Page 41 of Royal Deception
No one trusts reporters—but they sure as hell fear them. A well-placed question, a suggestion that the wrong kind of press might be coming their way, and suddenly, people start talking.
I adjust my blouse, reaching into the glove compartment for a tin of fake IDs we keep for moments like this. Clipping a press badge to my lapel, I step out of the car and stride into Veridex’s sleek, glass-walled lobby, moving like I belong here.The receptionist barely looks up, and I don’t give her a chance to stop me.
My target is already locked in.
Miles Donovan. Vice President of Operations. Mark’s right-hand man. If there’s a leak in this company, he’ll know where it’s coming from.
I find his office just as he’s stepping out. He’s younger than I expected, mid-to-late thirties, sharp suit, expensive watch, the kind of guy who thinks he’s too important for small talk.
Good. I can work with that.
I step directly into his path, thrusting out a small lapel microphone. “Mr. Donovan, Amanda Beaumont,Sterling Business Weekly.” The fake name rolls off my tongue effortlessly. “I just need a quick statement on the recent Veridex security breach?—”
“No comment.” His tone is clipped, and he barely slows down.
I match his pace. “I’m writing a feature on corporate data security, and Veridex is at the center of?—”
“I don’t do interviews,” he cuts in, still walking.
“Not even when the public is questioning Veridex’s ability to protect its clients?” I press.
That gets him. A flicker of irritation. A slight hitch in his step.
But just as quickly, he recovers. “We’re handling the situation internally,” he says, his voice rising slightly as he approaches the elevator. He jabs the button repeatedly.
“If I could just get a quote?—”
He turns sharply, facing me head-on. “Look,Sterling Business Weekly—or whatever publication you claim to be from—I don’t have time for this. You want a quote? How about this—get the hell out of my face. Veridex is secure. No further comments.”
The elevator doors slide open, and before I can get another word in, he steps inside. The doors shut in my face.
I exhale slowly, pursing my lips.
Alright. If that’s how he wants to play it, fine.
Turning on my heel, I sink into one of the lobby’s armchairs, crossing my legs as I pull out my phone.
He’ll have to come back eventually. It’s still the middle of the day. And when he does, I’ll be waiting.
As I sit there, scrolling through my phone, I contemplate my next move. I can’t wait forever for Miles to return, so I need a new strategy.
The tap of high heels against the tiled floor catches my attention, and I glance up, hoping to see one of the other executives walking down the hall, but instead, I find myself locking eyes with a woman roughly my age with sleek, dark hair and a no-nonsense expression.
Then I glance down and see her shoes.
High-heeled. Black patent leather with the unmistakable red soles. Louboutins.
Expensive. Professional, but still a flex.
Bingo. I have my in.
“Those shoes are amazing,” I say as she passes. She slows down, a sudden change in her demeanor. “So Kate?” I ask.
That earns me a more genuine smile. “Good eye.”
I giggle. “Oh, my God. I’d sell my kidney for a pair of those beauties.”
She grins. “And I found them…” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “OnPoshmark!”
