“I get it,” she said. “Sorry. Just be careful. That’s part of the appeal for them; most people are begging to do what they want or let themselves get bowled over easily because of their money and power. You putting up resistance… you’re going to have to put more up as you go. And you have to be prepared for Adrian to end the deal at any moment.”
The “deal.” Right. The part where he said I could call him at any point in return for journalistic coverage I was working on anyway.
Was thatreallya professional deal, or was that just a thinly veiled way for him to get us to talk more, to spend more time together, to see where things might go personally?
“I appreciate it,” I said. “Really, I do. The part about him ending it at any moment and the game rising in stakes each moment are things I hadn’t thought about.”
But for what purpose? Because you’ll be sad if it ends suddenly? Because you look forward to the game rising in stakes?
Being at the gala, I suddenly realized, had gone past the point of professional purpose. Even spending time with Sarah had gone past its point of providing me some grounding; if anything, it had served the opposite purpose. Sometimes, I needed to spend less time gathering information and more time preparing to share that information.
“But I don’t think that will matter in the end. I have to go now.”
“You just got here? Bridget and Talia should be here in fifteen minutes.”
“I know, but I’m here for work, not pleasure. And even if I wasn’t here for work, I have to be mindful that I can’t just leave my job to the hours of nine to five. We’ll catch up soon for brunch, OK? It helps that you live here again now.”
That put a smile on Sarah and enough of a high note to leave. I embraced her, told her I loved her and would see her again, and then hurried out. I didn’t look back once to see if Adrian was looking for me.
I’d gotten what I needed out of him tonight. Time would tell what else I’d need to get out of him.
Or him out of me.
When I got to the office, it was after eight-thirty p.m. My job didn’t really allow for normal hours; if anything, my working hours were closer to noon to midnight than nine to five.
But the office, in a strange way, was a sort of refuge for me. Out there on the Strip, I was observing a game of power,money, and sometimes blood. It had been way less bloody ever since King and the King’s Men had fallen, but memories of those days were not so easily removed. Every so often, a Black Reaper would be in town and arrested for some silly infraction, like public intoxication or disturbing the peace, and we’d have to write a story about it. Not fun to go and do those interviews.
In the office, however, I was the one in charge. I was the one who dictated what words made it into the article, what quotes were used, and who came out looking like the hero and who came out looking like the villain. I always did my best to defer to the truth, but in a strange way, it made it easier to understand people like Adrian. Power was alluring, intoxicating, and dangerously addictive without being checked properly.
Which might explain why power meeting a different kind of power would hit it off like so.
I gulped at my desk, trying to push out the thoughts as the recording of my conversation with Adrian played on my phone.
“What’s got you nervous?”
I jumped at the sound of my editor’s voice. Good Lord, Eric had a way of surprising me. He wasn’t a particularly large man; in fact, to be frank, he was kind of the opposite of Adrian in a lot of ways. Small, not particularly charming or attractive. I didn’t dislike him, but the contrast between him and Adrian made who Adrian was all the starker.
“Allure’s auction was pretty normal, but I think I’m learning some things about the Vale family.”
“Oh?” he said.
“Lucas is pushing hard the idea that the Vales are getting involved in the community. Adrian wants to use me as a pawn in his media war with the Morrils.”
“His media war,” Eric said dryly.
“He wants to ruin the Morrils. I’m sure the hit piece they had organized for Sarah played a role, but I’m also sure they’re aware that they are feeding us information just as much.”
Eric chuckled. His chuckle was nasally and, once more, a hard reminder of what I had just come from. I wasn’t going to say I wished I was back atAllure, because anything that threw my normal sense of operations off wasn’t pleasant.
But I wasn’t going to pretend that on a gut level, my desire was to be back atAllure. Luckily, you can override your initial instinct. Wouldn’t be the first time, you know.
“Don’t you love when billionaires go to war with each other, and our readership only grows as a result?” he said. “I don’t know how you do it, Delilah. Most of our reporters go in, try to get quotes, and it’s like running into a brick wall. You must have some special effect on Adrian to be his pawn.”
He laughed and went back to his work, but what Eric had said was nothing funny to me. I would be no one’s pawn, even for someone—especially for someone—I was attracted to. If anything, it was a chance to prove how good at my job I was.
… but how long did I want to do that, really?
I was single and in my early thirties, and I hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since college. I’d been so career, career, career that I’d refused a lot on the basis of needing to do my job. How long did I want to keep that up? Maybe not with Adrian, probably not with Adrian, but in general?
