I clear my throat. “‘The employee shall not enter into a relationship of romantic nature with anyone associated with the production they support.’” I lift my eyes to where Mr. Boseman sits behind his desk. His face is a mirror of the one your parents always give you after you’ve gotten in trouble.I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.
Clasping his hands on top of his desk he leans forward. “You are aware that ‘anyone associated with the production’would include the athletes in this case, yes?”
“Yes, sir. I am aware,” I reply. I don’t know how it’s possible, but his disappointed frown deepens further.
He offers a curt nod. Shuffling through papers again, he pulls out the photos from last night—the whole reason we’re sitting here in the first place—but also a few other paparazzi shots I hadn’t seen before.
The first is from the coffee shop the morning after the gala when we were almost caught. It’s only me from behind with Ryan standing in front, hands planted on my shoulders, holding me in place, his eyes locked with the camera over my shoulder.
Another is a side-by-side from the gala that a tabloid must have compiled. On one side, you can see the smallest bit of hem from a red dress and a sliver of a single gold heel. It’s been enhanced from the bottom corner of a shot of Ryan exiting the limo we rode to the gala in. The other side is one of the pictures Liz had the carpet photographers get of the two of us together where you have a full shot of my dressandthe shoes I was wearing.
Fuck.
If last night’s images alone weren’t enough, these tell a pretty damning story when laid out together.
“Can you confirm it’s you in these photos?”
I sigh and squeeze my eyes closed to fend off tears. “Yes, it’s me,” I confirm, pushing to speak around the thickness in my throat.
Mr. Boseman purses his lips at my response. “Between all these photos that were brought to our attention, it seems your connection to Mr. Fletcher goes back to at least mid-July.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “When did your relationship with Mr. Fletcher begin?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “We started a friendship within my first few weeks of starting with the team. But it didn’t turn romantic in nature until June.”
He lets out a sigh and pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Right. Well, you’ve clearly broken this major clause in your contract. Unfortunately, your employment at this company will be terminated, effective immediately. Joan will walk you through the next steps.”
Joan begins speaking, but I barely process any of the words she’s saying, only nodding when it makes sense to acknowledge her. I’m entirely numb to the situation at this point. The panic spiral will come later.
Once everything has been signed and information on final paychecks and termination of benefits has been discussed, I’m dismissed. Thankfully, Mr. Boseman knows me well enough to not give me the full security perp walk out of the building. Instead, he’s opted to take on that responsibility personally. What’s left of my dignity is grateful.
It’s only once we’ve stepped out of the building that he turns to speak to me.
“I’m truly disappointed in this development.”
“I understand,” I offer, my voice weak. I have no fight in me. There’s nothing to fight for.
“You are damn good at your job. You were my favorite of all my direct reports. But don’t tell them I said that,” he tacks on with a small laugh.
I huff one out myself, but it’s forced. “I am sorry for everything. I knew better.”
“Are you happy, Isabella?” I’m taken aback by his words and his use of my first name. He never refers to me so informally, but I suppose now that I’m no longer his employee, he doesn’t need to maintain that same level of professionalism.
I tilt my head, brows furrowing in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand your question.”
“With Mr. Fletcher. Are you happy? Was this all worth it?” he asks.
I hesitate to answer. Because I don’t know what the right one is in this situation. Yes, I’m happy with him. But also…wasit worth it? Worth losing my job? Mycareer? I know I had told Ryan not long ago that he was worth the risk, but that was then. When we were still safely hidden in the dark. Now we’ve been dragged kicking and screaming into the light. Do I still think that? “I, um, I don’t know. He makes me happy. But whether or not my relationship was worth blowing up my career? That remains to be seen I suppose.”
He gives me a nod, considering. “It may not seem like it now, but I’m sure it didn’t blow up your career.” I scoff, but he continues before I have a chance to weigh in with my opinion. “Our work can’t be our entire lives, Isabella. Trust me, I’ve been doing this long enough to know. I seem to remember a few years back you sacrificed a relationship in favor of your job. Maybe it’s time to see about doing the reverse for a change, hm?” With that, he holds out his hand. I slot mine into his and shake it. “It was truly a pleasure to work with you, Isabella. I’m sorry we have to part under such circumstances.”
“Same goes for you, Mr. Boseman.”
“Please, call me Peter,” he says with a smile as he releases my hand and heads back into the building.
I close my eyes and release a sigh. Letting myself take a minute to recenter before I re-open them and dig in my bag for my phone to call for a lift.
“Firecracker!”
My head whips up to see Ryan leaning up against the driver’s side of his car in the same spot where I left him when he dropped me off. Seeing him brings up two different reactions in me. The first is overwhelming happiness that he disregarded what I said and stuck around to wait for me anyway. The second, is sadness and irritation because I’ve just been fired and all I want is to crawl into bed and cry about it. I don’t need him to see me breakdown. Especially with how much he’s already seen me like this. And the fact that our relationship is what got us into this mess in the first place.