50 Shades of Drake 5 and 6

Chapter Sixty-Nine

    "Oh my God...it's Mr. Graham."

    Aubrey smoothed down his tie as he strode down the halls of the Los Angeles branch of Graham Enterprises. He tilted his head in acknowledgement to those who greeted him, exchanged brief words with executives he'd only seen in video conferences for the past several months.

    The day was filled with scheduled meetings, from top to bottom. No time for resting, not on his first full day back to the Los Angeles office. Graham Enterprises staff were dressed to the nine, in anticipation of his arrival. He made it a priority to walk through each office on each floor before getting the chance to set his briefcase down in his own office. He didn't bother sitting down; by the time he reached his office, he had less than five minutes until his first scheduled meeting. Instead of sitting, he walked over to the window behind his desk and stared out of it.

    He'd been away from Destiny for a mere two hours, and it felt like he'd been apart from her an entire day. Was that normal? It wasn't a feeling he was used to, not something he'd ever experienced in a previous relationship. Could he have underestimated just how tough it would be away from her for more than eight hours a day? Had he grown that accustomed to working in the same building as she did?

    Back in Toronto, even when she was dating another man, he looked forward to seeing her each day. There were almost moments that he got to steal away with her. If he got to a point when his desire for her reached maximum levels, he knew he could hop on the elevator and put in a surprise visit to her office. That wouldn't be so easy with their current setup.

    With a sigh, he turned his back to the window and surveyed his office. It was decorated similar to his office in Toronto, and that had been deliberate. The similar decor was meant to give him some semblance of home here in Los Angeles. Photos of his family were positioned all over the office.

    There were major benefits to living in Los Angeles, especially with the industry that he was in. He was close to local events, there were other entertainment companies that were at his disposal whenever needed. Other celebrities and stars were nearby, if he needed them. Talent was in abundance and more waiting to be discovered. The weather was always a plus, especially in comparison to Toronto. In Toronto, the summers ran hot, sometimes excruciatingly so, and the winters ran freezing cold. Los Angeles was a lot more steady in the weather department. Even with all of those benefits considered though, it still didn't feel quite like home. At times, it was devoid of realness, of personality and character. So many people in L.A. were so focused on getting discovered that it tended to be the motive for all of their interactions. There were no limits to what some were willing to do to get discovered. Stop in a restaurant to enjoy a decent meal, and a waiter might drop you a demo CD. "I'm just out here trying to make it," the waiter would say, at the risk of losing a tip he would've otherwise earned. That type of desperation made it tough to forge true, genuine friendships and Aubrey was a man who thrived on authenticity. As beautiful as Los Angeles was, there were most definitely characteristics that it was missing.

    Speaking of missing, I wonder how Destiny's day is going so far, he thought, backing away from the window and preparing to head to his first meeting of the day.

~~~~~~

    "Your references from Howard University are impressive, and your ability to get Aubrey Drake Graham to conduct an interview was nothing short of amazing," the chief editor said, sliding a pair of tortoise shell-framed glasses up his nose. "I can't express to you how excited we are to have you join our team."

    Destiny beamed, clasping her hands together in her lap to keep from gesturing around wildly. "I can't express to you how excited I am to be a part of the team. I already have some ideas for articles that I would like to try running past you. My strength is in culture pieces, but I understand that there are certain needs for a publication. I'm, of course, willing to be flexible."

    The editor, a tall, lean man with short dark hair leaned back in his chair. He looked to be middle-aged. A simple wedding band was wrapped around his ring finger. His brow creased. "Oh?"

    She nodded. "I know that some writers or journalists are unwilling to consider different avenues, but I'm easy to work with."

    "That's good to hear."

    "It's been so long since we've discussed the offer, that I don't remember which column you wanted me to write for the Times," she admitted.

    His brows arched and raised an elbow to the armrest of his chair. "I do apologize, but there must be a misunderstanding."

    "Misunderstanding?" she repeated.

    "We are bringing you on in more of an assistant role," he explained. "Fetching coffee. Making copies. Helping some of the staff journalists with research in the event they need it."

    Her heart shattered. "But...you commended my ability to get an interview with Aubrey Graham."

    "Because that was quite the feat. There are established journalists who weren't able to. Although..." His eyes lowered. "I can see why he ultimately complied with your request."

    She shot out of her chair.

    His eyes rose back to her face. "Don't get me wrong. Prove your worth as an assistant, and it's quite possible that you would get promoted. But we simply don't have the need or budget for another journalist at this time."

    "So you want me to work as practically an intern, even though I've already graduated?"

    "I want you to earn any promotion that you are given," he responded.

~~~~~~

    Hot tears dropping into stirred spaghetti sauce. Disappointment mingling with frustration and anger. Was she willing to set her pride aside and work as an assistant, instead of doing what she actually loved to do? Destiny raised a wooden spoon to her lips and tasted the sauce, then shook her head and turned to the spices that were in disarray on the kitchen counter.

    Footsteps sounded nearby, and she wiped at the tears on her cheeks. For all she knew, Aubrey's day could've been worse than hers. The last thing she needed was to stress him out with her own worries.

    He entered the kitchen and hesitated in the entryway before making his way over to her. "You're cooking for us?"

    She shrugged. "It felt like the right thing to do."

    "It was the right thing to do." He was silent for a moment. Then he raised his hand, placed it beneath her chin, and tilted her face up. After searching her eyes for mere seconds, he asked, "What's wrong?"

    She started to shake her head.

    He lifted an eyebrow at her. "I asked you what was wrong."

    Her face crumbled. "The position at the Times wasn't as one of their journalists. It was as an assistant."

    His expression relaxed and turned to one of sympathy.

    She turned and buried her face in his chest.

    His arms went around her. "I'll make one phone call that will set them straight-"

    "Don't," she said, looking up at him. "Please don't. That would just make it worse."

    "It would give you the job you want."

    "I don't want you to cuss someone out just so I have the job that I want," she told him. "I want...I want someone to give me the job that I want because they see something in me, something that they feel would make a great contribution to their publication. Not because my boyfriend bullied them into doing it."

    "Fiance," he corrected softly.

    "Right," she mumbled, wiping at her cheeks again.

    He sighed and kissed her forehead. "So...what do I do, then? Just stand by when I know I could fix this?"

    "Yes." More tears came as she pressed the side of her face against his chest.

    "Okay. Since it's what you want, that's what I'll do."

    "Thank you."

    He held her close while she cried into his chest, soaking his button-down shirt.