Today I’m not worried about being late. There’s only one thing on my mind as I enter the office building. I need to know what’s going on here. Not just for my article, but for myself as well. I’m about to explode with a need to know. It’s the kind of hot desire I’ve never felt for a story.

Mr. Ford and Zach know each other.

They must. Or else they are business rivals, and spar from a distance. Either way, there’s some kind of secret connection there.

Although I left Zach’s building feeling downtrodden, like the story had turned into too much to handle, once I got to my studio apartment and jumped in the shower, I realized it’s actually a gift. Before, I was struggling just to find an angle. With this new information, I could be on to something. Now if I can just find out more about the connection the two men have…

The thing is, I have to be secretive about it all.

“Is Mr. Ford in?” I ask the receptionist, who looks at me like I’m insane.

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m Noelle. I’m a reporter here. This is my second week.”

“Oh,” she says with disinterest. “Then don’t you know how to get in touch with him yourself?”

I ignore the question.

“I’m working on an assignment for him. It’s important. I’m sure he would be very unhappy if he was made to wait.”

That gets her moving. She makes a phone call while I hang onto the edge of the counter, holding my breath.

She hangs up and points a gangly arm to the right.

“Down the hall, take a left.”

“Thanks.”

I’m off, knees shaking a bit as I go. What I’m about to do is risky. Once I get into that office and start causing a scene, Mr. Ford could very well lose his patience with me.

But it’s the only shot I have. He’s not about to hand over information, so I have to make things personal. If I lose all decorum, maybe he’ll do the same. Maybe he’ll let something slip.

It’s similar to the approach I tried taking with Ryan—Zach—but that turned out much different than I had expected.

“Is this Mr. Ford’s office?” I ask the male secretary. “I need to speak with him.”

“Yes, but he’s—”

I plow on, pushing open the heavy office door and going right in.

“Hey!” the secretary calls after me. I don’t look back at him.

Mr. Ford looks up from his desk, papers spread out in front of him and a gargantuan corner office with massive windows stretching around him. As his eyes connect with mine, the hotshot attitude I’d worked myself into goes straight out the window.

Because I’m still a woman. And he’s a hot man.

And I’m turning to putty right in front of him.

I stop a few feet away from him, hand on my hip, trying to act like I’m everything I don’t feel: brave, sure of myself, and completely unaffected by his Greek-god good looks.

I expect him to yell at me for barging into his personal space unannounced, but he simply folds his hands and leans back in his chair.

“I like the natural look.”

He says it without a hint of sarcasm. Remembering that I had no time to put on makeup after washing off last night’s raccoon eyes, I self-consciously tuck some hair behind my ear. With the exception of when I’m hitting the gym, makeup is usually a daily staple.

“How did last night’s interview go?” he asks, already moving on.

“So you did set me up.”

His perfect forehead wrinkles.

“Set you up? What are you talking about?”

“You sent me in without giving me the full details. Zach knew the whole time what was going on. He even…” My face heats up, because revealing that I was tricked makes me feel like a fool. “He even lied to me and told me that he was his assistant, as in Mr. Garner’s assistant…and I believed it.”

Mr. Ford’s jaw hardens.

“Sounds about right.”

“Why? What’s the point of all of this? If you already know Zach Garner, why send me to interview him? Can’t you just call him up yourself?”

“What makes you so sure I know him?”

My eye roll can’t be stopped.

“No offense, Mr. Ford, but I’m not that stupid. He mentioned you by name. He said that you should try being more subtle when you send one of your lackeys to get dirt on him.”

Mr. Ford’s tongue drags across his bottom lip.

“What exactly happened last night?”

More dancing around. Is this man ever going to answer one of my questions directly?

Giving up on my original game plan for this conversation, I just shake my head. Maybe if I give Mr. Ford what he wants, he’ll give me what I need to actually write a good article.

“When I got to the offices, I waited for an hour, and then a person who introduced themselves as Mr. Garner’s assistant came down. We went to get drinks, but he kept dodging my questions. So then we started talking about other things. I think he was trying to distract me, because we got, uh, close. And then he didn’t tell me he was actually Zach Garner until later.”

I don’t specify that by later, I mean the next morning.

Mr. Ford smirks.

“He can never resist a pretty face.”

I quickly look away. He knows. I’m a shitty liar, and I bet anyone could tell from my poor cover-up that I slept with Zach Garner.

“So that’s why you had me go?” I quietly ask. “It had nothing to do with my journalistic skills?”

“No one can get a story out of Garner. No typical journalist, anyway. A person needs to have other skills. We talked about this, Noelle.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t get any information on him, other than that his apartment is super clean and minimal. So there.” I throw my hands up. “Should I write an article on that?”

Mr. Ford smiles, and for a second the hardened expression he’s been wearing vanishes. He looks younger, more carefree.

But then he clears his throat and looks away, almost as if he’s caught himself sinning.

“You’ll go back, of course.”

I stare at him. Did this man hear anything I’ve said?

“He found out,” I slowly say. “He knows that I was a plant.”

“And so he knows that I know, so perhaps he thinks I am giving up.” Mr. Ford gives a subtle shake of his head. “But I don’t do that.”

My head spins with the sheer lunacy of all of this.

“This can’t work.”

“Why not? Zach already proved he has a taste for girls like you.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean much,” I snap. I hate how this conversation—this whole situation—is making me feel. I really liked the man I met last night. Now I’ve just found out he’s a fraud.

And my boss isn’t that much better of a person either.

“Listen, Mr. Ford, I really appreciate this job, but I’m not just going to be your pawn. You haven’t even told me why you want me to get info on Zach—or even what specific info to get. I’m completely in the dark here, and I’m being made to look like the fool.”

“I’ll tell you.”

He gets up and walks around the desk while I apprehensively watch. Just a couple feet away from me, he folds his arms and leans against the front of his desk. My heart speeds up.

“I’m going to publish a tell-all expose on Zach.”

“Telling what?”

He nonchalantly shrugs. “Whatever.”

“You mean you’re going to make something up.”

“Hopefully, I won’t have to. It would be better if the information you brought back was what was needed.” He dips his face to look straight into my eyes. “This could work out well for you, Noelle. I’m going to need a writer for the book.”

“What do you have against him?” I can’t keep the spite out of my tone.

His eyes flash, something personal and deep hidden in there.

“That part isn’t your concern. Don’t worry about it.”

A sharp exhale leaves me. This web is just becoming more and more tangled…

“Anyway, it won’t work.” Haven’t I already told him this?

“I think it will.”

“It won’t,” I stubbornly repeat. “Zach has already made it clear he’s telling me nothing.”

“You underestimate yourself, Noelle. I can tell you have no idea just how much power you have over men.”

Each inch of my skin shivers. This guy is my boss. And a manipulative shark at that. I wish he’d stop looking at me—and yet I also hope he never stops.

“Go back to him,” Mr. Ford directs. “Apologize. Trust me, he’ll accept. And he’ll welcome you right back in.”

“No.” It’s out of my mouth without a moment’s hesitation. “I can’t get behind this, Mr. Ford. Neither ethically nor personally. I’m sorry, but this is one article I am just not going to write. Assign me anything else. I’ll even commit to writing about the nut festival every single day until it withers up and dies, but I’m not going to help write some salacious tell-all that’s probably going to be full of lies anyway.”

Fire jumps in his irises.

“You know all about the salacious side of Zach Garner?”

I force myself to keep my mouth shut. He’s trying to get a rise out of me.

Mr. Ford straightens up, towering over me. “You won’t be writing any articles on the nut festival. You won’t be writing any articles at all. Not for a while. Go home. You’re suspended.”

“Excuse me? I’m being punished for refusing to write something absolutely immoral?”

“You’re being put back in your place for refusing to do your job. You can leave now.”

He dips his head and marches back to his seat, refusing to make eye contact. My body burns with fury, and my fingers itch to pick up the glass paper weight on the edge of his desk and smash it on the floor.

But somehow I restrain myself and walk away.

I walk past the baffled secretary, down the hall I came from. I don’t bother going to my desk. There’s nothing important there anyway. I haven’t even been here long enough to get a plant or put up pictures.

Down the elevator I go, into the parking garage across the street.

I drive all the way home, park in the street, and trudge up the stairs to my apartment.

Finally, finally, when I’m sitting on my couch, surrounded by the silence of the lonely morning, I let the tears come.