Hayden?”
“Excuse me?” I grit out.
I can move past him being pissed, but his anger is something I won’t stand for. He has no idea. He’s overreacting.
“I told you, Hayden; I told you to leave this fucking story alone. Did nothing I said register with you? You had no business sticking your nose into this. It is not your job.”
“Well tough shit. I wanted you to see what I was capable of. I wanted to prove to you that I could do this, and I have.”
“What, by not following orders? Putting yourself in danger? For purposely doing something you knew you weren’t allowed to? Is that what you’re capable of?” he snaps, taking in a deep breath. “My God, Hayden, you could have been hurt or worse. Do you not see that?”
“No, I wanted to show you that I’m more than some advice host. I’ve done everything! Everything your father and this job has asked of me. I’ve earned this position. If your company won’t sponsor a new blog, then I’ll go rogue and do it myself. I’m sure someone else will see my potential and hire me.”
“That is not the point and we both know it. Do you not care about your safety at all?” he roars. “People have died. A reporter died looking into this story.”
“I was perfectly safe,” I scream back. “I can do this.”
“And what about Love Loop Live? Did you consider what this would do to the segment?”
“Is that all you fucking care about?” I snap, shoving away from the table and moving around the desk, my breathing laboured.
“No, and you know it isn’t.”
“No, I don’t know it. I don’t fucking care about any of it anymore. I work hours I’m not paid for to make sure it’s all taken care of, earning just a little over minimum wage, while Tim on floor one has worked here for a shorter time and already has a sports column.
“So why should it be different for me, Clayton? Why? I like this job, but I don’t love it. Your father told me every time I went to him with the proposal that he would look into it. And guess what, it never happened. I’m not even asking to do one or the other—I’m happy to do both and leave Nightingales—but no one will meet me halfway.”
My nails cut into my palms as I stand there, clenching my hands.
“I’m not my father. And he is no longer your boss. I am. And I specifically asked you not to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“That isn’t up to you,” I scream, throwing my hands up. “I made the choice. Me. I made it. You could make one too. I had hoped when you took over that modern updates would be made.”
“Now you’re telling me how to run my company?” he grits out. “I’m the boss here, not you.”
I shake my head, taking another step back. “No, because that isn’t my place, just like yours isn’t telling me what to do,” I spit out, turning to leave.
“I am not finished talking to you!”
I spin around, my eyes squeezed into thin slits. “Well I am. I’m so fucking finished.”
“You’ve still got emails to go through,” he reminds me, his voice hard.
“And I’ll do them. I just don’t have to listen to you anymore. You’ve made your point very clear.”
“Hayden—”
“No, I don’t want to hear it. I’m going for some fresh air. I’ll be back to finish my work after.”
“Hayden,” he breathes out, his shoulders sagging.
I stop with my hand on the door handle, ducking my head. I can’t face him. Not without breaking down.
Maybe he was right about relationships not working in a workplace. Because right now, it’s him I want to go to, him I want to tell about my shit day, yet he’s the reason my night was shit.
“I just need five minutes,” I explain, forcing my voice to remain calm, when inside I’m fuming.
“Don’t leave. We need to talk about this,” he pleads, his voice a mixture of anger and calm.
I pull open the door, taking a step out, but pause in the doorway, glancing over my shoulder.
“Clayton?”
“Yes?”
“Boss or not, if you ever yell at me like that again, I will knee you in the fucking balls.”
I don’t wait around for a reply, or another lecture for talking back at my ‘boss’. I’m done.
I head down the corridor towards the staff lift that goes down to the back entrance, where the staff car park is.
“Hayden?” Leana yells, startling me.
After pressing the