Working With Cupid, page 12
part #1 of Chicago Sapphics Series
She's right. Truth or not, the media will always go low, especially when women are involved. Not to mention the fact that this article just outed Anastasia's sexuality. Someone who lived her life as privately as possible to avoid something like this.
"Thanks, Mel," Izzy says, disconnecting the call as we roll to a stop in front of Cupid.
"Shit. Reporters are swarming the doors, guys," Sophie mumbles.
Exiting the SUV, my sisters circle around me and block the flashing cameras and the line of journalists. Hope burns in my chest that Anastasia hasn't given up on me yet as we push through the media mass until we reach the lobby doors.
I suck in a sharp breath, surprised that the revolving doors unlock for me after I hold my key fob to the small black panel. We shuffle into one wing and push our way into the safety of the lobby.
"Excuse you!" Britney yells from her desk.
My heartache transforms into rage at the sound of her voice, knowing she is the reason for this disaster, not me or Anastasia. Pushing through my sisters’ protective circle, I pin her with a loaded glare. "You wretched bitch!" I spit.
Pointing a finger at me, she shouts, "You're not supposed to be here!"
"I'm not supposed to be here? That's rich coming from you!" I grit. If she thinks that observation is going to stop me from getting to Anastasia, she has another thing coming. "How do you think Anastasia will feel when she learns about her bitter scorned fling sending the expose, pretending to be her personal assistant?"
Her laugh echoes through the lobby, grating against my already frayed nerves. "She won't believe you," she taunts. Smirking, she plants her hands on her hips. "And when Ana needs a shoulder to cry on as her precious empire crumbles, I'll be there for her."
"Lettie." Izzy drags my attention away from the woman before me. "Go. I had Mel send everything to your email. It's not much, but I hope it helps," she says.
"I'll call security," Britney threatens.
I roll my eyes and make a run for the elevator. She can call all she wants, but I came here for Anastasia. And Cupid help me, I hope I'm not too late.
Chapter twenty-two
Her sobs echo in my head, chipping at my calm exterior. I hate that I can't tell if her tears were genuine—proof that she is innocent or if they were a cry of regret. After last night, I thought I could trust her. Now, I have no idea what to think outside of my anger.
"Ana," Dawn whispers, gently pulling me from my inward spiral. "Are you okay?"
"I will be." Everything is a mess, and I have no clue where to start. I thought I had Nicolette figured out. She was everything I wanted from an assistant and everything I realized I needed. I fell for her hard. I saw a life with her. Fuck. I wanted it.
"Will you?" she asks.
No. I don't think I will ever be okay after this. Betrayal cuts deeper than any knife and this one managed to slice through everything I have ever wanted. My eyes sting with the only warning I get before the dam breaks. With it, my heart and every what if scenario that fractures me further. I have always lived my life how I saw fit. I never needed the public's approval for it, and I am not ashamed of my sexuality. I am, however, terrified of love and its power, the risk of losing everything I have worked for. The article wasn't wrong. My heart had thawed for Nicolette, and now I'm paying the price.
"It hurts, Dawn," I choke out. It more than hurts, it burns. My chest feels like it's on fire with every breath that I take in. "It hurts because it's true—all of it. I want to believe she didn't do this, but the facts are there. Everything we have done this week, the late nights, the passion…"
Her eyes shine with unshed tears, unshed tears for me and my pain. Sniffing, she swipes a shaky finger underneath her eyes. "But what does your heart say?"
What does my heart say?
Underneath the ache in my heart, there's a sliver of hope, but it's not enough to sway me. "It says I trusted the wrong person."
"I don't think that's true, Ana," she says, her eyes firm despite the trickle of tears that escape. "Nicolette loved being here. She was damn good at her job this week, and I saw how she looked at you—like you hung the damn moon and stars."
"What the hell else am I supposed to think, then?" I ask.
Sighing, she pushes her chair back and cradles her swollen baby bump. "I think you're lucky that you have someone who is willing to fight for you."
I swipe the sleeve of my blazer under my eyes in an attempt to clear the tears that won't stop flowing. "What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.
Before she can respond, someone yells from outside the office. "You can't go in there!"
The door flies open and reveals the cause of my distress. From the state of her dress and untamed hair, she looks far worse than myself, even with my mascara running down my cheeks. "A-Anastasia," she sobs, her chest heaving as my name leaves her mouth. "P-Please listen to me."
Clenching my jaw, I shake my head at her foolishness, her recklessness. She's lucky I haven't pursued any legal action against her. "Racking up quite the list of offenses, Miss Richter," I clip.
"Listen to me." Her words are quiet, barely a whisper, but I hear them. Even after all of this, I still can't help but be drawn to her, no matter how small she tries to make herself. "It wasn't me, Anastasia," she asserts.
"I heard you the first time, and I asked if you thought I was a stupid woman. It seems that is what you think. Security—" I jerk my head toward Nicolette, signaling for them to escort her out. I can't afford to spare her any more kindness than I already have.
"Check your email!" she cries, and God, it's a sound I never wanted to hear from her. "I swear, I never sent that story. I couldn't do that to you, Anastasia. I-I love you."
I barely register Dawn's gasp or the fact that I can no longer see in front of me, the haze of my tears clouding everything in sight, including Nicolette. My voice breaks and I no longer give a damn who hears it. "Get out of my office."
"Please—"
"I. Said. Get. Out!" I scream, my composure ruined. She ruined me with those three words. I feel them. I feel her. I'm drowning in the sea, and the sea is her. I am choking, but her name is my oxygen and I refuse to speak it.
My ears fill with the sound of scuffling and Nicolette's broken cries until the door slams closed, officially breaking my heart in half, Nicolette taking both pieces with her.
"Ana," Dawn sniffles, reminding me of her presence. "You need to look at your email."
I turn to face my friend, the haze lifting enough to see her grim expression. Dread rolls itself into a steel ball, dropping heavily in my stomach. Fuck. Clicking my laptop, I pull up the company network and log in to see several emails from reporters and other news networks asking for an interview. I choose the newest email, Nicolette's personal one, the one she used for our interview correspondence.
My heart stalls; the email contains a forward from Chicago Media Network detailing the email they received last night from someone within Cupid's network: marshallbritneyRECEP.
Oh, God. What have I done?
"I need to go," I say as I stand from the chair, stumbling over my heels as I step around Dawn's.
"Ana?"
I throw the door open and choke out, "Call security. Do not let them take Nicolette out of the building." I fucked up. I should have listened to her instead of letting my pride get in the way. Deep red, white, and gold streamers mock my broken heart as I run through the maze of cubicles. The golden 'Happy Valentine's Day' banners laugh at my misery, knowing I just ruined the first real chance at love I've ever given myself.
Whispers float among my employees and for the first time, I don't care what they say about me. I arrive at the elevator, the doors opening swiftly, giving me a shred of mercy that I know I don't deserve. The descent that once felt faster than I could have imagined now crawls when my heart is on the line. A cheery chime echoes around the cabin before the doors open, revealing a gathering of bodies close to the lobby doors—too close.
"Lettie!" a feminine voice shouts, their tone firm and commanding. "Let go of my sister, asshole!"
"I told you she wouldn't believe you." Britney laughs.
The edge of her tone drives me to place one foot in front of the other faster until I'm running. "Wait!" I yell. I don't know what I expected to see, but a group of women all resembling Nicolette with various hostile glares wasn't it. "Boys, let Miss Richter go."
Their hands leave her arms immediately, allowing who I presume are her sisters to swarm around her, effectively blocking Britney and myself from seeing her. The tallest woman with pin-straight hair, the exact color of Nicolette's, stares me down. Her ferocity makes me feel like the smallest woman alive as she says, "You must be Anastasia."
"I am." I nod, smoothing my blazer down. "I'm sorry to say that I don't know your name."
Her stare cuts deep as she extends her hand toward me. "Isabelle Richter."
I accept her handshake, attempting to match her energy, but I fall short. Her hand squeezes mine in a punishing grip, ensuring I understand who is in control. "I would say that it's nice to meet you, but I doubt that sentiment is shared."
"You'd be right." She nods, pulling her hand from mine.
"Ana," Britney shrieks. "Why are you talking to these people? They kept me from alerting you that Nicolette entered the premises."
How she says Nicolette's name lights an inferno of rage in my chest, never mind the fact that she is disrespecting Nicolette's family. "I thought I told you to shut up?" a woman with long, springy curls spits at Britney.
A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. I like this one, she's fiery. "Don't antagonize her, Sophie," Isabelle says. Shrugging a shoulder, Sophie pins my-ex assistant with one of the single most meanest glares I have ever seen from a person.
Yeah, I definitely like her.
I turn my attention to Britney, noting the smug look painted over her face. "You're fired."
Her lips part dramatically while her cheeks pinken. "Ana, let's talk—"
Raising my hand, I stop her mid-sentence. "You're fired. Effective immediately, you are no longer an employee of Cupid Multimedia."
"Y-You can't fire me, Ana," she sputters as her face reddens, the color nearly matching my red bottoms.
"I can," I seethe. The inferno in my chest is so hot that it scorches my throat. "You see, Ms. Marshall, it has come to my attention that you sent the expose, an invasion of not just my privacy, but Nicolette's, as well. If that offense wasn't enough for termination, then this one surely is. You nearly cost me the single person I have ever envisioned a future with."
She sputters in disbelief. "I-I never sent anything to anyone."
I lift my brow at her weak attempt. It's clear to me now how easy it is to see deceit compared to Nicolette's truth. "Bullshit."
"S-So what if I did it, nothing I said was a lie!" she yells.
It's true. Nothing she said was a lie, but it wasn't her truth to share. I value my privacy more than most could understand. Being at the top comes at a cost, one I have made since I built this company. I spent years being eaten alive by the media; a woman could never build her own company. They were vultures, always looking for a scandal, a reason to pull me down.
Shaking my head, I sigh. "You made a rash decision out of spite, jealousy, or whatever you felt. You wrote a story pretending to be Nicolette, who—for all you knew, wasn't out yet. Fuck, Britney. You outed me!"
"It wasn't like that," she whimpers.
"Quiet," I snap. "You realize that you put us, both of us, in danger. It was selfish and frankly, repulsive."
She lifts her lip as her eyes narrow. "I was here first. I had you first and I loved you first. What was so special about her?"
"Nicolette never pushed for more," I say slowly, the confession working its way from my lips. "She accepted me as I am and never once tried to make me feel guilty for what I wanted. She respected my boundaries, something you failed to do continuously."
"So that's it?" She laughs.
I roll my eyes. Of course, she would expect me to spill everything and bare my soul, as if I owed her something. "No, that's not it. I don't owe you anything else. Security, please confiscate Ms. Marshall's key fob and escort her from the premises."
"It's not fair!" she yells as my security team rounds her up. Removing the key fob from her pocket, they direct her to the back doors, away from the media swarm still gathered outside.
The tension between me and the group of Richter women grows thicker with each passing second after Britney's departure, until the Richter sister with the shortest hair turns to face me. "You have some nerve, Graves," she grits. Her tone drips with disdain and I can't say that I blame her. "You are lucky that Lettie cares about you. If she didn't—"
"Bear," Nicolette interrupts before whispering something into her sister's ear. My heart rattles against my ribcage as the four elder sisters part, allowing me to see the woman I desperately want to fix things with. Her eyes are glassy and bloodshot, and yet she remains to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
I flex my hands at my sides, the desire to reach out for her more potent than I can resist. Clearing my throat, I address the only person in this lobby who matters right now. "Nicolette—I am so sorry. Sorry is not a strong enough word. It's weak; I was weak."
"Y-You didn't believe me," she whispers.
"And I will spend the rest of my life living with that regret." I break, my tears burning hot down my cheeks as I bare my soul, everything I was and am, to her. "I will spend every second of every day paying for my pride. I will live in agony over the fact that I let the woman who was made for me beg for me to believe her. I don't deserve to ask anything of you, but I am selfishly asking for your forgiveness, Nicolette."
"What if—what if I can't?" she asks.
"I will wait." I cry as my legs buckle beneath me. "I will wait—patiently, on my knees in this life and the next if that's what you need to forgive me," I vow.
"Anastasia." The way she says my name is soft. Too soft. Like she's preparing to turn me away, to write me off as a loss.
I can't live with that. I need her to know everything.
A sob catches in my throat as the words tumble from my lips, my tongue catching the taste of my desperation. "I love you, Nicolette." I am desperately, devastatingly, devotedly in love with Nicolette Richter. There is no one else in this universe who could compare. Seven days was all it took for her to pierce through my heart, like Cupid's arrow, and show me a glimpse of a future where I could love freely.
We both move like a scene from a movie; time seems to slow until our bodies collide. She jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist as my arms wrap around hers. The faint scent of honey and lavender tickles my nose as she buries her face into my neck. "I forgive you," she breathes, her body relaxing, trusting that I will hold her up. "I love you, Anastasia Graves. I love you so much that it hurts, but it's a pain worth bearing if it means I have you."
"No more hurting," I whisper into her hair. "No more pain, I swear. I meant what I said, bunny. I will spend the rest of my life regretting the hurt I caused you today."
Her head lifts from my shoulder, those stunning doe eyes staring into mine, melting my heart all over again. "I know you will, Ana."
I ghost my lips over hers briefly before pressing forward tenderly. Falling into the kiss, she deepens it for us, breathing life into my lungs again. Smiling, I pull away slowly, appreciating the serene look on her face. "I think I know how to fix this with the media."
"Anastasia," she chides. "It's okay. You can tell them to kill the story if that's for the best. As long as I have you, I want you to have your peace within Cupid."
I shake my head. I will not hide her again. This is no longer a fun, casual hookup. This is love, the forever type I want—no, I need—to yell out into the world. "Can you trust me, bunny?"
"Of course." She nods.
God, I don't deserve her.
Chapter twenty-three
Anastasia's fingers intertwine with mine as the cameras flash and reporters demand their questions to be answered.
"Ms. Graves!"
"Anastasia Graves, is it true?"
"Are you going to speak on the article released today, Ms. Graves?"
My heart races with each question and my limbs tremble. I said I would trust Anastasia with this plan, but it would be a lie to say that it doesn't make me nervous. "Are you ready, bunny?" she whispers, ignoring the shouts for answers around us.
I squeeze her hand, once for luck, twice for courage, and third to tell her I love her. "I'm ready."
"Everyone!" she shouts over the media's chatter. Their murmurs dwindle away as their attention is directed to her. "Today, an article was released revealing personal details of my intimate life. It was claimed to have been written by my personal assistant, Nicolette Richter."
Cameras flash with each word she says, blinding me with their lights. A young woman pushes her way to the front of the crowd and asks, "Ms. Graves, is that the assistant in question?"
Anastasia squeezes my hand, prompting me to look at her instead of the crowd. "Yes, this is Nicolette Richter," she admits.
"So it's true. Miss Richter's expose, I mean," the reporter says.
"The words are true, yes. But, I need to make this abundantly clear. Nicolette Richter, this woman standing with me today, did not write that article." The crowd breaks into a frenzy, hurling questions and demanding answers. She offers me a soft smile, sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies to flutter in my stomach. "Please," she raises her hand, pausing the press from their rapid-fire questioning, "I understand the desire to hear who was behind the article, but I have zero intentions of speaking further on it. Instead, I would like to make an announcement."
As she turns to face me, the butterflies in my stomach flutter in a frenzy. Her stormy eyes are bright—almost like she doesn't care that the cameras are watching our every move. Instead, they hold a silent promise that she won't hide us from the public eye. Cupping my cheek in her hand, her thumb softly brushes under my eye, swiping away the dried tear stains before speaking. "I am in love with Nicolette Richter and I will spend the rest of my life with this woman, the other half of my soul."
