Page 116 of The Arrogant One
I laughed.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked that you texted before nine and then requested an in-person meeting. I don’t think in all the years we’ve worked together, you’ve ever done that.”
I took a seat in front of his desk. “I haven’t. You’re right.”
His curly hair had grown since the last time I had come here, and he now wore it back in a tight ponytail, the thin gray pieces lightening the sea of black strands.
“I’m assuming you’re here because you want to talk about my request of having you travel to more of The Weston Grouplocations and reviewing them so we can do another Weston feature?”
I gradually nodded and crossed my legs, holding my knee like it was a handrail. “Yes, but not in the way you think.”
He rested his forearms on his desk. “Okay … I’m intrigued.”
I took a deep breath, thinking of the words I’d rehearsed during my drive over here, wishing I’d remembered them since they were suddenly gone from my mind. “After my article on Toro, I don’t want to review any more of The Weston Group restaurants. I’m just … not comfortable doing it.” I took in several more breaths, hoping they would loosen the tightening in my chest. “I promise to finish out my obligation, but I’m declining your offer regarding the new feature you want done on them.”
“And why is that?” He blinked several times, turning his face as though he was posing, one side being better than the other. “I’m assuming there must be a reason?”
I didn’t like the feeling that was in my body. The way I was so full of anxiety that I could even feel it in my fingertips.
I had to get this out—whether it sounded pretty or not, that didn’t matter.
“I’m in a relationship with Hart Weston.”
His eyebrows rose and didn’t come back down, even after he said, “I see.”
“Before you ask, Hart doesn’t know that I’m Dear Foodie. I wouldn’t break my NDA withSeen. I wanted to tell him—no less than a million times—but I haven’t.”
His exhale was loud and drawn out. “Tell me this: were you dating Hart Weston when you reviewed Charred?”
It killed me to nod and say, “Yes.”
His brows dropped and pushed together. “And were you dating him when you reviewed Musik?”
“Yes, but”—I held up my hand before he could sayanything—“you need to know that I was a hundred percent honest in both of those reviews.”
His head fell back, and he groaned, “Jesus Christ …”
“Please believe that Dear Foodie wrote those reviews, not Sadie. Please.” I slid forward in my chair, hovering over the edge. “You have nothing to worry about regarding either—please tell me you believe me.” I waited and got no response. “This job means everything to me. It started my career. I wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything … or anybody.”
His quietness was making me more nervous.
So much so that I felt the need to add, “I know you didn’t ask this, but I have to tell you that when I first started dating him, I had no idea he was a Weston. We met in the bar of a restaurant. I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t offer his last name or even the shortened version of his first name. He went by Lockhart, and … things escalated from there. So, I didn’t intentionally bond with a restauranteur—or anything that even looks like that.”
He leaned back in his chair, his hands going to the bottom of his chest, where his fingers linked. “What about Toro? How honest are you going to be withthatreview?” He pushed his tongue into the inside of his top lip, making it jut out and round. “You told me Charred and Musik were authentic?—”
“They were.”
“I’ve been to both numerous times, and my reviews would be very similar to everything you said in yours, so I believe you. But Toro is entirely different.”
“I … know.”
“Sadie, you have an extremely loyal following that expands far beyond Los Angeles, and you have influence that I’m not sure you even realize you possess. You’re one of the top food influencers in the country, which is whySeenis so honored to still have you on our team. But it’s going to be hard to convinceme that your boyfriend isn’t going to run through your mind when you eat at Toro and when you write the review of his restaurant.” He sat up straight, his hands returning to his desk. “A review that could, quite possibly, catapult the launch of the Westons’ new seafood venture. Or if your review isn’t positive, it could wreck their plans for future locations they intended to open.”
My hand went to my chest, pushing against my heart.
Every word he’d just said had been eating at me for weeks.
Seenexpected honesty.
