Hello Lovelies,

Thank you so much for the support on the last chapter. Uploading a new story (even if it is part of a series) is never easy. I'm overwhelmed and grateful by the response so far.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. More coming soon!

Much Love,

Chelsea xx


Margaret Talai – Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. Hope you enjoy this one too. Much Love x

Paula White – Thank you! I really hope you will enjoy this story. I'm excited to share it with you all. Much Love x

Elisa Marshall – Thank you! I'm glad you're liking it so far. I hope you like this chapter too! Much Love x

DoloresDeeHowe – Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Much Love x

SuzB – Thank you! There is definitely something up at SIP… all is explained in this chapter! I hope you like it. Much Love x

Naomi – Thank you! That is great to hear. I'm glad you enjoyed The Vow. I really hope you will enjoy this story as much! Much Love x


Everybody piled into the conference room before 11am, cramming into the tiny space until we were packed like sardines. It didn't feel remotely comfortable, physically or mentally. It didn't seem right seeing everyone in one room, seeing their confused and worried faces spread from corner to corner.

Mark stood beside me, leaning against the back wall, his feet crossed at the ankle and his arms folded around his chest. I wished I had his degree of calmness. My stomach was twisting into knots. I was picking up on everybody else's anguish. I was having a hard time stopping myself from chewing on my lip or biting my fingernails.

"Thank you for arriving promptly -" one of the suits at the front of the room spoke gruffly, clearing his voice in order to address us. He was one of three men, each middle-aged and greying. The one seated on the left was making notes, the one on the right glancing around the room and assessing each of us in turn. "I know this is hardly ideal but it is easier to talk to you all together, rather than have the same conversation over and over. It's only fair you all find this out at the same time."

"Can we cut to the chase? You're busy, we're busy, so let's get on with it, yeah?" Mark grumbled, staring directly at the guy in the middle. It was the first hint of weariness to emanate from him. "What's this about?"

The middle man coughed and peered down at the folder laid out in front of him. He pressed his palms together and sighed.

"We received news on Friday afternoon that Mr Savidge had been taken to hospital following a heart attack," he began. "As you should already be aware, Mr Savidge has been president of SIP since it was established in 2003. He's been at the helm since day one."

"And?" Mark prompted. A frown wormed through his brows. "Is he okay?"

After a pregnant pause, the man shook his head.

"Mr Savidge passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning," he revealed.

My hand crept to the base of my throat.

I had only met Mr Savidge on a couple of occasions but I had greatly enjoyed his company. He had quickly put me at ease, despite my crippling nerves when I first met him. I had been asked to conduct a presentation for him and his MDs. I expected a fierce dinosaur, ready to roar, but actually found a friendly giant with a welcoming hand.

He was passionate about books. He loved SIP. It was his baby.

I felt so sorry for him and his family.

"We are here today to discuss the next steps," the man continued. He gulped hard. "We have been asked to come here and look at what can be done in the interim."

"What do you mean?" Mark questioned. He peeled himself from the wall, straightening his spine, broadening his shoulders as if readying for battle. "What's going to happen?"

"Mrs Savidge has been appointed Mr Savidge's sole beneficiary. Upon his passing, everything has been transferred directly to her. That includes this company."

"And? So we've got a new boss?" Mark shrugged.

"Not exactly," the man shook his head again. "Mrs Savidge has decided that she wishes to sell Seattle Independent Publishers, as soon as possible, to minimise any further costs to her and her family."

Mumbles swam around the room, side-glances shooting this way and that. The unease was rippling through all of us. I dug my heels into the carpet, my legs becoming leaden.

"You may not have been aware but Mr Savidge pumped a lot of his own money into the company, perhaps more than he should have," the man observed. I doubt he had read a book since finishing high school. He probably didn't understand how a bibliophile operates. "He used money from his other ventures to keep this company going, sometimes taking an enormous loss in the process."

"And his wife doesn't see the point?" Mark scowled.

"She has been briefed on the current state of the company and its finances and she wishes to sell," he reiterated, coyly. "She had been telling Mr Savidge for a while that SIP wasn't viable in the long-term."

The mumbles shifted to groans, frustration seeping through.

"We hit a rough patch, I'll admit," Mark shook his head. "But things are looking up now. All of our numbers are soaring. Turnover has increased tenfold!"

"That may be true, but the fact of the matter remains that Mr Savidge supported the company and provided a much-needed backbone. Now he is gone, the situation has changed."

"So, what, you're shutting us down?" someone at the front asked.

"No," the man replied. "We are looking for a new buyer to takeover. The business is now listed for sale."

"You're consolidators?" Mark snorted. He raised his chin and slowly nodded. "You're here to cut costs until a new buyer is found, aren't you?"

The man dropped his eyes to his folder again. Mark had clearly hit the nail on the head.

"What's the plan, then?" Mark pressed on. He was like a dog with a bone. He wasn't letting up. "Are you going to start selling off assets if a buyer can't be found straight away?"

"We will be looking at every possible avenue to see if we can minimise costs to Mrs Savidge until a buyer is found," the man churned out his memorised reply. "She has other finances to consider and SIP is the least valuable to her. It makes sense to cut ties at this stage."

"And screw the rest of us over in the process?" Mark retorted.

"Employee losses will be a last resort," the man promised, but his words fell short of holding any meaning.

"But it's on the table?" another voice asked, somewhere to my right. I looked in that direction and saw a sea of angry faces. "Some of us could lose our jobs?"

"It's a possibility," the man confirmed. "But, as I said, it will be a last resort. If a buyer is found soon, there will be nothing to worry about."

"How long?" Mark posed the question I think all of us were wondering. "How long are we talking? How quickly do you need to get a buyer?"

"Mrs Savidge has cleared a ten-week grace period," the man read from his notes. "If no buyer has come forward after ten weeks, we will come back and start the process of consolidating assets with possible redundancies for some of you."

Ten weeks?

That's hardly any time at all.

Is it even possible to find someone to take on the business in that time frame?

Even though the numbers are looking up, there was no hiding the previous struggles SIP has faced. The entire book industry has struggled for years. Most people think it's a dying trade and destined for the scrap heap.

How likely is it that we'll find another ardent reader to take us on?

And if there will be job cuts, how many of us will go?

My stomach sank as my head dropped to the floor.

It took me this long to find a job I love, in an industry I am fanatical about, it seemed to take forever.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

Oh god.

I know how this works.

The last one in is the first one out.

And that's me. I was the last person to join the company.

"We hope it won't come to that, but we have a duty to inform you there is a chance jobs will be at risk," the man continued but his voice had muffled considerably.

The three suits lingered at the front of the room for a moment, answering just a few questions from my concerned colleagues before darting out of the room and leaving a trail of despair in their wake.

One by one everybody filtered out, until it was just me and Mark left behind.

I felt his hand settle on my upper arm.

"Shit news to come back to, huh?" he murmured. I lifted my head and sought out his friendly gaze. He gave me a small smile. "Try not to worry."

"Easy for you to say," I sighed. "There's no way they'll get rid of you. You're the most senior person on site. You're irreplaceable."

"And so are you," he protested, but I shook my head at him.

"I'm just an editor," I said.

"You're not just anything," he dismissed my comment with a grumble. "You're an integral part of my team. I'm not going to sit back and let them get rid of my MVPs."

I managed a weak smile but I knew it didn't reach my eyes.

"We'll get a new buyer," he tried to assure me. "We're doing great. We're getting great publicity, our social media accounts are getting more hits every day, it's all positive. Someone will take a look at the figures and see it's a worthwhile investment."

"I hope so," I sighed again. "For all of our sakes."

Mark spun me into a hug, my head automatically dropping onto his shoulder.

"I won't let anything happen to you, honey," he whispered, patting my back as he made his promise. His words sounded more convincing than the suit's. "If you go, I go. I can't steer this ship on my own."

"You mean that?"

"One million percent," he hummed. "I'm not gonna lose my best girl."

I relaxed in his hold, allowing my shoulders to unfurl.

"Anyway, if the shit does hit the fan, at least you've got a hunk at home to look after you," he snorted. "You can always become a trophy wife and sit back while Christian makes the big bucks."

"Never going to happen," I refused instantly, pulling sharply away from him. I frowned as I shook my head at his suggestion. "There's no way in hell I'll let that happen. Over my dead body."

"It's an option," he shrugged, playfully.

"Not for us," I replied. "Christian and I support each other, it's a two-way street, there's no way I'll ever live solely off his money. I won't turn into my mother."

Mark narrowed his eyes at me. He had picked up on the bitterness in my words.

"Oooh, I'm sensing drama on the mommy front," he sang, pursing his lips. "Want to tell me more over a coffee?"

"No, not right now," I said. "I need to get back to my desk. I'm still working my way through my emails."

I began to turn away when he caught me by the arm, bringing me to a stop.

"You know my door is always open," he urged. "If ever you need to talk about something. Doesn't matter how big or small. I'm here."

"I know," I nodded. "I appreciate it."

He gave me another smile and sent me on my way.

I exited the conference room and shuffled down the hall, heading for the staircase. I climbed to the top and rounded the corner, making a beeline for the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I needed something warm and soothing after the news we had just received.

I was about to enter through the archway when I heard muffled voices, the sound slowing my footsteps.

Leaning against the adjoining wall, I listened in for a second.

"You know we're all screwed," I heard someone say. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to determine who it was. Josh from printing? "None of us are safe now."

"That's not strictly true," a female voice snorted. It sounded like Maria, one of the line editors whose desk is closest to my office. She had sent me a beautiful, handcrafted card for my birthday. "Some of us are safe."

"Well, yeah, Mark isn't –"

"I'm not talking about Mark," she huffed. "I'm talking about little Miss Perfect."

"Who?"

"Ana, you dumbass!"

A cold shiver flashed down the length of my spine.

"There's no way she'll get the bullet. She's on a pedestal. Has been since she got here."

"Mark adores her."

"Mark's a sucker for compliments and someone who is prepared to stroke his ego," Maria groaned. "If he wasn't gay, she'd probably have crawled all over him by now."

"I don't think that's fair," a second male voice intervened. "She doesn't seem the type -"

"Nobody thought Jack was the type to steal thousands of dollars from the company, but he still did it," she shot back. "You can't take people on face value."

"She's a hard worker, you can't fault her on that," the intervener added. "She gets shit done. She makes her deadlines."

"She came here with no experience and waltzed right into an editorial position," Maria continued.

"Mark saw something in her."

"Mark has a crush on her fucking fiancé," she sighed. "We all know she only got that job because of who she's dating and now she's getting married to him, she's the most precious thing SIP has under its belt. She's the golden ticket."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, you must have seen the articles. Any time this place is mentioned, her name comes up and it's swiftly followed by a convenient mention of the infamous Christian Grey. Everyone goes gooey-eyed whenever he's mentioned. Personally, I don't see the appeal…"

"You think that's enough to keep her job safe?"

"Who's going to get rid of Christian Grey's wife? He'll sue anyone who dares upset her," Maria taunted. "He'll make sure her job is safe and kept closely under wraps. It's not what you know, it's who you know."

"Let's hope it won't come to any of that," the third voice said after a beat of silence. "Maybe SIP will get a buyer."

"Maybe her doting fiancé will buy it," Maria cackled. "A wedding present for her. Here, sweetheart, have a business, let's expand our empire. It's a joke. I don't know about you guys, but I'm looking for another job. I want to jump before I'm pushed. I'm not sticking around to watch Ana run the show. I'd rather stick pins in my eyes."

I slid along the wall and ducked around the corner, hiding from view as I saw Maria and Josh leave the kitchen, carrying their mugs over to their respective desks.

I hesitated a few moments before dipping inside the kitchen, almost running straight into Ben, who I now recognised as the third voice. He worked on non-fiction.

"Ana… erm… you okay?" he asked, his eyes shooting down to his mug as he stirred his coffee. His cheeks were flushed.

"Yeah," I lied. "You?"

"Alright," he shrugged. "Bit of a shock. Poor ol' Savidge, eh?"

"Poor him," I nodded. "I guess you never know when your time is up."

"Definitely," he agreed. "It's a sad state of affairs, that's for sure."

The air in the kitchen was cold and I could see his shoulders creeping higher, nearing his ears. He dropped his spoon in the sink with a clatter and cleared his throat.

"Right, I'll leave you to it," he muttered. "You taking lunch at one, same time as usual?"

"I might just eat at my desk," I shook my head. Not that I could stomach the thought of food right now. "You can forward your calls to me, if you're heading out."

"Thanks," he smiled. "You're a star."

He nodded and quickly dashed out of the kitchen. He couldn't get away quick enough.

I sank against the nearest counter and exhaled a long breath.

I had fought hard to prove my worth and detach myself from Christian's name and reputation. I've never wanted to rely on him, more so now we're getting married. I've never been interested in that side of him. It means nothing to me. The money, the attention, the fame. I don't care about any of it.

I didn't even want him to help me find this job. I fought him on it for weeks, only letting him check out my resume and recommend some changes in the end. He may have put out the feelers and heard about the vacancy here, but I did all of the legwork.

He didn't get me into SIP. He promised he would never get involved.

No one even knew about us until Kate's article was published, and that was after I started here.

But does everyone think I'm only here because I'm riding on Christian's coattails? Is that the general consensus now?

"What a fucking day," I groaned, kicking out at the cabinet in front of me. "Just what I needed on my first day back."