“Mm-hmm,” I say into the phone as I walk around my temporary apartment, my mind not fully on the things Lori is saying. I’m too distracted by the opulence of this luxury apartment the FCC has put me up in while I’m working on the ACL case.

Lori continues talking about the importance of getting the show canceled. How she has to make sure the airwaves are safe for families. Blah, blah, blah. I love Lori, I do. And I respect her. But Jesus Christ, she really needs to get laid. Maybe she’s forgotten what it’s like to cum your brains out.

Grabbing my mug of coffee, I step out onto the balcony overlooking the Upper East Side. These people set me up with some of the swankiest shit I’ve ever seen. I’m literally looking out over Central Park while I have my morning coffee.

“Layla, are you even listening?” Lori says.

Shit. What did she just say? As I’m hurriedly replaying the conversation in my head, I hear the door buzz inside.

“Of course I am, Lori. Look,” I add, attempting to smooth this over so she doesn’t realize I zoned out a long time ago. “Someone’s at the door. Hang on a minute.”

I go back in and cross to the door, not bothering to look before I open it. This building has top-notch security, so the only people who could be up here are staff. Sure enough, a sexy bellboy type I’ve seen around the building has a package for me.

My eyes drop down to the very obvious boner he’s sporting. Two packages, it seems. That’s when I realize I’m wearing nothing more than a sheer little scrap of fabric that makes me look like I’m straight off the pages of Frederick’s of Hollywood. Oops. And yes, I wear sexy lingerie around the house. Don’t you? If not, you totally should. You’ve gotta set the stage, babe, if you want to get some.

“Thanks,” I tell him with a wink and a suggestive smile—because why not? He’s hot, and maybe later when I’m feeling a little hot he might be up for the challenge of cooling me off. Gotta look out for my needs, right?

I sign my name with a flourish on the clipboard he’s holding, then shut the door and carry the package over to my couch. It’s a large envelope, all official looking, with Jake’s studio listed as the sender.

Adjusting my phone between my ear and shoulder, I tear open the envelope and get back to Lori. “Okay, sorry about that. So, as I was saying. You have my word. A Cunning Linguist will be canceled by the end of the month. There’s no way Jacob Kent can get around these fines. Not when we’re going to slap him with one for every episode that’s ever aired. They won’t be able to afford to continue.”

“I sincerely hope so.” Lori sounds like she’s not so sure she should've given me the assignment now. For the last few days, ever since I told her I agreed to Jake’s request that I hold off on passing judgment, she seems even more uptight.

“Don’t worry.” My voice brims with confidence as I pull out the contents of the envelope. “I’ve got this. In fact, I have a brilliant plan to make our case against them airtight. I’m going to interview Jake’s past guests. You know, check in on them. See how being on the show has impacted them.”

“What’s the point in that?” I can tell she’s curious, even though she sounds skeptical.

I glance over the long list of names on the papers Jake sent. “Lori, I’m holding the key in my hand right now. Mr. Kent has sent over a list of all the guests—he’s being really cooperative. Once I interview these ladies, it can only make our case stronger. Think about it. All these women had their most intimate problems aired on live TV. That has to be humiliating, right? But it doesn’t stop there. No, no. Not only did the entire country hear about their sexual issues, but right after they aired their dirty laundry, they proceeded to bare it all. Literally. These women had orgasms on live television like they’re fucking porn stars or something.”

Lori’s snort of disgust tells me I’m on the right track to winning her over. I know she’ll love my strategy once she sees how effective it'll be.

“My point is they have to be humiliated. Once I have a stack of signed statements indicating how ACL impacted its guests so negatively, there’s no way Jacob Kent can stand by his claim of improving lives and saving marriages.”

Lori huffs. Oops. I forgot the mere mention of marriage is a hot button with her.

“Trust me Lori. Have I ever let you down?”

“Not yet,” she says crossly. “And you better not this time.”

This conversation is going nowhere. “Okay, well, I’m going into the office today to observe Jake and Toby’s selection process. It should be very...enlightening.”

I roll my eyes, unable to keep the snark from my voice. I can only imagine how this will go. I mean, how the hell do you screen women you want to go down on?

Another heavy sigh from the newly crowned queen of negativity. “Fine. Get back to me.”

I hang up and look at my phone for a minute, then shake it off and get up. Time to grab a shower and get dressed for the day. I think about the day ahead as I shampoo my hair, trying to focus on the professional reason for spending the day with Jake, but my mind keeps going back to the thrill that raced through me every time he smiled at me when I was at the studio the other day.

I know it’s not professional, but I can’t help wondering if he’s really as good as he seems—with everything. His brain, because he seems really intelligent. I mean the man did write an international bestseller. His heart, because even though I don’t buy his bullshit, the things he said about making people’s lives better were really nice. And, of course, his tongue, for obvious reasons. I don’t want to admit it, but Jake seems like the total package. It could all just be an act, though. You can’t trust a man who makes his living selling sex.

But still...something about him makes me want to trust him. Or at least find out how much of what I see is the real deal.

Really, it would only be smart for me to find out. Maybe these are things I need to know in a professional capacity. For research. Yeah. That’s it. I need to know just how good Mr. Jacob Kent is off camera so that I can make a stronger case.

That’s all it is. Just business.