Facade

“Uh-huh,” Gretchen said as she eyed me curiously. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but I’m gonna figure it out.”

“You’re a journalist. You always assume there’s a game,” I said.

“Guilty as charged,” Gretchen said.

“Speaking of, why are you even here?”

“Honestly? I was hoping to get a few quotes from you,” she said.

“Ah, so you’re actually a journalist now. Exploiting those connections. Sounds just like you,” I said.

“Rumor had it you were coming into town, and I happened to be around.”

I could hear Sam shuffle on her feet as I stepped in front of her vision. The last thing I needed was Sam shooting some innocent woman dead in my hotel room because she was a journalist trying to get her big break.

“And exactly how did you hear I was in town?” I asked.

“A bit of talk here, a bit of talk there. A well-placed call to your company, things like that,” she said.

Fuck. She probably schmoozed someone like Sam did. I really needed to hire better security teams.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “You’re good.”

“Good on what?” Gretchen asked.

I turned around and watched as Sam made her way back into her own room.

“You know, it’s pretty interesting that your personal assistant is practically naked in your room,” Gretchen said.

“It happens from time to time. PAs get a bit too comfortable, and then you have to make them sign paperwork. Comes with the territory.”

“Paperwork?” she asked. “What kind of paperwork?”

“Paperwork stating that what we have is a platonic relationship. I’ve had to employ the tactic with a past employee.”

“Ah, well. Whatever measures protect you, I suppose. Though from what I last remember, small towels weren’t your fetish. I believe it was black lace and fishnets.”

“Nope, that was just your specialty,” I said with a grin. “And boy, did you look phenomenal in them.”

“It’s good to see you again, Derek.”

“It’s wonderful to see you as well. You look good. Do you wanna come in?”

“I’m actually not here for long. I was hoping you could give me a couple of quotes on what you think about the progress of your company. It’s for an article I’m writing.”

“Really?” I asked. “Because that wasn’t your beat when we met. You hated the fact that I wanted to go into business of any sort. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s why you left.”

“Among other reasons.”

“Such as ...?”

“It doesn't make sense to open this can of worms,” she said with a smile. “We had a lot of good times. You were the first man I ever loved, Derek Steele.”

“And don’t you forget it,” I said with a wink. “Now, what are you really here for? What quote do you really want?”

I watched as Gretchen grew uncomfortable, and I sighed.

“Who told you what?” I asked.

“It’s really embarrassing now that I’ve come here to see for myself,” Gretchen said.

“See what?” I asked flatly.

“Someone gave me a hot tip you were going to be in Vegas for a couple of days having an affair with the wife of a CEO of one of the companies you’ve recently purchased. But that’s obviously not the case.”

“This what you call fighting the man?” I asked.

“Come on, Derek. You know damn well as good as I do that rich white men in your position do whatever the hell it is they want and get away with it. So yes, outing them for their bullshit ways is fighting the system.”

“Gretchen, you have no idea what men in my position go through. You’re pissed off because we’ve created billions from nothing, so you decide to take out your retribution by telling yourself you’re fighting for a higher power. But you’re not. You have no idea the life we lead, so I suggest you find a decent way to roll your own agenda.”

“Derek, what are you talking about?” she asked.

“You got a bad tip. Someone who obviously wanted me to get bad press. You’re not fighting the system. You just got roped into it. Someone wanted to throw an ex-girlfriend at me to see how I would react. Get a couple pictures of me giving you a quote and then plaster it all over the news.”