Written by a Woman

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

ZAID

I didn’t plan to barge into Brandon’s office today, but after sitting at my desk and seeing the email he sent out to the entire company, I decided I needed to. I was fueled with irritation as I reread the email a few times, taking a moment to breathe through my nose before I decided to confront my old friend in person.

Brandon had hired a Chief Financial Officer. Something he figured we needed with how rapidly our company was growing every day. While I agreed that having a person in a position like that was probably a good move to make at this point, because we were in the process of receiving another round of funding for our tech, and dotting the Is and crossing the Ts with Boson Motors, I was annoyed that I was somehow still the CTO.

Brandon knew my position was supposed to be temporary.

If he was in the mindset to hire a CFO, which must have been the big announcement he mentioned during our texts before the Tennessee trip, he could probably be persuaded to take my request for a replacement more seriously.

I rapped my knuckles on his door before walking in.

He sat at his desk; his dark blonde brows furrowed as he thumbed away on his phone with both of his elbows resting on his desk. His office space screamed CEO of an up-and-coming tech company, with fancy plants, abstract paintings, and a hammock in the corner. While I wasn’t comfortable being in a managerial position this high up in the company, it was obvious that Brandon was living for it.

His blue eyes flicked up to me as I entered before he gave me a friendly grin and continued to look at his phone, “What’s up, Zaid?”

I cleared my throat, wondering how to toe the line of college friend vs. professional colleague during this conversation.

“I saw the email you sent this morning,” I decided to start with that, taking a seat on his leather couch and sitting back, trying to look relaxed, “You think she’s a good fit?”

“Oh yeah,” Brandon nodded his head before frowning once more at his phone and finally setting it down, giving me his attention, “She actually used to work at the same company that Jacqueline came from.” I raised my eyebrows at that. That was now two employees we had hired from Blix, a massive social media company that competed with others like Facebook or Instagram. They had millions of users worldwide, and younger generations were much bigger fans of Blix. I was positive they were going to change the entire social media game.

“Wow,” I replied, “What made her want to come here? We couldn’t possibly pay her as well as Blix could.”

“No,” Brandon lifted a shoulder, “But she isn’t exactly hurting financially either. I guess she had been with Blix since the start and got a pretty good stock investment. I think she’s cashed out and is interested in working at a smaller company now.”

“Huh, what was her name again?”

“Nicole Young,” Brandon replied, “She’s starting in the next few days, I believe.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms with a friendly expression on his features, “She’ll take the office next to mine that is currently being used for storage.”

“Alright,” I rubbed my hands on my thighs as I sat forward, trying to force the confidence in me to say the next thing, “So, have you considered it might be time for me to step down?”

Brandon’s eyes widened a little at me before he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk again, “You really don’t want to be CTO?”

I shook my head, “I don’t think I’m the best fit for the position.” Why he was sounding so surprised made something bitter rise in my chest. I had made my feelings very clear, why he was acting obtuse about it was beyond me.

Brandon was already shaking his head by the end of my sentence, “You’re great. The board and the investors love you. You explain the tech so well, and it’s helpful that the man who built it can be the one selling it.”

I frowned a little, “I can see the benefit, but this isn’t a position I’m interested in keeping. I’d rather be a step or two down, reporting to the CTO or managing a smaller team of my own. Getting my hands dirty with the code that’s being developed, brainstorming new features that clients want. That sort of thing.”

Brandon looked genuinely confused at my words, which made irritation simmer inside of me because this wasn’t the first time we had had this type of conversation.

“I hadn’t been thinking about it,” Brandon admitted, “But I will now that I know you’re unhappy making more money.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at his passive-aggressive comment. It was all about money to him. Forget what the job description entailed; it came down to the dollars in his account. Not that Brandon was unethical for being so focused on money, because it wasn’t like he made an excessive amount as CEO. In fact, Brandon took a pay cut compared to other tech companies our size, because he didn’t want the lowest-level employee at Sun Steer to need to get a second job to make ends meet.

However, he clearly still struggled with wrapping his head around me also wanting to take a pay cut in the form of stepping down from a position he personally loved.

“I’d love to help with the process too, I understand that we can’t just hire anyone to replace me. I’d love for Nikhil to want the role, but he’s made it very clear that he is happy with where he is...There was a man we interviewed for a different position a while back, who was overqualified. He might be a good alternative to consider, too.”

Brandon’s expression was almost comical, filled with evident confusion while still trying to be polite about other people’s wants, “Yeah, I’ll talk to Jacqueline and see what kind of candidates would be interested in taking over your position.”

“That would be appreciated,” I nodded as I stood from his desk, “I’ll let you get back to your day.”

“Thanks,” Brandon smiled as he adjusted his desk chair to face his computer, grabbing the mouse and bringing the screen to life.

I had just stepped out of his office and started walking towards mine when I heard Signe’s familiar two-knock rap on my door. I lifted my head to see her frozen mid-stride as she was passing my office on the way to Jacqueline’s, a company iPad in her other arm.

“Oh,” Signe grinned, but her cheeks slowly became stained pink, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I grinned, glancing around and seeing only a few engineers down the way chatting. We weren’t alone, but we were far enough from other employees to probably not be heard. I double-checked Jacqueline’s office to see that her door was shut.

“I thought you were in your office,” Signe explained, jutting her thumb behind her to my closed door. Through the glass next to my door, you could see how the sun shining through the office window lit up the room.

“Ah,” I nodded, stopping a pace or two away from her. Her cheeks were still pink, and I realized that this was the first time we had seen or spoken to each other at work since Tennessee. We had sat in separate seats on the plane ride home the following morning, and Signe took the rest of the workday off because she didn’t think it was worth it to go back into the office for two more hours of the workday. Plus, jet lag.

I had gone back and worked with Brandon and Jacqueline on the deal we had agreed on with Boson Tractors.

That brought us to today, a Friday.

Looking at Signe, wearing a dark green sweatshirt with light wash jeans that hugged her thick thighs and impeccable ass, while falling loose around her knees and calves, made me realize how difficult it would be to see her in the office without thinking of our kiss in her hotel room.

There was writing on Signe’s sweatshirt again, and I made a point of reading the text.

“Are you really staring at my boobs right now?” I heard Signe whisper in surprise, a smile in her voice.

I smirked, pushing my glasses up my nose a bit as I read out loud, “I closed my book to be here.”

Signe’s lips parted as she glanced down at her sweatshirt, pulling it away from her body to confirm the text I had just read, “Oh, duh,” she palmed her forehead, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink, “Of course you were just reading my shirt.”

“But if I was?” I asked, stepping forward again to get closer to her but far enough away that others wouldn’t be suspicious, “Just staring?”

Signe grinned while pressing her lips together, her hazel eyes glancing around the office space we were in before looking back up to me, “It wouldn’t exactly be professional.” She replied with a whisper.

“This is true,” I leaned against the wall, crossing one of my ankles over the other, loving how her light eyes tracked the movement and how she seemed to shift closer to me in response, “Though, neither is what you begged me to do to you in Tennessee.”

Her eyes widened as she swiveled her head around, double-checking that nobody was around and listening to our hushed conversation. I tucked my bottom lip in between my teeth, delighted that she was blushing as much as she was. Did our time in her hotel room also replay in her mind every spare moment? Did she also get off to the memory of what we did as soon as she was in her own bed?

“You’re…bolder about this than I expected you to be,” Signe replied, hugging her iPad close to her chest as she also leaned against the wall I was on, looking at me with mischief in her eyes, “I enjoy this side of you.”

Thank fucking god .

“Have you thought any more about that night?” I asked, trying to swallow around the dry gravel that masked my voice every time I got close to this exquisite woman.

Signe’s eyes met mine for a moment before they dropped to my lips as she parted her own, “All the time.”

“All the time,” I agreed with her.

We stood there, the murmurs of distant voices of other Sun Steer employees echoing around us as we took the other in. I wondered how I could go about my day without wanting to touch her. To feel her skin under my hands. To pull those desperate sounds from her lips that haunted me in the best possible way.

“Come to dinner with me,” I tried not to visibly wince at my choice of words, making my request sound like a demand. I wanted it to be Signe’s choice, not like I was pressuring her to do so.

Signe grinned, gnawing on her plump bottom lip I could still remember the taste of as she eyed me up and down, “I’m free tomorrow night?” was her reply.

I smiled in relief; glad she wasn’t thrown by my over-eager wording.

“I can pick you up at seven?” I questioned, my eyes flicking up to some sales reps behind her that were making their way toward the managerial office wing.

“That sounds nice,” Signe smiled at me, before pulling the iPad away from her chest and glancing down at it, “I should get this over to Jacqueline before I forget.”

I nodded, shoving my hands in the pockets of my slacks because it took every muscle in my body not to grab her by the shoulders, shove her against the wall I was leaning on, and taste her lips again.

“Have a good day, Ms. Lange,” I stood straight as she started to walk away. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes taking their fill as they dragged up and down my body, before grinning to herself and facing forward. Turning her back to me, she knocked on Jacqueline’s office door.

I was wrecked for this woman.

No matter what happened in my workday, if I stepped down as CTO tomorrow or a month from now, I only had one objective in my mind.

Figuring out how to get my lips on Signe’s again as fast as humanly possible.

* * *

SIGNE

The amount of effort it took for me to smile normally at the camera was embarrassing.

I sat in my little studio apartment, on a video call with my agent and editor, getting ready to tell them why I called this random meeting.

“So,” I gulped, before wincing the slightest bit and deciding to rip the band-aid off, “I think we should change some things about Zayne and his character.” I nodded once, and flipped through my notebook as if this was a super serious decision I had planned. And not a decision I made because I crossed an ethical boundary by writing fanfic of a very real person, but I also made out with him.

And was currently “exploring things” with him.

Changes had to be made.

“What kinds of things?” Michelle asked.

“Um,” everything ? “His name, for starters.” It was a change I should have made a long time ago. Except I sucked at naming characters in my books. Names were the bane of my existence. I usually just googled a long list of names and slapped one on that didn’t remind me of anyone I hated.

Except for Zayne.

Because it sounded like Zaid.

I was such a loser.

“This again? To what?”

“Um…well…” I inhaled through my nose, “I am wondering if we should change Zayne’s background a bit, too.”

Michelle and Layla stared at me in silence for a moment before Layla chimed in, “Like, his trauma?”

“No, like,” I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m thinking I want to write a male lead with a different ethnic background. Maybe someone Eastern European—oh, south Asian would be good, too.”

They both just stared at me.

“But why?” Michelle started clicking on her computer, her eyes shifting to stare at whatever she pulled up on her screen, “Do you not feel like you’re doing a good job writing a Middle Eastern lead? Because we have sensitivity and authenticity readers who say otherwise so far.”

I inhaled a nervous breath through my nose, “No, no,” I shook my head once, “I’m just wondering if Zayne even fits in this story. I’m wondering if I should save his character for another story, is all.” I lied. I had no intention of using Zayne at all in any future writing if I could get away with it.

My editor winced a little bit at my words, “I disagree, and frankly, it’s a bit late to be making such drastic changes in the story. I’m in the middle of my last round of proofreading the manuscript.”

“Agreed,” Michelle nodded, “As I’ve mentioned before, the hype from this story is specifically because of Zayne. How you wrote him, how readers felt about him, and how artists felt the need to illustrate him and bring him to life. You became popular because you’re an excellent writer, Signe, don’t get me wrong,” I felt my stomach churn at her words, “But we can’t pretend that the love readers have for Zayne’s character wasn’t also a huge draw to your book.”

I nodded; I wasn’t threatened by her assessment. It was true. Readers fell in love with Zayne. Artists fell in love with Zayne. Hell, I was dangerously headed in that direction with Zayne’s inspiration if I was being honest with myself.

“I see,” I nodded, “I get what you’re saying. I was just wondering if I should save Zayne for another book. Maybe write a different love interest for this one.”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t be using Zayne’s character that we’re not aware of?” Layla asked, almost mindlessly. She was also scrolling on her iPad, a small smile on her face as she read whatever she was looking at.

I felt my throat tighten with nerves.

Michelle and Layla never once asked me about the Zaid/Zayne livestream fiasco all those months ago, and I have to assume that’s because they never saw anything. They were busy and trusted me to run my social media how I saw fit. I doubt they actually scrolled through my page often.

My social media had been completely Zaid-free the last couple of months though, except for the one rogue account that will DM me asking if I wrote Zayne based on anyone else.

I just left that reader on read.

Could I just tell my agent and editor that Zayne resembles my coworker too much and it feels icky to proceed with the story as is? At this point, I felt like I had no other choice. But I didn’t need to give them all the nitty gritty details. Instead, I could give them as much of the truth as I felt comfortable with.

“The thing is,” I sighed, feeling the heat pool under my cheeks and neck, “Zayne is inspired by a real person. Someone I know.” I felt my shoulders scrunching in on myself, and I tried to straighten in my seat and look less anxious than I felt, “I just don’t want to create any complications for you both, knowing the inspiration behind the character.”

“Oh, thank god,” Layla grinned and slumped back in her seat, “So we don’t need to make any big edits after all.”

I wanted to throw up, “We—we don’t?”

“No,” Layla shook her head once and pulled a hair tie off of her wrist, sitting forward and pulling her hair back, “Correct me if I’m wrong Michelle, but if the similarities between Zayne and whoever you based him off of are really that blatant, I think all we’d need is some form of written consent from him that we can continue with the story as is.”

I held my breath, not relieved in the slightest to hear that solution from her.

“That’s right,” Michelle nodded, “Authors write characters based on real people they know all the time, but if you’re really this worried about it, securing his written consent will help ease that anxiety you’re clearly feeling right now. The anxiety that looks like it’s giving you some cold feet before we move forward.”

I tilted my head side to side, “I guess that’s a good way to describe it.” I would have gone with crippling panic, but tomato-tomahto.

“Something else to keep in mind,” Layla added, “Is that you’re not in a position that normal trad authors are in. People are already familiar with a big portion of the story. Like Michelle said, they already love the characters. Changing things like Zayne’s ethnicity could be very problematic and put a bad taste in reader’s mouths—even if you gave him an alternative minority background.”

“Oh,” I felt my shoulders slump, “I didn’t consider that aspect of making those changes…” In other words, I was in deep shit and needed to see it through.

“But we don’t need to change anything,” Michelle chimed in, “Because all we need is that form of written consent from Zayne’s inspiration because if submissions are successful, publishers would want that confirmation anyway. That way the publisher can avoid any potential lawsuits.”

“That makes sense,” I nodded, feeling completely steamrolled but not having any idea how to avoid this.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about while we are all here, Signe?” Michelle asked, clicking away at something on her computer.

I sat for a moment, wondering if I should put my foot down, but feeling a large lump form in my throat instead, so I just shook my head and eventually, we all said our goodbyes before ending the call.

Fuck .

How did I get out of this?

Was there a way for me to start any type of relationship with Zaid without him knowing about this? According to these women, no, no there wasn’t.

The man didn’t even know I was a writer, let alone that I wrote a character that closely resembled him.

I was nothing but a meat suit of anxiety at this point.