not necessarily a complication. It could actually strengthen the authenticity angle if we handle it right. Show that they don't just sell the products, they live the lifestyle too."

"The complication is that they want to fast-track the executive content with a time when all their execs will be in Dallas. Which means we'd need to coordinate photo shoots, interview sessions, and content creation within the next two weeks."

"Two weeks?" I pull up my project timeline, calculating how this new requirement would affect our carefully planned schedule. "That's... tight. By which I mean completely insane."

Nicholas runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I'm starting to recognize as his thinking tell. "It's impossible with our current resource allocation. Unless we bring in additional help or reallocate more team members from other projects."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that you and I might need to handle the executive content personally. Direct client management, on-site coordination, hands-on content supervision."

I immediately like the idea of working that closely with Nicholas. We work really well together. Plus, he makes everything easier because he can literally make executive decisions without hesitation.

"What would that involve?"

"Probably a trip to Morrison's headquarters in Dallas. Three or four days on-site to manage the photo shoots and conduct the executive interviews."

"When would we leave?"

"Next week. Tuesday through Friday, possibly extending to Monday if the content creation takes longer than expected."

Four or five days in Dallas. With Nicholas. Working closely together, probably sharing meals, definitely spending more time alone than we ever have in the office.

"That works for me," I say, proud of how professional I sound despite the butterflies currently staging a revolt in my stomach.

"Good. I'll have Jennifer coordinate the travel arrangements." He starts to get up, then pauses. "Sadie, you should know that Morrison specifically requested that you lead the executive content strategy. They are really impressed with you."

"Really?"

"Really. And so am I."

"I do love to be praised," I say, jokingly. "Seriously though, thank you for saying that."

"You earned it." He stands up, putting distance between us. "Jennifer will email you the details for the Dallas trip."

After he walks away, I sit at my desk trying to process what just happened. A business trip with Nicholas Blackwood. Four days of working closely together, probably staying in the same hotel, and definitely spending more time alone than my concentration will be able to handle.

I pick up my phone and text Emma.

"Business trip to Dallas. Next week. Just the two of us."

Her response is immediate: "That's not business, honey. That's an opportunity."

"It's work, Emma."

"Uh-huh. In a hotel. In another city. Where no one from your office will be watching."

I delete the conversation, suddenly nervous about the whole thing.

"Sadie!" Frankie appears at my desk with her usual warm smile. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Good ghost or bad ghost?"

"Nicholas and I are going to Dallas next week for the Morrison executive content."

Frankie's eyebrows shoot up. "Just the two of you? That's... interesting."

She probably can't wait to run back to Marus to tell him. "Just remember to pack clothes for more than work meetings. Dallas has great restaurants."

The idea of four days alone with Nicholas Blackwood terrifies and excites me in equal measure.

My computer chimes with a new email from Jennifer, and I open it immediately.

Morrison Industries Executive Content - Dallas Trip Details

Sadie - Preliminary schedule attached. Fly out Tuesday morning, return Friday evening. Morrison has arranged for you to stay at the Four Seasons downtown, which is walking distance from their headquarters.

***

At six o'clock, most of the office has cleared out, but I'm still at my desk when I hear footsteps approaching.

"Still here?" Nicholas appears beside my desk, carrying his laptop bag and wearing that slightly rumpled end-of-day look that makes him seem a thousand times more approachable.

"Just looking at the Morrison executive profiles and framework."

"Mind if I take a look?"

Instead of asking me to email him the document, Nicholas moves a chair to the spot beside my desk where he sat earlier. When he leans over to read my screen, I can feel the warmth of his body again. I could get used to that warmth.

"This is comprehensive," he says, scrolling through my analysis of Morrison's executive team. "You've identified personality types, communication styles, even potential talking points that would resonate with different audience segments."

"I figured the more we know about their individual strengths, the better we can tailor the content to feel authentic rather than scripted."

"Smart." He pauses on my analysis of Morrison's CEO. "This observation about his tendency toward technical details versus emotional messaging—how did you pick up on that?"

"Body language during the presentations. When we talked about market data and competitive analysis, he leaned forward, asked specific questions, and seemed genuinely engaged. But when we discussed brand emotional connection and customer sentiment, he deferred to his marketing director."

Nicholas turns to look at me, and there's admiration in his expression. "You were reading the room at that level of detail during your own presentation?"

"It's pattern recognition. Like climbing, actually—you read the route while you're on it."

"Climbing?" Nicholas raises an eyebrow, and I realize I've just revealed personal information about myself.

"Rock climbing. It's my stress relief hobby. Probably sounds weird to someone who plays guitar."

"You know I play guitar?"

"You mentioned it Thursday night when we were all at dinner." I feel heat rise in my cheeks.

There's a pause, and Nicholas is looking at me with an expression I can't quite read. "Rock climbing sounds... challenging."

"Only if you don't know what you're doing. But there's a focus required, clears everything else out of your head." I glance at him. "I imagine guitar does the same for you."

"Similar effect," he says quietly.

"What made you choose marketing?" he asks, surprising me with the personal question.

"I like solving puzzles where the pieces are people. Figuring out what motivates someone, what they care about, what would make them change their mind about anything."

"And you're good at figuring people out?"

"Usually. Though some people are harder to read than others."

I glance at him briefly before looking back at my computer screen, and his expression suggests he knows I might be talking about him specifically.

"What about you? What made you start Event Horizons?"

The question seems to catch him off guard. But after a moment, he answers.

"I wanted to build something that was mine. Control over my own decisions, my own future."

There's weight in his voice when he talks about control—hints of a story he's not sharing. But I don't push.

"That makes sense. Independence is important."

"We should probably both head home," Nicholas says, glancing at his watch."

We pack up our things in comfortable silence, and once again find ourselves walking to the elevator together. The building is quiet at this hour, most of the offices are dark and we're alone in the empty corridor.

"Sadie," Nicholas says as we wait for the elevator. "I want you to know that this Dallas trip is because you've established yourself as the go-to here, not about... anything else."

The comment should probably reassure me, but there's something in his tone that suggests he's trying to convince himself as much as me.

"Of course. And it's a great opportunity to establish an even closer relationship... with Morrison's team."

Nicholas shifts slightly beside me. "Exactly."

The elevator arrives, and we ride down in silence as I try desperately to suppress the images from my elevator fantasy.

But I can't shake the feeling that Nicholas's clarification was less about setting appropriate expectations and more about establishing boundaries he's worried about crossing. That I'm worried about crossing too.

In the parking garage, he walks me to my car again—a habit that's becoming familiar and is definitely not helping my ability to maintain professional distance.

"Drive safely, Sadie."

"Always do."

Emma was right about one thing: next week is definitely going to be an opportunity.

The question is whether it's an opportunity for professional growth, personal disaster, or both.