wave him off. “What were you saying?” I ask, ignoring his question. I might not enjoy my job as much as I would doing something else, but I still need it. It pays for my mortgage on the two-bed I recently bought off my uncle.
He looks to the other women in the room, an exasperated sigh escaping him. “Is this really Hayden Carter?”
I grit my teeth. I don’t like being spoken about like I’m not even in the room. Chrissy must feel my anger because she runs a shaky hand down her outfit, glancing at me briefly before turning back to him. “Yes, sir.”
“And do you wear that to work every day?” he asks, disdain colouring his tone as he critically scans over my attire.
I look down, wondering what he means. The rips might be a little indecent. I have one just below my arse, and at the right angle, you can see the soft globe of my butt. I thought it looked hot.
Maybe he’s gay.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I ask, feeling a small loss of confidence, which is rare for me.
His eyebrows scrunch together as he looks at me like I’m stupid. “It isn’t very business-like. You work at a radio station, not in a bar. We have an image to uphold. And it’s not appropriate. You are here to work, not flash your body.”
Gritting my teeth, I stop myself from yelling at the guy about women’s rights. It’s my body and I can wear what I like.
Instead, I force a sweet smile, clasping my hands together so I don’t reach out and punch him. “Have our contracts changed since we signed them?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s okay,” I tell him snidely, yet keep my voice sweet. “You’re new. But if you like, I can bring in my copy of my contract, which doesn’t state what the dress code is. If I worked front of house or in an office, I’d probably wear what Chrissy is wearing. But, I do not. Therefore, I choose to wear whatever I’d like to wear.”
“We’ll discuss this later. Things will be changing around here.”
“I bet,” I mutter under my breath.
“Pardon?”
I give him a wide smile, flashing my teeth. “I said, I’m glad.”
He forces a smile, the frown lines giving away the fact I’m annoying him. “I’m changing your segment.”
I grin, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
And that… that is music to my ears.
He might have ruined his perfect exterior by being a pig, but hearing those words makes me want to kiss him.
I pump my fist into the air, giving a loud cheer. “Yes! I’ve been waiting for this day. I have some ideas of my own. I was hoping we could report on real life stories. We could still stream with the same name, so we wouldn’t need extra marketing. I was hoping to report on the signs of domestic abuse, on how to get help. Or we could do the dangers of online dating,” I ramble, completely blowing off the way his teeth grit together. “And then have a ten-minute news report at the end. We could even add it in to the Late-Night magazine.”
“I’m sorry, but did my father leave his company to you or to me?”
“Excuse you?” I reply, clenching my hands into fists.
“No, excuse you,” he bites out. “I’ve been in here all of ten minutes and have been objectified by you ogling me, spoken rudely to, caught my staff talking when they should be preparing to go on air, and now I’ve been told how to do my job. Who gave you the right?”
“You need to pull the broom out your arse,” I snap, ignoring Chrissy and Leana’s gasps. He may as well learn now that there’s only so much I can take when it comes to being spoken down to. “I gave an idea, one I think the station could benefit from. If you had been here longer than a day, you would know we have calls, emails, and messages swarming through with women asking for help over ex-partners, partners, or over a friend who’s dealing with abuse. We can’t talk on the matter, even though I’ve taken a basic counselling course. We have a platform that is listened to by thousands and we use it to give advice on what any one of them could get from a friend or their mum.” I take a deep breath, trying not to knee him in the balls. “And you might have it going on in the looks department,