Page 35 of The Grumpy Billionaire
“How does someone so young decide to build an empire around reuniting lost loves?” I asked.
Now Reid looked truly uncomfortable. He turned his neck as if trying to work out a kink, his expression contracting into an unwilling scowl.
When he finally did speak, his voice was tight.
“I never talk about that.” His color deepened noticeably.
“Why not?” I asked. This was getting ridiculous.
Reid’s eyes pinned me with a hot blue glare. “Because no one would like the answer. The truth would be bad for business.”
“How bad could it be? It’s not like you stole the idea or something… is it?”
And now the hot glare was in full flame.
“Of course I didn’t steal it,” he snapped, his public reserve completely cracked. “I tapped into an unmet need. I figured out what people wanted, and I gave it to them. I preyed on all the sentimental suckers who believe in love and buy that whole idiotic meant-to-be shit.”
Reid grabbed his microphone and stood up in one swift move, ripping the cord out of his shirt, sending buttons bouncing to the floor and across the long tabletop. He let it drop from his hand and pointed at Sheldon.
“If you air that—I swear on everything I own I’ll sue your station until it can’t afford to turn on a light bulb. Then I’ll sue each of you personally.”
His shaking hand moved to point at me, his voice dropping to an ominous whisper. “I. Will. Own. You.”
Then he strode out of the room without another word. Sheldon and I looked at each other in stunned silence.
Shel blew out a long breath. “That is one cynical dude.”
He removed the camera from the tripod and crossed the room toward his bag. “Well, it was nice working with you.”
“What do you mean?” I folded the heavy black tripod.
Sheldon reached for it and lifted it from my hands. “I mean—Rob’s gonna have a shit-fit. You’re the first reporter Mancini’s ever sat down with for an interview, and you pissed him off in under a minute.”
“Me? I didn’t say anything. You saw—he just blew up for no reason.”
Sheldon dropped his chin and lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe it wasn’t what you said. Maybe it was that whole heavy-breathing, eye-humping thing you two were doing beforehand.”
“What?” I shrieked.
Yanking the power cord from one of the stand lights out of the wall, I marched across the room to unplug the other one.
“This is all on him. I just asked him regular questions. And I didn’t doanythingdifferent miking him up than I do when I’m helping anyone else.”
I stopped and breathed, one hand going to my forehead as I stared at the floor.
“Of course, Rob’s never going to accept that. I guess I’ll be putting together a new resume reel after all. Crap. I knew this was a terrible idea.”
* * *
“Brilliant idea, Mara,” Rob boomed as Sheldon and I walked into the newsroom.
We stopped and gave each other a quick side glance. Shel’s expression was as baffled as mine must have been.
Rob, on the other hand, looked like a boy at a ninja motocross stunt show complete with pyrotechnics. And dancing girls in spandex.
“Um, which idea would that be?” I asked, wincing.
“Mancini’s assistant just called. He said Mr. Mancini had felt a little stilted in the office setting and wanted to reschedule the interview?”
