I was really disliking my own body right now. Everything Adrian said should not have affected me; had it come from anyone else, it wouldn’t have. I was still professional enough not to show it, but that instinct to shiver and feel excited at the way Adrian phrased things was not good.
“You are fortunate enough that any family that obtains the power they have,” I said, letting the words hang. The Morrils weren’t the only family here that met this criteria. “The power they have has probably cracked a few eggshells along the way. It’s worth remembering, though, that my allegiance, as you will hear me say many times?—”
“—is to the truth, yeah, yeah,” Adrian said. “There’s truth everywhere. But what truth do you look at, Delilah? Are you going to look at this truth or that truth? The truth of the Morrils or the truth of some other family? The truth of what you need to do versus what you want to do?”
“Enough,” I said, cutting myself off as much as I was him. “You have yourself a deal.”
Foolish? Maybe. Adrian would be very good at framing answers as he wanted and saying only what he wanted to. But unlimited access to one of the richest men in Vegas? You never said no to that. All it took in the hours and hours of speaking of him was one slip, one great quote to slam a story home. Whether that was on the Morril family, his own empire, or something else, it just depended on what truth I chose to focus on.
“But,” I added. I had to remind Adrian that he didn’t get to set all the rules. “This is a professional deal, Adrian. I can already tell you’re trying to charm me. For what reasons, I can guess at, but for the sake of being polite in good company, I will refrain from explicitly defining.”
For a lot of men, that would have put them on the defensive. Adrian was not like most men.
“That means that if we talk after sunset, we do so for business, not personal matters. I also make no promises that I will write only good things about you. I’ve already investigated this auction, and everything seems aboveboard. But the more I learn about you, the more leads I get, the more I will have to study the underbelly of the Vale family.”
It was a threat that had less weight behind it than Adrian probably realized. The Vales had been around far longer than the Morrils, and anything negative that could be written about them largely already had. Ruthless, assholes, technically legal but ethically dubious at times…
But one other lesson I’d long ago learned in journalism was that the best stories were often the most hidden. No one I knew of had unlimited access to a Vale; that was bound to turn up a story no one else had written about.
I just hoped that said story was one only about Adrian Vale or only about the Vale family. I did not want to become a part of his story in any way beyond covering it.
With this man, that was going to be a bit of a challenge.
“I think that’s completely reasonable,” Adrian said. “Will you shake on it now?”
He extended his hand. It was thick, calloused, and well built just from looking at it. All men of Adrian’s ilk knew better than to hug a journalist or kiss them on the cheek. But some—like him, I suspected—knew that a handshake done right could be just as seductive, even more so, than an awkward hug. They also knew that a handshake wasn’t something refused; it was superficially professional and polite enough that it could not be ignored, yet done right…
Why was I overthinking this?
I extended my hand and shook. His grip was firm, but not deliberately overpowering. I worried less about the grip and more about the hair going up on my arm and how I felt a strange warmth akin to the high school desires I’d had. I wasn’t sure if Adrian noticed, but the fact that he had something of a wicked smile as he pulled back wasn’t exactly encouraging to me.
“I think this is the start of something wonderful, Delilah,” he said. “Would you care to interview me now?”
“Ye-yes,” I said. I pulled my hand back, but Adrian held it for just a beat longer. Not so long that it couldn’t be mistaken for an accidental miscommunication, but I had a feeling Adrian did nothing by accident.
I had my phone recording the conversation thereafter, and it was like a switch got flipped. Adrian knew how to answer my questions about the auction in a polite, warm, yet professional manner. Some famous figureheads had an annoying ability to sound like they were telling you so much without actually revealing anything, and Adrian definitely fit that bill. At the moment, it felt like he was sharing some deeply personal story about how the auction meant so much to him; in reality, it was a “safe” kind of deep, where no one would ever pick it apart or accuse him of sharing too much. It was the kind of thing corporate boards loved to hear because it was unassailable good press.
There were still some good quotes in there, especially about how Cassius and Sarah would make for a potent combination for the future ofAllure.I kept my friendship with Sarah out of it as I thought through, but there wasn’t anything to really worry about. At the risk of sounding mean, none of my friends were famous or big enough to be worth covering in a news story.
Finally, the story ended, I turned the recording off, and Adrian did something that raised the hair on me once more.
He put his hand on the back of my shoulder, gently turned me to the entrance, and pointed out Dante.
“Would you like to get to know a certain Vale better?” he said.
His hand position was aggressive, but not harassing or inappropriate; he had not touched my ass or even the small of my back. But there was no mistaking what kind of a touch it was—a touch that said he would ramp up over time, and at some point, if he had his way, his hands wouldn’t just be touching me. They’d be grabbing me, maybe even doing more than that.
Fanciful. Even a hint of erotic.
But I brushed the hand off.
“I will go and speak to him on my own time, Adrian,” I said. “And please do not touch me. I am a journalist, not your date.”
I was surprised at how the words felt bitter in my mouth. Even Adrian seemed surprised, taking a half-step back. But just as quickly, he recovered, giving a short head nod.
“But of course, I will respect your boundaries,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Delilah. I am sure you will be coming for me again.”
Did he say… for me?
