In all of my encounters with Brent he’d seemed quite outgoing and not opposed to being the center of attention. Or maybe that was just when Alastair was around and he felt the urge to needle him whenever possible.
“You’re exactly his type, you know,” she continued. “He’s only thirty-two and you’re what, twenty-seven? He’ll probably ask you out.”
“I’m actually in a serious relationship,” I said, twisting my ring.
“I’m sorry. That’s right. You’re engaged to Alastair Holden.” Her blush deepened. “I shouldn’t be talking about this at work anyway.”
* * *
‘Hurry up and wait’ should be painted in large letters on walls in every single newsroom and television studio in the world. Sure, the hectic times were insane but for the most part, we waited. We still had about an hour and a half before going live so I decided to see what Julian was up to. He was relaxing and reading through scripts when I popped into his office for a brief meeting.
“You are becoming the toast of the town,” he announced, swiveling his monitor so I could see the photos of me from the coffee shop that had been posted online. One caption in particular made me cringe: HOLDEN’S AMERICAN ARM CANDY WINS THE DIAMOND
“Everyone wants to know about you. These idiots don’t know how to handle a story of this magnitude. I say we do an exclusive with you next week—d”
“Stop right there,” I interrupted. “Hell will freeze over before I say one word to the media about my relationship. It’s not for sale and it’s not a story. People will get bored with me soon enough when they realize—”
“They will never tire of Alastair Holden. Don’t you understand? He’s the golden child of a billion dollar media empire who also happens to have one of the most tragic back stories I’ve ever heard. People are fascinated by him. They can’t get enough of him because he’s so goddam private. You’re their window into his life. Just think of the—s”
I stormed out before he could finish. What an ass. I expected photographers to jump out at me and strangers to stare but not my own co-workers. Fuming, I locked myself in my office. A silver piece of paper caught my attention. The invitation.
Grabbing it, I glared at Olivia’s name. To think I had to fake pleasantries with her brother in a little while gave me a headache. I could handle it though. I’d been in worse situations.
After my mood cooled off, I spent the final thirty minutes before the show went on the air in the control room. It was the heart and soul of any working station. Monitors covered an entire wall, all of them glowing with moving images. A massive board of lights and levers blinked, waiting for the technical director to give them a press or a pull. Of course, a giant digital clock ominously ticked the minutes away as a reminder for me and everyone else to remain on time. I found my seat, said my hellos and plugged in my headset to listen to the pre-show chatter between the director and his crew.
Once the opening music sounded and the final countdown given, I was in full-on producer mode. Robbie sat to my left, diligently working.
During a pre-packaged piece toward our final segment, I noticed the floor director motion for someone to walk on set. I watched curiously as Brent moved into view. I hadn’t seen him since our unexpected meeting at dinner in New York. Tall, broad shouldered and, yes, handsome, he made his way to the chair. Piercing, hazel eyes darted around the set as he waited to get mic’d up. Wavy chocolate brown hair framed his angular face. There was no hard edge to him, no hidden agenda, just a powerful energy that radiated off him.
“Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Garrison. I appreciate it,” Julian greeted him with a smile.
“My pleasure. I hope I can enlighten your audience.”
Hearing his rich Scottish accent come through my headset caught me off guard. I’d only ever talked to him at a normal, human distance. This seemed a little too intimate for a guy who despised my fiancé. Shaking off the weird feeling, I glanced at the clock. The show was coming back live in one minute and I needed to focus.
“Okay, Julian. We’re coming up on you cold in sixty. You have three minutes, then toss to the package.”
“Thanks, Lia. Oh, be sure either you or Robbie get in my ear when we’re thirty away. I don’t want our guest to be cut off mid thought.”
“Will do.”
Robbie nodded in my direction to signal he’d take care of the timing.
“That was Steve Berman reporting. We’re pleased to be joined now by Brent Garrison, owner and CEO at Summit Enterprises. Good evening, Mr. Garrison. Thanks for being here.”
“Mr. Archer.” He nodded politely.
The two men chatted about the changing climate in the real estate industry and how it was affecting jobs in the city.
“Have any of your properties suffered due to the sluggish economy?”
“Not at all,” Brent answered. “Fortunately, people still enjoy going out on occasion even though they’ve tightened their belts, so to speak. I look forward to opening a few more establishments in the coming year. New businesses mean more jobs.”
I sort of zoned out a little during their interview. Finances, business plans and all that weren’t my cup of tea. When Julian tossed to the package on job growth in Glasgow and throughout Scotland I made a mental note that we’d be off the air in less than ten minutes.
“Lia,” Julian’s voice floated through my headset.
“Yes?”
“How much longer is this?”
“One-thirty.”
“How does it look from in there?”
“Fantastic. You’re doing a great job. Although…”
“What? Although what?”
“Your tie is crooked.”
“Bloody hell,” he grumbled. “Jim, punch me up on two.”
Julian preened and fixed his tie while staring into the monitor mounted beneath camera two. Robbie cued him at ten seconds for the remainder of his interview.
“You founded Summit at such a young age and broke out onto the business scene rather quickly. To what do you credit your success?”
“Success is subjective. I look at where am I now and think there’s always room for improvement. But I do credit the success I’ve had so far to my dedicated team at Summit and to the support of my family.”
“You’re constantly listed with other notable young businessmen in Great Britain, including Alastair Holden. Obviously your background is quite different from his but do you see his success as something you’d like to emulate?”
I sat immobile, clutching a pen. That question wasn’t listed on our sheet of talking points. Sneaky bastard.
Brent smiled slightly. “As you said, our backgrounds are quite different. I wasn’t born into an established, worldwide conglomerate but I can certainly appreciate how he’s contributed to the ever-changing atmosphere of the media industry.”
“Tragic childhood aside, he’s had it pretty easy when it comes to his career. Do you see your success as more satisfying because you weren’t handed a company like he was?”
It took every ounce of my strength not to leap out of the chair and run into the studio. Livid was too weak of a word to describe what I was. This is what he wanted the extra time for? Ass.
“Now Julian, we all work hard at what we do,” Brent answered smoothly. “Nobody’s success is more satisfying than another’s. Alastair Holden is a smart and savvy businessman. Being handed a company or building one from the ground