Chapter 2: The Request
1142 Words
(Lena’s Point of View)
My name being said snapped me out of the tale I was writing. My boss stood by my space, her face white and strained. She hardly seemed scared, but now she did. She gave me the phone and the screen flashed up with a new text.
“Somebody wants to speak with you,” she whispered. “And you might not wish to see who the person is”
When I saw the name, my hands stilled above the keyboard. Adrian Cross.
For a second, I took it as a prank. Rich guys didn’t call up reporters like me. They used lawyers, mean letters, or threats with kind words. But this felt strange. The text was short and easy to read.
“Come see me. No cameras. No press. Only you.”
I stayed put, my heart banging like a drum. He wanted to see me. The guy whose firm wrecked my dad’s work long ago. The same guy I’d just shown in my new story.
My boss gave a tiny shrug. “You can skip it, Lena. But if you go, tape all.”
I said yes, then grabbed my purse. I felt fine. I should've been nervous. I just wanted to stand before the man I'd loathed for years.
The spot he picked felt still and alone. No guards, no bright lights, no cameras around. Only him, sat by the glass, in a dark suit too good for day.
Adrian Cross seemed nothing like the beast I’d dreamt up. He was so calm, too calm for me. His eyes felt cold, unfeeling, like he’d known all of me before I talked.
When I came in, he got up quick. He gazed at me once, sure and slow like he knew me.
“You made it,” he said, with ease.
I plopped down, folding my arms. “You called me here. Why on earth wouldn’t I be?”
“Because folks tend to duck meetings with the ones who spill their secrets.”
His words weren’t mad. Just keen. It bugged me out. I braced for yelling, for threats—but not this calm belief.
“I spill true facts,” I told him, voice firm. “If that ruins your good name, that’s just how it goes.”
One side of his face quirked up a tad. “You see truth as easy, don’t you?”
“I see fibs as a breeze for guys like you.”
His stare got deep, but he kept cool. He sat back, eyeing me. For a sec, I spied a weird glint ,like fun, or just nosiness.
Then he dropped, “I need some help from you.”
I nearly chuckled. “My help? You’re kidding.”
“Nope, not at all.”
I watched him, waiting it out. He didn’t blink.
“My biz has a snag,” he went on. “Your piece worsened it. Backers are scared. My folks want action.”
“So, you want me to kill the piece?” I piped up.
“Nah. I want something… loud.”
I looked puzzled. “Loud?”
He gave a slow nod. “I must fix my rep. Folks think I’m cold, cocky, untouchable. I must show them I’m not. A tale up close. One that makes me a man again.”
I got lost, till he let it out.
“I need a spouse, Lena.”
My jaw hung, but no noise came. “A spouse?”
“Not for keeps. A quick deal. Half a year. Time enough to fix the mess and hush the press.”
I gazed at him, trying to read if he was for real. His face told zip.
“You’re nuts,” I said at last.
“Maybe,” he shot back calm. “But it’s slick. You’re known to be fair. If we are seen together, folks might assume I’m new.”
Although I chuckled, but it sounded brittle and odd. “You need me,the writer who showed you,to act like I love you? Is that your grand plan?”
“Yes.”
He spoke so softly that it hushed me up once more.
I eyed his face, seeking a flaw in his firm grip. Yet there was naught. Just calm and intent.
“What do I gain from all this?” I wondered low.
His stare met mine. “Cash, if you wish. Power too. I will get your tales to any press you pick. Or” he stopped, and his tone dropped, “you may use this to seek the real truth.”
He missed it, but that last bit stung more than any jab could. The truth I sought was not his firm. It was my dad, the soul his realm wrecked.
I glanced off, feigning thought, but my brain was now a whirl. Here it was. The shot I'd longed for. To draw near. To see who he was. To get even.
Still, I sighed, “I can’t trust you now.”
“I don’t want you to, ever.”
He pushed a file over the desk. I paused before grabbing it. It held a crisp pact,stark, neat, and legal.
“Half a year,” he said. “You’ll stay with me here. We will show up in public. You'll go to work events. You will get pictures. Then, you are done.”
“Just like that, huh?”
“Just like that, yes.”
“And you think folks will buy it?”
“They wish to, even now.”
He spoke so sure that I almost took it.
I shut the file, eyeing the crisp black words. It felt dense in my grip, like a thing that may flip all.
When I turned my head to glance at him, he watched, eyes sharp. His gaze turned gentle, near human-like. That stirred a strange feeling inside.
“Are you for real," I softly inquired.
“I am.”
“But why choose me?”
“Because,” he said, inching closer, “you’re unique, seeing past my strength. You see something unique in me. It makes your take real.”
I just stayed quiet. My brain swirled with wild notions. Payback. Goals. Fairness. Maybe deep trouble.
He rose up then, placing a card right on the table. “Ponder this,” he mentioned. “But don't wait too long though. Time slips away quickly.”
I watched him exit that coffee shop, so calm, like he knew what would happen.
After he was gone the atmosphere changed . I took the card, feeling the name printed in shiny gold.
Adrian Cross.
The person I detested just gave me a shot to ruin him from the inside.
And the real crazy thing was,I wasn’t all that sure I’d turn down the offer.
- Writer
