She curled her fingers into fists at his ridiculous way of thinking. “Are you suggesting I turn my interview over to another editor or staff reporter?” she asked mildly, her blood boiling at the notion.
He shook his head. “I’m telling you not to do the story at all.”
She flinched at his nerve. “You don’t get to tell me how to run my magazine or what stories I can publish.”
“I’m the chairman of the company.” He smirked, and she wanted to smack the arrogant grin off his face.
“And I’m the executive editor of this magazine,” she said, her voice rising. “Every story starts and ends with my approval. Unless you want me to take this decision to the board—and tell them you’re denying me the chance to interview the billionaire tech god nobody else could get to even speak to them—I suggest you walk out that door right now.”
His cheeks turned a bright red. She had him and he knew it. “This isn’t over.”
“What do you have against Derek, other than the fact that he made something of himself?” She really wanted to know. Spencer’s feelings toward Derek made no sense, and she searched for an explanation.
“He’s beneath us,” Spencer said through gritted teeth.
The answer didn’t work for her, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting the truth out of him now.
Cassie shook her head and laughed. “If you ask me, Derek West is above us both. Good-bye, Spencer,” she said, effectively dismissing her sibling.
“Cassie—”
“This discussion is over.” She settled into her chair, picked up her pen, and glanced down at her notes, pretending to get back to work.
But the truth was, she couldn’t see past the haze of anger that vibrated through her. Anger at how rudely he’d treated Derek, both to his face and behind his back. She was frustrated that she didn’t understand his motivation for attempting to forbid her to interview Derek at all. Maybe it was jealousy, pure and simple. She’d probably never know.
Finally, the door slammed and she knew he was gone.
She breathed in deep, searching for calm, and was still looking for Zen when Derek walked back into the room.
She wasn’t sure how to face him after what her brother had said. She wouldn’t blame him if he turned ice cold again or ended things between them altogether. There was just so much someone should have to take, and Cassie wouldn’t blame Derek if he’d reached his limit.
Slowly she met his gaze, bracing herself for his reaction.
* * *
As far as Derek was concerned, Becky’s phone call came just in time. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d have been able to stand in front of Spencer Storms and not go for the other man’s throat. Derek was still on the phone with his assistant, wrapping up a problem, when the other man stormed out of Cassie’s office, brushing past Derek without a word or a glance.
A few seconds later, he walked back into her office. He hadn’t sufficiently calmed down—inside anyway—but he forced himself to remember it wasn’t her fault.
“Hey. Everything okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Becky had a few issues she needed me to address, and I need to head back right after my meeting. I’m going to have to cancel dinner.”
Disappointment flashed across her pretty face. “Oh. Okay,” she said. “I understand.”
“Thank you.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “So, I saw your brother leave.”
She nodded, her cheeks an embarrassed red. “I’m sorry about him. He’s rude and unbearable.”
“He’s an asshole,” Derek said bluntly. He didn’t see the point in beating around the bush.
He’d promised not to treat her badly because of her family. He hadn’t sworn to be nice to or about them. And Derek hated that smug bastard as much as he detested her father and what he’d done to Derek’s mother. The fact that Spencer had had no problem reminding Derek of who he was, where he’d come from, and the vast differences between himself and Cassie only reinforced his dislike for the family in general.
He’d put Derek back in the frame of mind he’d been in before he’d promised Cassie he’d do better. Only his growing feelings for Cassie herself kept him from turning on her. He had to admit, it wasn’t easy. That’s how badly the son of a bitch got to him.
He propped a hip on her desk. “I can handle him,” he assured her.
“I know. You just shouldn’t have to.”