Page 31 of The CEO I Hate (The Lockhart Brothers #1)

LIAM

“ Y ou need to see this!” Paula said, marching into my office, the sharp clip of her heeled boots cutting through my thoughts as my hands paused above my keyboard. Carl chased after her, but I waved him away.

People bursting into my office unannounced was usually a no-go, but Paula wasn’t one to make a fuss over nothing, and the look on her face concerned me. Whatever was going on, I needed to hear about it—right away.

I didn’t get the chance to ask. Because as she stormed in, so did the dog.

Ash trotted in like he’d been personally invited, tail wagging, paws click-clicking across the hardwood floor.

“Is this dog haunting me?” I asked.

“Someone left the conference room door open,” Paula said flatly. “He’s been sniffing around all morning. Already stole half a bagel and pissed on Carl’s laptop bag.”

“Of course he did. ”

Ash trotted over, yawned like he owned the place, and curled up at my feet in a shaggy, smug pile of fur.

“You can thank him later.” Paula shoved her cat-eye glasses up her forehead as she stuffed her phone under my nose.

“What is it?” I demanded, pulling back enough to get a good look at the screen.

“Watch the video.”

I hit play. Lyle, my former showrunner, stood there giving an interview at some red carpet event downtown.

The woman interviewing him held a mic between them. “Will there be any future for you and End in Fire ?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Lyle said. “The studio and I have been in touch recently, in fact. We’ve had some long conversations that included an apology on their part.” He winked and whispered that last bit like he was sharing a secret. “You could say they’re begging me to return.”

“Begging?” the interviewer said. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“That I’ll be returning to the writers’ room for season two after all?” he said, flashing a dashing smile at the camera. “You bet.”

What the fuck?

“You’ve heard it here first, folks!” the interviewer said excitedly. “Can you give us any clues about what to expect in season two?”

“We’ve got some very juicy storylines coming your way,” Lyle said. “And I’m glad we could put our creative differences aside to really make this production shine. Most of all, I’m so grateful for the fans who have supported us—supported me—in this journey. ”

The interviewer turned to the camera. “This has been Three, Two, One, Action! with all your behind-the-scenes scoops.”

Paula took her phone back. I could feel my blood pressure rising, the pulse in my forehead throbbing. “What fucking apology is he talking about? Did you reach out to him?”

“Like hell I did!” Paula said, sitting down in the chair across from my desk. “That little weasel? Why would I want to invite him back here to take my job?”

“Then what is he talking about?”

“He’s obviously talking out his ass!” Paula said. “And putting the show in a very tough position.”

I rubbed my face with both hands. Shit . We’d been deliberately in “nothing to see here” mode with the press ever since he’d left the show. In every public statement, we kept it bland and boring and simply said that it was a mutual decision to go in different directions.

No matter how sorely I’d been tempted, I hadn’t gone public to trash him for his diva fit or for abandoning the show and its fans.

As justified as that might feel, it would have hurt us more than him to reveal to the world at large that Lyle had left us scrambling with no clear plan for season two. No, we’d made the call to keep all that under wraps as we tried to figure out how to steer the ship without him.

We couldn’t completely stop the fans from speculating, of course, and worrying about what the show might look like with someone new in charge, but we’d done our best to make the transition look smooth and seamless.

And it had been working. The fans’ panic had given way almost completely to excitement and anticipation, especially after the sneak peek at GeekCon.

Now, just when it felt like things were finally back on track, Lyle had popped out of the woodwork to turn everything upside down again. What a disaster .

“God! What is he doing? Did he honestly say we begged him to come back?”

“That’s what he said,” Paula confirmed. “But after the way he acted, I wouldn’t beg him for water if I was in the fucking desert.”

We were in agreement about that. “The show doesn’t need him. We’re better off with the current writers’ room.”

But on this point, Paula didn’t immediately agree, and worry shot through me like a bullet. She had her lips pursed, her finger tapping at her chin.

“What?” I complained.

“We don’t need him,” she said. “I just want to make that abundantly clear. But?—”

“I don’t want to hear any damn buts ,” I growled.

“I know you don’t. It’s just…The fan boards have gone wild since the interview aired. It’s all anyone can talk about.”

I gritted my teeth. I could feel my molars caving to the pressure.

“The fans are ecstatic. They want him back in the room.”

Her words hit me like a load of bricks to the head. And from the way her mouth pulled into a thin line, I knew she wasn’t finished. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What else?”

“I just touched base with billing to get some basic numbers. There’s been a noticeable uptick in new subscriptions since this video aired. All the buzz has gotten a whole new audience interested enough to finally sign on and see what all the fuss is about.”

So the fans—and potential fans—were talking with their wallets too. Fuck .

“I don’t think we can slam this door in that man’s face,” Paula continued. “Despite how satisfying that would be. A move like that could?—”

“Hurt the show,” I finished for her. It could hurt the company. Put jobs at risk. Put people I cared about at risk. That wasn’t something I was willing to do, especially over a jackass like Lyle.

“I think we should take a meeting with him,” Paula said. “See if there’s some way to…”

“What?” I snapped. “Pacify him?”

She shrugged. “Keep all parties happy.”

Dammit! I hated the thought of inviting Lyle back here, letting him walk back into my studio after what he’d done. But Paula was right. This was what VeriTV needed. And that was priority, no matter how badly I wanted to send Lyle packing.

I leaned back in my chair with a sigh, raking a hand over my face.

That’s when I noticed Ash, still curled up at my feet.

“You’re not supposed to be here either, you know,” I muttered.

His tail thumped once.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But don’t get used to it.”

Two days later, Paula and I were back in my office with a studio lawyer, HR, Lyle’s agent, his own entertainment lawyer, and a PR specialist. Lyle Clemmens sat in the chair in the center of the room, surrounded by tension.

But I’d promised myself one thing before this meeting: I would hold onto my temper, and not react. Because the last thing I needed was to give Lyle fuel to run to the press with.

I could see the headlines now. Former Showrunner Ousted Again! End in Fire Goes Up In Flames. Tensions Heating Up At VeriTV.

The puns would be unbearable.

No, I couldn’t let this go sideways.

I’d even gone so far as to task an intern with watching Ash for the hour, specifically so he wouldn’t come barging in mid-meeting and piss all over Lyle’s shoes. Tempting, yes, but I couldn’t risk it.

“What are you looking for here, Lyle?” I asked. Even if we kept talking around it, we all knew why Lyle was here.

He’d been spooked by all the positive season two buzz. He’d really believed the show was going to crash and burn without him, and once he’d discovered that wasn’t the case, he’d framed the situation to make us take him back so he could get his share of the credit for the second season’s success.

His reasons were clear. What wasn’t clear was exactly what he expected to get. As Paula had said, we’d have to give him something, or we’d risk alienating the fans. But I wanted that something to be as little as possible.

“I thought that would be obvious,” he said.

I released a heated breath. “I’m gonna need you to spell it out.”

Lyle’s jaw tensed. “I want my old position back.”

“Showrunner?” I glanced at Paula. She stared at me, brow arched, waiting to see how I was going to handle that request. “Absolutely not.” I nodded in Paula’s direction. “You’re looking at our current showrunner. I have no interest in changing that.” The lawyers both scrambled to write things down.

“Paula’s done amazing work so far,” I said. “We’re not shifting leadership with half the season completed. ”

“Even if I’m the only one who can properly tell this story?”

“I think we’ve proven that’s not true. You walked out. We kept working.”

“I could have taken my ideas anywhere,” Lyle said. “Started over with another platform and stolen your audience. But I didn’t.”

There he went, threatening VeriTV. God, I wanted security to drag him out of here. “Showrunner isn’t open for discussion,” I growled.

Lyle exchanged a glance with his agent but didn’t argue that point further. Clearly, he knew he needed to give a little. So what would his next offer be?

“Then I want back in the writers’ room.”

“That we can discuss,” I said.

“Head writer.”

I shook my head. “We have a head writer.”

“Yes, Mia Collins,” Lyle said. “I’ve looked her up. She’s got that cute little webcomic, right?”

My hand curled into a fist. “Get to your point.”

“I saw the sneak peek. There are threads you’re missing. Things only I know that I have plotted out for the next three seasons. You need me to put the pieces together.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not taking the position away from Mia.”

“How about a break?” the studio lawyer suggested.

Lyle exchanged looks with his own lawyer and agent. They nodded and exited my office with HR, leaving me, Paula, and legal to crowd around my desk .

“Is this a hill you want to die on?” Paula asked me. “The head writer thing?”

“Why not?” I argued back. “I agreed to take the meeting. I’m even willing to let him back in the writers’ room. But why should he be back in charge after what he did?”

“How can we ask him to come back and not be in charge of crafting the narrative on the project that’s been his baby from the start?” Paula said. “Yeah, Mia will be disappointed if she gets bumped out of the head writer position, but the girl’s got her head on straight. She’ll understand.”

Would she? I didn’t even want to imagine the look on her face when I told her.

“Head writer feels like a solid compromise,” Paula pressed.

“It’s not,” I muttered.

Paula’s eyes narrowed. “We both know he’s not going to budge on this. If you dig in your heels, it could torpedo the whole thing. It’s not like you to take those kinds of risks when it comes to what’s best for the company.”

That rattled me. Was she right? Was I being blindly stubborn here, letting my feelings for Mia distract me from what really needed to happen? That wasn’t like me.

“We need to give a little,” Paula said. “ You need to give a little.”

Damn it. She was right. I gave a brusque nod, signaling for the lawyer to summon everyone back to the office.

“This is what we’re willing to do,” I announced.

Lyle and his team leaned forward, hanging on my every word .

“You and Mia can be co-head writers. You’ll both help shape the storylines for the rest of the season, with Paula overseeing as showrunner. If you’re really here to tell a great story, then tell the story.” That was it. The only compromise I was willing to make. Co-head or nothing.

Lyle’s lawyer whispered in his ear. He grimaced, taking a moment to think it over. “Fine,” he said at last. “But if I’m giving up so much here, I want to make some changes to the staff writers.”

“No changes,” I said. I wasn’t firing anyone just to feed into Lyle’s power trip. They hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Some additions, then.”

I glanced at Paula. She shrugged.

“I know some talented writers who could bring in a level of expertise the room is currently missing,” Lyle added.

I hated the insinuation that the current writers weren’t experienced enough, but part of me knew that was true.

Thanks to him. He was the one who’d chosen to staff the room with newbies who’d give in to anything he said.

And now, he wanted to stack the deck with a few more toadies who could be counted on to side with him in any power struggle he had with Mia.

“Who are we talking about?” I asked.

“Alex Barnett,” he said. “Ethan Moore. James Singh. Damien Alverez.”

“Two,” I said, putting a limit on it. I couldn’t have him outnumbering Mia and Paula, despite how qualified his list was. “You can bring on two other writers.”

Damien Alverez’s pitch had made it to the very early stages of development with VeriTV. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst idea to bring him on board and get a taste of how he worked with some of my creative team before fully committing.

People were on their best behavior when they were pitching. Getting him in the room would allow me to see the real him. And hopefully, the real him would turn out to be a lot less like Lyle.

“Damien and one other. Your choice.”

“Fine. Also,” Lyle said. “I want an executive story editor credit.”

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“ And I want to talk about a performance bonus if season two is as successful as the first.”

The guy was really pushing his luck. But if this was the deal that kept Lyle from making waves for End in Fire , I was willing to throw a little more money his way. I nodded to the studio lawyer. He made notes. Then I reached my hand across the table. “Do we have a deal?”

Lyle nodded. “Deal.”