“Yes, Mr. Locke.” She nodded and left.
It didn’t take long for her to reappear with our new contract, and we both signed.
Except Autumn didn’t realize she’d just signed…
Her future with me.
Chapter SEVEN
—Autumn—
We walked into the building where The New York Times interview was being held.
Julian strode in like he owned the damn place, each stride more commanding than the last. With the confidence he exuded from head to toe, no one would assume this was his first official interview.
The man had a way about him. He never wore his emotions on his sleeve, and I wish I could tell you this was something he’d developed after he’d left me, but it wasn’t.
He always had the ability to hold everything in. No one saw what he didn’t want them to see, and the only times I ever did were the moments he’d let me in.
When I was a little girl, I thought I had the power to read him through his bright, blue eyes. But as I got older, he realized what I could see in his gaze, and that was when he stopped showing me his emotions. Somewhere along the way he deemed me unworthy to know what he was feeling, and it not only crushed my heart, but it destroyed my soul.
Keeping up with his stride, I matched his calm demeanor, fully aware of what we were about to encounter. I was beyond thankful I’d once dated the columnist who was conducting Julian’s interview. I met him in graduate school. At the time, he was just starting at a lucrative magazine.
Now, he was what dreams were made of, being able to make or break anyone’s career with the influence he held as the top journalist in the industry.
“You ready?” I questioned, holding onto the door.
“I’m always ready.” He walked inside, and to his back, I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, kid.”
What the hell? How does he keep doing that?
“Cherry!” Charles greeted, bringing my attention over to him.
The last time I’d seen him was a little over a year ago. He’d interviewed one of my other clients.
“Charlie.” I smiled, walking into his arms. “How are you?”
“I’m better now that I’m seeing your gorgeous face.”
I giggled. “Always such a charmer.”
“When are you going to let me take you out to dinner? I owe you a baseball game.”
“You do. Maybe next time I’m in town.”
My eyes connected with Julian who was standing behind me, staring at us like he recognized we’d once dated.
“This is Julian Locke. Julian, this is Charles Gordan.”
“Do I get to call him Charlie too?”
I nervously chuckled. “That’s just an old nickname I have for him.”
“Cherry?”
“Another old nickname.”
“I see.”
“Nice to meet you, Julian.” Charles extended his hand and Julian shook it.
“It’s Mr. Locke, Charlie.”
Jesus, we just got here, and he’s already being an abrasive asshole.
I intervened, “Why don’t you go get everything ready for Mr. Locke, and we’ll be right over.”
Charles nodded, feeling the sudden tension in the room.
Once he was gone, I turned to Julian. “Can you not be a snarky dick to the journalist who’s about to run one of the most important interviews of your career?”
He tugged on the end of my hair. “He better be referring to the color of this, Cherry.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He totally is. I’m fully lasered. Brazilian to be exact.”
Julian groaned, making me smile big and wide.
“Did he fuck you?”
“Uh, hello, none of your business.”
“When was the last time he fucked you?”
“Again, none of your damn business. Now get your head in the game, Locke. You need to be nice.”
“I’m not nice.”
“I’m fully aware, but you need to try.”
Charles announced, “I’m ready when you are.”
We made our way over to him.
Julian, of course, sat at the head of the table, while I sat behind him, and Charlie was sitting in front of both of us with a recorder and notepad in his hands.
During the interview, I lost count of how many times I had to tell Charlie he couldn’t use that.
“Tell me about your childhood, Mr. Locke.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
I kicked him under the table. “What he’s trying to say is he doesn’t know where to start.”
“Would you like to do the interview for me, kid? Considering you haven’t allowed me to answer one question.”
“Kid?” Charlie chimed in. “What’s that about?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Oh, so that’s nothing?” Julian mocked. Using my own words against me, he added, “What she’s trying to say is that Cherry and I go way back.”
“Now this just got good. How far back?”
“The interview is about Julian, Charles. Not Julian and me.”
“Julian? Are you usually on a first-name basis with your clients, Cherry? I don’t think so. Besides, this is what people want to know. Trust me.” He peered back at Locke. “You were saying?”
“I used to be her Prince Charming.”
“This is not—”
Julian interrupted me, “I can handle it from here, Miss Troy. I’m sure your other clients need tending to.”
“Lucky for you, I cleared my entire schedule this week, just for you.”
“Now this is getting really good. She never clears her schedule for only one client.”
“Charles!”
Locke grinned. “Is that right?”
I was about to explain myself, but my phone rang. “This is Autumn.”
Laurel was on the other line, and I had to excuse myself from the table. By the time I was done with our conversation, Julian was walking out of the interview into the lobby where I was talking to my boss with the same confident stride he had going in.
“Should I ask how that went? Or should I assume?”
“You know what they say about people who assume, kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
I didn’t give it too much thought. Charlie and I had an arrangement—nothing was published without my approval first. I’d go over his article once he emailed it to me. For the rest of the day, we went from one thing to the next until it was way past dinnertime, and I was starving. I wanted to try the restaurant at my hotel, well Julian’s hotel.
He held the door open for me.
“Today started a little rough—”
“You used to love it rough.”
“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, stepping into the restaurant. “You cannot say stuff like that to me anymore.”
“Try to stop me, sweetheart.”
“Damn. I should have added a clause about your inappropriate behavior.”
“It wouldn’t have done you any good. I wouldn’t have signed it.”
“On that note…” I stopped at the bar, nodding to the bartender. “I’ll take a martini with four stuffed olives, please.”