Page 109 of The Lair

He’s also famous for his interviewing style—casual but intense. I can see it clearly in the sobriety of the set we step in moments later—the same one I’ve seen on TV. The lights are low, the space empty except for two identical deep green velvet armchairs positioned one in front of the other. To my right, there’s a black side table with some water. George has one too.

My pulse accelerates when Tom steps away after putting a microphone on my shirt, leaving me alone with the one man who’s about to change my life.

The crew keeps moving around us, positioning cameras and microphones in every corner. Yet despite the crowded set, it feels like it’s only George and me.

“Are you ready to start?” he asks me in an easy voice.

I’m only able to nod.

“I tend to be more serious in interviews. Just as a warning,” he tells me. “Matches the ambiance.”

My lips tilt nervously because yes, he’s known for being serious and a little invasive in his interviews. He always gets the answer he’s looking for.

Oh god, what have I agreed to?

George signals something I don’t understand to the crew before setting his eyes on me. I can pinpoint the exact moment his interviewer mask slips on, and a brief wave of regret hits me—nobody knows I’m here. Not having Jada’s reassurance makes me feel momentarily weak before I realize that’s exactly why I told no one in the first place.

I’m ready to make my own choices without needing anyone’s approval. I can’t keep using Jada as a crutch, or even Travis. He makes me feel safer than I’ve ever known, and I’d give anything to be in his arms right now. I’d give anything to finish the conversation we started in his office. But I can’t think about him right now or I’ll crumble, so I take a quick gulp of water and focus on the man in front of me.

“Rolling,” a masculine voice says somewhere on the set.

George gives me a discreet thumbs-up.

I promised.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Allison Buccieri,”George starts. His voice is relaxed, mirroring the way he’s leaning into his armrest. I can tell it’s all practiced and measured. “Long time no see.”

My hands, resting on my lap, start trembling. My throat hurts when I try to speak, as if I hadn’t done it in a long time. “Hi, George.”

I feel like a deer caught in headlights, even though I’m here willingly. My fingers are clammy, and I don’t think there’s enough oxygen in this room. Could they open a window? Are there even windows on TV sets?

“You’re anxious,” George observes out loud.

My only answer is a short nod.

“You’ve been hiding for six years,” he muses. “Why come out now?”

The set gets blurry, and a buzzing sensation travels to the tips of my fingers. My throat closes, as if protecting me from saying things I will regret.

“Do you need to take a moment?” George asks, dropping his interviewer mask for a moment.

I feel myself shaking my head no.

“All right.” He sits back in the armchair, folding one leg over the other. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I glance around me, at the crew whose attention is all on me, and I wish Travis were among them. If I’d been honest from the start, maybe he’d be. If I’d started living an authentic life after leaving California like I promised myself, maybe I’d have my happy, calm life with him.

George’s question echoes in my mind as my eyes find his again, and the fog in my head and my heart clears just enough.

Why come out now?

Because lies are no longer going to write my story.

“I made a promise to myself years ago,” I start, my voice quiet. But George doesn’t tell me to speak louder, doesn’t interrupt me at all. “That I was going to make this world a better place. I don’t want to hide behind lies anymore.”

George looks at me with intent. “You talk about lies, but what have you lied about, exactly? Other than changing your name to Smith, which isn’t a lie. It’s a legal process.”

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