we were in Connecticut and fall into his touch once again.
My mouth is pursed, ready for more of his kiss, but he pulls away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says as he steps back and rounds the car to the driver’s side.
“Bye.” I wave as I head into my place, rubbing my head, still unsure of what we are.
The only negative about working for a media company is that television doesn’t take a holiday, so neither do we. Three days after Christmas, I’m back in the saddle, working on my daily report.
“Morning, Katherine.” Branson enters the office, wearing a herringbone suit and his dazzling smile. He even has on a silk tie and matching handkerchief, the one he usually reserves for special occasions.
“You’re looking extra dapper today,” I respond, handing him a printout of his schedule for the day.
He pauses by my desk and takes a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d say so. I woke up this morning and felt like putting on a little something special today.” He motions toward his office. “Join me for a second.”
I stand, and he ushers me to walk in front of him.
I wait by his desk and watch as he hangs up his coat before taking his seat in his large leather chair. I have my notepad in hand, ready to get to work on whatever he has for me today.
“Put that down for a bit. I want to ask you something.” He motions toward the guest chair. “Have a seat.”
I do so and place the pad on my lap. “Okay, shoot.”
“The event I’m going to on New Year’s Eve, the one you graciously emailed me the details of last night, I was thinking it over, and I have a splendid idea. I’d like for you to join me.”
My heart skips a beat. A formal gala at the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center with the glistening lights of the city below and the magic of New York City during the holidays while drinking champagne—it’s quite possibly the best way I can imagine spending New Year’s Eve.
“Join you? This isn’t a work event. Well, okay, it kind of is, as it’s hosted by the American Media Council, but it’s not something you need an assistant for.”
He leans his elbows on the desk and steeples his hands. “I want you to come as my plus-one.”
“I’m sorry. You want me to—”
“Come, so I can introduce you to the who’s who of the media world,” he says in a booming voice, his arms raised out, as if this is the invitation to end all invitations. “I think it’s time we start working on your next step here with Empire Media. This will be the perfect event to do so. You can’t be my assistant forever. It’s time you start getting ready to take a role in market strategy. There will be many people there you’ll only benefit from knowing as you assume your new position with this company.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I try to hide my smile. “You really think I’m ready?”
“You have that presentation coming up. After which, I’d be a fool to keep you strapped to your desk. Not when every producer in the building will be eyeing you to come work for their show. I’m a smart man and a greedy one. I want you to move up, and that all starts with the New Year’s Eve soiree. What do you say?”
My eyes widen as I take in this enormous opportunity. People at my level of the industry are never invited. Shoot, even Hunter wasn’t invited.
“Oh, um, well, yes. Of course I’ll be there.” I smile brightly, excited for the chance.
“Wonderful.” He sits up and reaches for his wallet in his coat pocket. “I want to treat you to more than the spa day I already got you for your holiday bonus. I have my card on file at Saks Fifth Avenue. Give Jasmine a call; she’s expecting you. Pick out a dress for the evening; it’s black tie, as you know.” He grins playfully because I have black tie written in all caps at three different locations on his calendar, so he doesn’t miss it.
I hold up my hand in protest at his offer. “No, Branson, I can’t let you pay for my dress. I have something I can wear.” It’s actually a lie. I have absolutely nothing to wear, and I spent my last paycheck on an overpriced green dress.
“Please.” He hands me Jasmine’s business card again. “I insist.