And she was why I stood here now, in front of my new co-manager. My new, disarmingly handsome co-manager—and the glue that held together the team I was about to join. A commanding, charming man who’d needed to believe I was also a man just to accept the idea of me. And a man who’d seen me cry.
Sebastian Quinn.
I hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremble of my hands. He’d already witnessed perhaps the one thing a businesswoman couldn’t come back from—showing emotion. How the hell did I expect him to take me seriously if he thought I might burst into tears at any moment?
From my hurried research on Modern Man, I’d red-flagged the magazine’s creative director as one of the staff’s biggest liabilities. I hadn’t realized that man was Sebastian. And now it occurred to me why he’d looked so familiar at the café—I’d seen his image on the Modern Man website, had glanced over it in the exposé while in deep research mode, and had spotted him in social sections of magazines that’d covered Modern Man’s events but had assumed he was an editorial model.
I quickly filtered through what I’d learned in the short amount of time I’d had to look into him: owner of a high-end Fifth Avenue apartment, involved in an accident that ended with a totaled foreign sports car, considered a “bad boy” of publishing for the unapologetically masculine magazine he’d built, and a notorious playboy who couldn’t be tied down and had left heartbroken actresses, socialites, and models in his wake.
Unfortunately, as I’d already proven, I belonged to the part of the female population that went wobbly-legged and tongue-tied around men like him. George didn’t, though. As long as I could stay in character and see Sebastian for what he was—a colleague—I could do this. I had to, because I was a professional, and work came first.
“Let’s introduce you to the rest of the staff,” Vance said, interrupting the uncomfortable silence that had permeated Sebastian’s corner office. “Come with me, Miss Keller.”
Vance led us down a long hallway, past some conference rooms. From behind, Sebastian lowered his voice and said, “Is that a tank top?”
“At least it’s dry.” I tugged up the neckline. At a souvenir shop between the café and office, I’d swapped my crisp button-down for a ribbed Yankees jersey that’d only been available in extra-small.
“I’m not saying I don’t like it,” he continued. “But it’s a good thing you weren’t wearing it when I met you. I might’ve forgotten all about my morning meeting.”
The back of my neck warmed. If there’d been any question that he’d been flirting earlier, here was my proof. He walked close behind me to keep our conversation private, and it reminded me of how he’d kneeled at my feet before we’d ever even made eye contact. Neal would’ve said my tank was too revealing for the office. Toward the end of our relationship, only an arched eyebrow over his coffee mug would’ve been enough to send me back into our bedroom to change.
My ex was the last person I needed to be thinking about in that moment, yet less than an hour in Sebastian’s presence and I was second-guessing my outfit. And myself. I had to be careful. Dionne had sent me here for a reason. Modern Man needed a female touch. My past assignments had mainly consisted of publications for women by women, and Sebastian’s staff had gone unchecked too long.
I had to play the game their way. If I came off as too assertive, I’d become the enemy and find myself ostracized from the group. In order for this to work, I had to truly be in the circle of trust, not at the fringes, and definitely not outside of it.
I couldn’t let Sebastian undermine me. I dug into my purse, unzipped a side pouch, and pulled out an emergency mini bottle of Aleve. Turning my head over my shoulder, I tossed it back, and Sebastian caught it with a look of surprise. “For the PMS,” I said with a wink to make absolute sure he knew I’d heard their earlier conversation.
I took the next moment for myself, though I could’ve used a whole weekend with Halo Top and The New Yorker to agonize over my morning—oh, who was I kidding? I wallowed by eating Häagen Dazs Mocha Chocolate Cookie straight from the carton while binge-watching every available episode of HGTV set in Dublin or any movie featuring Saoirse Ronan.
Vance had promised me full rein over Modern Man, but I could see now that there’d be no such opportunity while Sebastian was there. Even if the way we’d met couldn’t have gone worse, I had to get it together. I hadn’t come this far in my career by backing down when intimidated.
I double-checked that my blazer was buttoned, fixed my neckline again, and entered the conference room. Barely legible chicken scratch covered the whiteboard at the head of the room. Miniature football goal posts sat at opposite ends of the conference table, and in the middle, a battalion of G.I. Joe action figures held up a Dunkin’ Donuts box. I followed a trail of rainbow sprinkles leading to the other man I’d seen but hadn’t met in Sebastian’s office. With unruly blond hair that perfectly offset his blue eyes, he smiled a mouthful of donut. Ah, the class clown. And a potential in if I played my cards right.
I set up my laptop at the head of the table and fiddled with the projector.
“Derek from IT should be here any minute,” Vance said as more people filed in.
“I’ve got it.” Imagine that—I’d done this probably thirty times before, and all without the help of a boy.
As I stood and surveyed the room, Sebastian entered, the last to arrive, as if he’d been loitering outside. A young man gave up his seat to Sebastian, joining a group gathered at the back. Sebastian was important around here, but was he more than a boss to these guys?
“Morning, everyone,” Vance said, and the room quieted. “Please give a warm welcome to George Keller, who’ll be joining our team as a publishing consultant and PR specialist for the next eight weeks.”
I laced my fingers in front of myself and smiled, ignoring the rumble of whispers through the crowd.
“George comes to us with many successful years in media consulting and PR crises,” Vance continued. “Remember how the features editor of Moms and Babes spent a month in rehab for opioids?”
The men mumbled. “I never heard that,” one said.
“Exactly,” Vance said, rocking on his heels and smiling as if he’d pulled off the feat of hiding her overdose from the press himself.
“I stopped the story before it leaked,” I said, “then, with the help of her staff, we put out one of the magazine’s best-selling issues to this day.” I scratched under my nose. “Although, I did sign an NDA about the opioid thing, so if we could keep that in the room . . .”
Everyone laughed. Well, almost everyone. Sebastian just tapped his pen on his notepad.
“George has helped turn around several media-based companies, which resulted in over a million dollars cumulatively earned.”
I nodded at Vance as he took the seat next to me. “Thank you for that generous introduction, but you’re giving me too much credit. The real magic happens because of the team.”
A mustached man to my left put up his hand. “What exactly is a publishing consultant and . . .”
“PR specialist,” I finished.
“As you all know, Modern Man has experienced a few down quarters and more recently, it’s been in hot water with the press.” Vance spoke cautiously about what I could only assume was a sore subject. “George is here to get us out of it.”
“How?” the man asked.
“Good question,” I said. “You are?”
“Boris,” he supplied.
“First, we’re going to tackle the PR side of things, Boris. MM’s brand, messaging, and image needs work, and this is the perfect time to fine-tune it considering the magazine is under attack.”
Someone from Sebastian’s section of the conference table muttered under his breath, but I did my best to ignore it.
“Once I perform a little emergency PR magic,” I continued, “then comes the part I love most about my job—getting to the bottom of why things have stalled when you should be thriving. I’ll sit down with each of you to see how you feel the publication is doing and what improvements can be made. Entirely confidential, of course. We’ll collaborate to refine Modern Man’s image and identify and remove the reasons we’re losing our readership. But change begins with all of you.”