Page 83 of The Fake Dating Plan

"Naivete of a novice journalist." She clucked. "I've learned a lot since then." She tapped her phone and I could see from my vantage point the timer begin. "Don't worry about that," she said, and I looked up, "I try to ignore it if you can."

Harder said than done. But I put up the pretense of not paying attention to her phone. She began her interview by asking me about my work and what we had done so far. They were all softball questions, and I appreciated the time she gave me to respond. In addition to recording our conversation, she took notes as well. What she wrote in there made me curious. Was she recording my mannerisms? Making sure she won't leave out anything odd about me she spots?

She jumped off from asking me about the business and said, "You've been in the news recently."

"I don't think I can call being a trending topic news, but sure."

She laughs. "Ax said the same thing to me once."

"You've interviewed him before?"

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes coy, "Between me and you, Ax and I were more than just interviewer and interviewee."

I couldn't help my eyebrows peaking. I looked at her closely for the second time. She was his usual type; I noticed. Blond, tall, and overall good-looking. That tiny knob of jealousy lodged in my throat again, as if I should care about who he dated. I would be jealous of every woman in California and New York at this rate.

"Interesting," I said.

"Not that it has any bearing on this interview, of course. I just wanted everything to be transparent."

"Of course. I would never assume you'd be anything but professional."

She seemed genuinely taken by this. "Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “But would you say the same would be said about you?”

So she didn't extend the same courtesy given to her. I straightened, subconsciously putting my defenses up. "Yes," I said, making sure none of the bitterness I was feeling at the sudden turn of the interview was detectable from my tone, "I would actually."

She leaned back and scribbled in her notebook. I dearly wanted to know what it was.

"KMVH rarely invests in start-ups. What made them do so now, do you think?" Her question sounded like one veering away from the previous topic, but even I was well-versed to know that it was a roundabout way of her reaching the point.

"I don't know about KMVH's investment strategies or their portfolio. You might have to ask them yourself."

"Right. Would you say that your previous relationship with Axel Reid did not affect his investing in your company?" There it is. The moment we've all been dancing around the entire interview.

"Again," I crossed my arms, "You'll have to ask Axel Reid himself. He might have more insight into his feelings than I."

She smirked, but ultimately said nothing except to scribble again into her notebook.

"What about your relationship with him now? Would you say it's more intimate than simply business associates? I mean, to address the elephant in the room here, and frankly the reason this piece will have any legs at all, would you say what they're saying in the papers, true?"

I could feel the interview slipping away from me. Whatever I was saying or could say next was doing nothing to appease her thirst for a scoop. "I don't follow gossip and frankly I don't think a talented journalist such as you should too."

"Not even the pictures of the two of you kissing?"

I could blame it on Photoshop, but that would be too insulting, even to Maggie Wilson. I went another route instead. "Pictures don't tell the entire story."

This time, it was my turn to surprise her.

"Are you saying you two aren't seeing each other in any capacity?"

"Only as business partners." At least that much was true. We were no longer seeing each other.

"Right." She nodded and scribbled some more into her notebook. Longer notes this time, and when she was done she said, "I think that will be it." She took her phone off the desk and slipped it into her purse. "Thank you for your time." I stood up at the same time as she did. "It was my pleasure."

I walked her out of the building and when I came back; I rushed into my office feeling like I had just made one of the worst mistakes of my career.

“Adeline!”

My assistant jolted from her seat and followed me inside my office, trying to keep up with my brisk pace. When I sat down, she stood holding firmly her iPad and pen, ready to jot down whatever I might say.

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