“Good afternoon, Delilah.”
I nearly jumped in shock at the sound of Eric.
“Hi, Eric,” I said. I tried to project calm, but how well did I really do that? Most people had no idea how much an open bookthey were or how obvious their inner turmoil was; I hoped that being conscious of it made it not so bad, but honestly, I knew better. “Any major new leads happen recently?”
“Uh, no, nothing new,” Eric said, confused. As he should be. As the News Editor, he didn’t do as much journalism so much as he oversaw the work of other journalists. “But I will let you know if I hear anything from anyone.”
“Sounds good, thanks,” I said, hurrying forward, perhaps a bit rudely.
But what was I supposed to say to my boss?Hey, sorry for the question, but the truth is, I just almost fucked the King of Diamonds in a penthouse at an off-Strip casino, and I’m not even pretending to be objective anymore.Talk about a fast track to getting removed from a story.
Talk about a fast track to not having a professional reason to see Adrian any further.Not that such a thing would stop you or him at this point.
I sat down in my office, drew in a breath, and tried to center myself.
Then my phone rang, and my miserable efforts to slow my heart rate unwound. In fact, they outright reversed as I wondered if Adrian was already calling me. But no, it was a number I didn’t have in my phone. I swallowed, said, “Get it together, Delilah,” and answered.
“Delilah Reyes, Las Vegas Times,” I said. At least that sounded smooth.
“Do you know who this is?”
I did. Immediately.
“Leo Morril. How can I help you?”
He chuckled on the other end of the line. Fortunately, since this was not a billionaire I was being really unprofessional and stupid with, I could get a grip of myself. He’d try to control thedialogue, and I’d make sure that I got the answers I wanted—or let him make foolish statements trying to avoid such questions.
“Oh, there are many ways you could help me, but I understand that as a journalist, you have boundaries that must be respected,” Leo said. “Funny, though, it seems like the King of Diamonds doesn’t respect those boundaries.”
I felt my stomach drop out from under me. Where… where the fuck was this going?
“Are you calling me for actual news information, Leo, or to waste my time?”
“Such a harsh response so quickly!” Leo said with a laugh. “What’s wrong with a simple observation? An observation of the King of Diamonds meeting you for coffee and then driving you to his own casino? I know that you have access, Delilah, but sometimes access can quickly drift into unethical perks. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t know anything that happened in that penthouse.
“I don’t know where you are going with this, Leo, but I am not here to play games of appearances.”
“No?” Leo said. “I understand. But I would be curious. What would happen, I wonder, if word got out that the hard-nosed, dogged,professionalreporter Delilah Reyes was cozying up to the King of Diamonds? No,snugglingup to the King of Diamonds?”
He let the words hang. I wanted to reach through the phone and wring his neck.
“How wouldthatlook for your journalistic integrity?”
“Mr. Morril, may I remind you that as a journalist, my job is to report on the news objectively, not to craft a persona for myself. If others wish to do that, that is their prerogative. I have already told you many times over that I am working on a story about the new dynamic between the Vales and the Morrils and what each family has done and will do. If you have nothingnew to add to this story, then I will need to hang up and focus elsewhere.”
But Leo just laughed. I didn’t like the laughter. Not because it was wicked or against me; that was obvious. But because it was so sure, so confident. Whatever Leo was thinking, he felt very, very certain he was right.
“You know, you are probably familiar with what happened with the news article about Sarah Carpenter,” Leo said. “I had nothing to do with that, and I can say that beyond plausible deniability. It’s the truth. But it’s very clear that whoever on my team had the idea to plant that was an absolute idiot. Gossip and implications, sent to a tabloid that might have been read by the author’s mom and aunt. Ridiculous and a waste of time.
“But I took note of that. And it turns out, if you want something to really stick, you have to make sure the proper truth is presented. The story’s ‘truth’ about Sarah was nothing. A billionaire funding an artist who had had an accident in the past? Yawn, wake me up when the billionaire cheats on her.”
He wouldn’t. Sarah would kill him if he did.
“But a journalist and a billionaire sharing a car ride from a coffee shop in the morning? Nowthatis interesting.”
“You, of all people, Mr. Morril, should know that what people see and what actually is real are rarely the same thing. You don’t get as wealthy as you do without controlling the imagery and narrative of everything. You know ‘truth’ is malleable.”
