Resa was pissed. There was no getting around it.
She had thought it would be impossible to set up this interview. People like Ethan Beaufort were supposed to be aloof and removed from society, like demigods who couldn’t be touched by the normal populace. It had shocked her when he had answered the phone himself, and she had danced all the way to the break room once her appointment had been secured. She figured he must be one of those billionaires who works in bare feet and believes that everyone in the company should be equal.
Clearly, though, Mr. Beaufort was not as easy-going as Resa had imagined. It occurred to her that he might have agreed to the interview solely for the opportunity to tear her down, but she couldn’t pass up her chance at a bigger story if he would still give it to her. She could take the heat. She had to.
Resa cleared her throat. “Very well. If you don’t mind, I’d like to record this interview for accuracy.” She pulled a small digital recorder out of her bag and set it on the desk in front of her, noting how neat and orderly it was compared to her own, and especially compared to that of Mr. Stephenson.
“Fine.”
She looked away from him to pull her laptop out of her bag. When Resa had imagined the owner of a big software company, she had thought he would be some aging nerd. He would have a big belly that butted up against his keyboard, thick glasses that warped the way his eyes looked, and greasy hair that he hadn’t bothered washing in a week because he had software to make.
But Ethan Beaufort was nothing like that. His short, pale brown hair was cut close to his head and matched the stubble that clung to his chin. It was a nice compliment to his azure eyes. The software mogul was lean and muscular, a form that showed through his button-down shirt. He had left the top button undone and turned back his sleeves nearly to the elbow, exposing a solid black tattoo of a dragon.
“What’s so funny?” he suddenly demanded.
Resa hadn’t even realized she was smiling, but she tipped her head at him and laughed openly. “I don’t know if you just have some weird sense of humor or if you’re just a hypocrite.”
“I can have you kicked out of here any time, you know.”
Her career could be riding on this interview, but she didn’t care at the moment. “Everybody in the country knows that the logo for your company is a blue dragon. And you’ve even got a tattoo of a different dragon.” She pointed to the inkwork. “It’s a little more severe than mine, but it’s still a dragon.” Without thinking, she lifted her foot and pulled back the leg of her trousers. She had gotten the tattoo as soon as she was old enough, having decided a long time ago what the creature of her dreams must really look like. Its body was black, just like the one that graced Mr. Beaufort’s skin, but it’s wings were brilliant shades of green, pink and red.
“You have to admit that a marketing ploy and a tattoo aren’t the same as believing. I could get a tattoo of Santa Claus on my ass, but that doesn’t mean I believe he’s going to give me presents at Christmas time.”
Resa clicked on the recorder. “You seem bitter, Mr. Beaufort. Is that because you work long hours? Or is it because your employees just don’t appreciate your sweet manner?”
He was a handsome man, and the way he had smiled at her when she had first walked in had made her heart flutter. But the look of utter rage that now took over his face made Resa feel completely different inside. Mr. Beaufort kept his teeth clenched together as he spoke. “I’m going to give you one last chance to do this, and that’s only because my marketing director thinks it’s a good idea. If you say anything else to piss me off, you’re leaving.”
Taking a deep breath, Resa tried to compose herself. She had been rude. Even though he had been the one to start it, that didn’t mean she should continue it. “Very well. Can you tell me a little bit about what got you interested in computers?”
Mr. Beaufort tipped back in his chair and watched her for a moment before he finally spoke. “My family moved around a lot when I was a child. That didn’t give me any opportunities for making a lot of permanent friends or joining sports teams. The computer, on the other hand, was always there.”
She nodded and glanced at her screen for the next question. Resa had been up half the night creating questions, deleting them, and adding them again. It was hard to know what to ask such a prominent person, and this was her one chance. Now that they had gotten off to such a rough start, she knew he would never answer her request if she thought of another question later. “Your company creates a diverse array of products. What’s your favorite? The video games? The software? The tablets and computer systems?”
He scratched his chin impatiently. “I’m really not much of a gamer. That’s going to disappoint some people, but I don’t have the time to sit around and play games. I certainly support the fact that we put them out, though. If I had to pick, I would say our e-reader application, Wyvern Works. I’ve always been a big reader.”
Resa had other questions ready for him, but she allowed herself to dive into more depth. “Do you have a favorite book?”
Ethan shook his head. “Not really. I read a lot of classics, and a lot of diverse genres. I can’t really pick one.”
She frowned. This wasn’t going all that well; there was nothing interesting to say about the man or his company. “Where do you see your company going in the future? Do you have any specific projects in the works that you can discuss?”
He glanced at his computer, the corners of his mouth turning down more than normal, but she shook his head. “Just what you would expect. There’s a new game that will be out at the end of the month, and we’re releasing an updated version of our accounting software.”
Okay, time to try a different tactic. “What do you do differently than anyone else that has made you so successful?” Resa leaned forward, waiting to hear about how Mr. Beaufort got up early every morning to do yoga, engaged in intermittent fasting or how he only slept in twenty-minute intervals.
But he shook his head once again. “I show up to work every day, and I stay focused. I’m passionate about what I do. There’s really nothing more to it than that.”
She felt her shoulders slump as she skimmed through her list of questions. Mr. Stephenson had liked her idea, but he was going to be disappointed when he read the final article—if she even actually turned it into an article, that was. “Financial magazines estimate that you’re worth quite a bit of money. A lot of other wealthy people in your position give that money away. Do you have any charities or foundations that you work with?” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like he was going to eat her alive. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so unnerving if he wasn’t so damn good looking. Resa had seen a few pictures of him online, but they did nothing to communicate the animal magnetism that he exuded from every pore.
“I do have a few things I’m working on, but it’s really not something I’d like to discuss,” he said quietly.
“Well then, is there anything interesting about you at all?” she demanded, finally frustrated enough to say something. “Do you have any weird habits? Did your parents hug you when you were a child? Do you dream at night about blowing up the other software companies?” Resa pounded her fist on the edge of the desk.
Surprisingly, the executive remained calm. He pursed his lips as he watched her, but she thought she saw a spark of amusement in his eyes. Or maybe something else. “Sorry, I’m just a normal boring guy. Like they say, I put my pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else. I get up, I come to work, I do my job and then I go home. I’m afraid I’m not much of a story.”
Resa sucked in a breath and let it puff up her cheeks as she let it out. “I would apologize for wasting your time, but I think I’ve really only wasted my own.” With quick, snappy movements, she packed up her digital recorder and her tablet, which she wanted to smash over his smug face.
“I guess I’m just not good enough for you. That’s okay; I’m not surprised. You’re always looking for something more interesting, but I think it’s time you learned that it isn’t always there. The world is a boring, ordinary place, and you’re stuck in it.” Mr. Beaufort steepled his fingers in front of him.
“Hooray for me.” Resa stormed out of his office. The secretary at the desk outside said something to her, perhaps telling her to have a nice evening, but she breezed past and headed toward the elevator. She should have known that it wasn’t going to work. She had built up her hopes far too high, far too quickly. Mr. Stephenson had made her believe that she could really make something of herself as a journalist and not just a random blogger. She had been an idiot, and that asshole Ethan Beaufort had just made her even more of one.
When she reached the first floor and the elevator doors opened, she slowed as she walked through the lobby. It was a massive space, with the center of the room extending three stories high. Resa looked up, examining the blue dragon sculpture that hung down from the ceiling. It looked like it was going to fly right into the offices that bordered the lobby.
She didn’t get it. As far as she could tell, this man had started out with nothing. He didn’t have rich parents, and he hadn’t won the lottery. Ethan Beaufort had built a huge corporation from the ground up, and the vast majority of what he did was based on fantasy. He made video games about knights, dragons and elves. Sure, there were some boring accounting programs, but he had a dragon as his mascot for crying out loud. So why the big show of putting her down? Was he that much of an asshole? Or maybe there was more to the story.
Resa glanced toward the welcome desk. It was nearly closing time, and the clerk was packing up to leave. She flicked her curly hair as she flirted with a young man in glasses and put her purse over her shoulder. The merchandise store, which was just off the main lobby, had already closed. Someone had turned off the lights and shut the doors. Nobody was there to see her as she moved away from the building’s front doors and slipped into the stairwell.