Her Dirty Builders (Men at Work #10) - Mika Lane Page 0,34

course he just said that.

He was the champion of finding a sore spot and twisting a knife in it. If they gave rewards for thoughtless cruelty, he’d surely win.

“First, Ty is not my boyfriend. And second, even if he were, it’s none of your business.”

Probably wasn’t smart to be such a bitch to him, but he needed to back the fuck off.

He sat one of his butt cheeks on the corner of my desk. “Oh c’mon, Esme. Lighten up. We’re one big happy family here. You know that.”

Now that he was so close, I could smell whatever crap it was he put in his hair.

He opened his hands. “I figured he was your new guy and that’s why you shut me down.”

Was he so clueless he completely missed my disdain for him? What a way to go through life. Must be nice to be so immune to reality.

“Ty is working on my house. He’s an expert woodworker. In fact, a chair he designed just won an award.”

Adam was unimpressed. “That’s nice,” he said dismissively. “I can’t believe you didn’t know who he was. His family is richer than god. And he’s much better looking than that guy who stood you up at the altar.”

“Adam, I have some work I need to get done, not to mention trying to resurrect that staff retreat—”

He put a hand on my arm. “Look, Esme, I am here to talk to you about work. Take a chill pill.”

Chill pill? Did people still say that? Besides, everyone knew that telling someone to ‘take a chill pill’ always had the opposite effect.

How long would I go to prison if I stabbed Adam with my just-sharpened pencil?

“Okay. What’s up?” I asked as sweetly as I could.

“I have an idea for an assignment for you.”

Okay. Now we’re talking.

“That’s great. I hope it doesn’t have to do with planning another event,” I said, joking-not-joking.

“No, don’t be silly. I want you to do a story.”

He had me by the balls—so to speak. He knew I was always looking to prove my journalistic chops and that I was forever gunning for more and better story assignments.

“Okay. What’s it about? What’s the angle?”

I tried to tone down the excitement in my voice. Not sure it worked.

He tapped his chin like he’d just had the idea of a lifetime. I braced myself.

“Why don’t you… do a story on Ty Wells?” he said in a perky voice.

My short-lived excitement oozed away like the last bit of air in a leaky balloon.

“Um, Ty? As in my friend Ty?” I stumbled.

I so wanted him to tell me I’d misheard him. I really, really wanted to believe there was something redeeming about my boss, that he was not completely unprincipled, and that he’d never throw me into the sort of conflict of interest that could end a journalist’s career.

Right.

He smiled like he’d won the lottery. “Yeah. Ty Wells.”

My mouth flapped open and closed a few times while I found my words. “Um, Adam, I’m not sure I’m comfortable—”

He waved his hand like he was shooing a fly. “Nonsense. Good journalism isn’t about being comfortable. Back when I was at the New York Times…”

While he droned on about his entry level job at the Times like he’d been the freaking editor-in-chief there, all the reasons it would be wrong for me to do a story on Ty scrolled through my mind like they were on repeat.

And they all ended with no fucking way.

I was on my way to the local steak place to meet the guys for dinner while Adam’s request haunted me. I’d had such a busy day between planning our stupid work retreat and getting ready for my women’s conference interviews that I’d not had time to ruminate on his audacious proposal.

Now that I did, I was getting pissed.

Had there ever been anyone so fucking clueless?

And as if his request hadn’t been bad enough, when I started to push back, he’d doubled down.

He got closer to my ear like he was sharing a secret. “Look, Esme. I know sometimes you’re kind of uncertain about your writing.”

What?

“So I’m here to help you,” he continued.

“Um, Adam, I don’t think that will be necessary, since I’m not doing the story.”

He chuckled. “Now Esme, I know you want to excel here at the paper, and opportunities like this only come around once in a while. What I want you to really focus on is finding out more about his sister’s death.”

“What?” I snapped.

Matt gave me his usual warning look, which I