Mr. Thompson leaned back in his chair, gesturing for me to sit. “Ah, Kendra. Yes, please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied, settling into the chair across from him.
“I’ve got a new story for you,” he began, his tone calm but measured. “It’s big—probably the biggest of the year. If you crack it, it could make your career.”
My heart skipped a beat.The biggest story of the year?A smile tugged at my lips, excitement blooming in my chest.
“Thank you, sir. I’m honored, but... why me? I’ve only been here a short time.”
“Because I like what you’ve done so far,” Thompson said, leaning forward slightly. “And more importantly, you have connections to the center of our story.”
My smile faltered.Connections?“Sorry, sir, what connection? And who’s the story about?”
“Antonio Michaelson.”
The name hit me like a freight train. My neighbor? Antonio? “You want me to write about Antonio Michaelson?” she repeated, her voice unsteady.
“Not about him personally,” Thompson clarified. “But about his family business.”
“His family business?” My mind reeled. “The winery?”
“Bellavista Winery, yes. There’s been talk for months about some big developments there. Something’s going on behind the scenes, and nobody’s been able to get close enough to figure out what. But you… you’re already close. You can get the inside scoop, Kendra.”
I stared at him, my thoughts in turmoil. Antonio? The quiet, brooding man who lived next door was the heir to Bellavista, one of the most prestigious wineries in the state?
I had heard about the Michaelson family in passing, but I never connected the dots. Why would a man from a billionaire family be living in a modest apartment like me?
“Kendra. Kendra!” Thompson’s voice snapped her out of her daze.
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re not saying anything.”
I didn’t need to think about it. I couldn’t do this. Writing a story about Antonio’s family felt... wrong. “Could I pass on the assignment, sir?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Thompson leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “That depends. Is there another Kendra Ryan living next door to Antonio Michaelson?”
I let out a defeated sigh. “No, sir.”
“Then no, you can’t pass on the job.”
I bit my lips, my stomach twisting into knots. “And what if I don’t want to do it?”
His tone darkened. “It wasn’t a request, Miss Ryan.”
“But, sir—”
“You’ll get the details by the end of the day,” Thompson said, cutting her off. “I expect you to deliver, Kendra. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Sir…” I stuttered again, trying to get words out, but they stayed stuck in my throat. I couldn't imagine myself doing what he wanted me to for several reasons.
And the most important reason for them was; to be able to get the information needed for this story, I would need to be more than just neighbors… but it would all be just a ruse.
“That would be all, Miss Ryan.” Thompson said, dismissing me. He picked his phone and got on a call, ignoring my presence.
I walked out of the office, still reeling from the conversation.What am I supposed to do?
Peter was the first to notice my expression when I returned. “That’s not the face of someone who just got the biggest story of the year,” he teased.
