The news broke three days later, courtesy of a business journalist who had sources on the Sinclair Enterprises board. Maya woke up to seventeen missed calls and a text from Alexander: Don't read the news today. I'm coming over.
Of course, the first thing Maya did was read the news.
The headlines ranged from mildly sensational to downright nasty. "Sinclair's Secretary Scandal," read one. "From Cubicle to CEO's Bed," proclaimed another.
Maya was still staring at her phone in horror when Alexander arrived, looking grim.
"I told you not to read it," he said, pulling her into his arms.
"It's worse than I thought it would be," Maya admitted.
"It'll blow over. These things always do."
"Easy for you to say. You're not being called a gold-digger in the Wall Street Journal."
Alexander's arms tightened around her. "Anyone who knows you knows that's ridiculous."
"But most people don't know me. They're going to assume—"
"They're going to assume whatever they want to assume regardless of the truth," Alexander interrupted. "The only thing that matters is what we know."
Maya pulled back to look at him. "What if this hurts your company?"
"Then we'll deal with it. Together."