Page 106 of Knotted

He leans back, his tone casual but direct. “I killed her story. No guarantee she won’t try to sell it somewhere else, but it won’t be with me, so...I figure you owe me.”

I narrow my eyes, the tension lifting just slightly. “If jerk face Mercer is back, I swear I’ll flick you in the forehead.”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but I was thinking you could use an escape. And now that I’ve fired Roxie, I happen to need a reporter.”

“I told you, my heart’s not in investigative reporting.” Not anymore.

“Did you?” He arches a brow, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Well, that’s a relief because I’m not looking for an investigative reporter.”

“Then, what are you looking for?”

“Connection. Did you know in Singapore, they give tax incentives to families who live close to each other? It’s their way of encouraging connection, keeping loved ones together.”

I shake my head, not even trying to fake it. “I had no idea.”

He gives me a soft smile, but there’s a spark of excitement behind it. “And in Korea, they have this beautiful tradition calledChuseok. It’s like their Thanksgiving, but it’s more than just a holiday. It’s about gathering, honoring ancestors, sharing food, memories, and, more importantly, time.”

I nod, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “That, I knew.”

His words come out more animated now. “That’s what I’m offering you! A chance to be somewhere different, to really experience life, and to write about what brings people closer. This isn’t just a job or a headline—it’s about in-depth pieces, one major story at a time.”

I fight a grin, trying to keep my excitement in check, but I can’t help it.

My mind is already running with the picture he paints. Trekking through foreign cities, tasting new foods, meeting people whose stories I’d bring to life. It’s the adventure of a lifetime, but I don’t want to get too ahead of myself.

I fell for the dream job once, and look where I am.

I bite my lip, keeping my words calm and sedate. “How in-depth are we talking?”

“For starters, six months.”

“Six months,” I repeat, thinking it through.

He dives into the details, and I’m all ears. “You get to clear your head, escape the chaos, and immerse yourself in a whole new world. While I get a reporter who writes hometown stories like no one else. Premium salary, all expenses covered. Traveling across Asia, experiencing the culture firsthand. And a whole new handle that you own.”

Each word pulls me in deeper, my mind already wandering through the possibilities. That is, until he says, “But there’s a catch.”

My heart stumbles. “What?”

“I need you on a flight first thing in the morning,” Trent says, his voice calm but full of promise. “You’ll be following the story of a rising athlete—Sora Kim. All the big media outlets are eager to cover her journey as she climbs towardOlympic status, but her family isn’t looking for flashy headlines. They want someone who can show the heart of their story—the way they work together, the sacrifices they’ve made to reach this dream. I showed them your work, and they loved it.”

My smile is instant, and somehow, I feel lighter. “They did?”

“We’re still finalizing the details with your in-house social media manager, but everything else is ready to go.”

From the back, Taylor bursts in, “She comes with full social media management!” Clearly, she’s been hanging on every word.

I laugh, shaking my head at her perfect timing, and Trent holds out a hand. “Say yes.”

The man is a hell of a salesman. And maybe it’s the exhaustion talking, or the fact that this feels like the perfect way to lick my wounds and finally reconnect with the one person I lost in all the chaos—me.

So, I agree. “Yes. On one condition. I won’t be Sydney Sun. I’ll be using my real name.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking my hand in his as we shake on it, sealing the deal.

For the next hour, we go over the details, and when we’re done, I step back, feeling lighter than I have in days. “I’d better start packing,” I say, as Taylor silently waves me off with a grin.

I find myself lingering because, for once, it’s my turn to eavesdrop. She walks Trent to the door, but there’s something different—she’s genuine. No playful banter, no flirty quips, just real curiosity. “Didn’t you start a nonprofit to create safe spaces for artists and models during their travels?”

---