Chapter 4 #2
As much as I hate to admit it, Adam was right. About everything. Though the spark wasn’t forgotten, it isn’t the main thing on people’s tongues. Apparently, getting caught in a fountain saving a woman’s life—for the second time that day—is enough to paint me as a predator.
I now understand why Staines was so defensive, but the thought that he believes something of that caliber about me so easily is downright insulting. We don’t know each other personally, but I thought it was obvious that the person they’ve painted me as is far from my character.
Not once in my years in the public eye have I been photographed with a woman…Well, that was true until yesterday. And while I’ve been on dates, and the occasional setup by my mother, I made sure nothing ever got out.
I tried my hardest to keep my private life private and to keep engineering at the forefront of my image. Now, that lack of information is being twisted as proof that I’ve been hiding this so-called secret all along.
It’s all so stupid, and the last thing I need is Melanie scolding me on how I should have listened to her.
“What do you want?” I snap.
I’ve been a bitch to anyone who’s tried talking to me today, but what do they expect when everything I’ve worked for is crumbling before my eyes?
“You need me,” Melanie states with the utmost confidence.
“I need this problem fixed.” I let out a scoff, prompting her to smile a tad wider.
“And that’s where I come in.” She turns her laptop toward me, revealing a slideshow titled Why You Should Make Me Your PR Agent. The theme is flowery, pink, and oh-so feminine, which quickly has me making up my mind about the proposition.
“No,” I say.
Melanie clearly isn’t ready to give up when she changes the screen to the next slide.
I have a Master’s in Public Relations from NYU.
I meet her dead in the eyes, wildly unimpressed. I’ve known this information and don’t need the reminder. My unwillingness to participate in her little game doesn’t deter her, though. She presses the arrow on her computer, beaming like she’s already won.
Hiring a PR firm will cost you money that would be better used toward developing your technologies. I’m already working here, so I’d be doing the job at no extra cost.
"What do you get out of this?” I ask, trying not to sound annoyed.
Melanie smiles, clicking the next button.
It’ll pad up my resume so I can find a job at a real PR firm. I’ll no longer be doing random tasks around the company, and you’ll never have to deal with me ever again.
I sit up straighter as the information sinks in. The latter sounds like a dream, but the first part isn’t the worst of ideas. She needs the experience, and I need this ordeal fixed quickly.
Taking my silence as confirmation, Melanie abandons her presentation and leans back in her chair, hands resting on the arms as she crosses one leg over the other.
“Long story short, everyone hates you because chasing younger girls is a big fat no. I don’t understand why they’re running with that story when that girl doesn’t look a day under twenty-five, but that’s the lovely thing about social media—none of it has to make sense.
People jump to conclusions and on bandwagons without a second thought. ”
I roll my eyes in annoyance.
Clearly.
“Either way, I’ve already tried paying off the news outlets, but they’ve refused payment on all accounts.”
My finger taps rhythmically against my wooden desk.
It would be pricey, but it isn’t the worst idea. Definitely a good start for damage control.
“Did you give them a competitive price?” I ask.
“Of course. I offered them hundreds of thousands of dollars, but they wouldn’t budge.”
My eyes bulge out of their sockets at her confession.
Archer Aviation has the funds and resources, but they aren’t allocated to getting the CEO out of uncalled-for controversies. Though I guess we wouldn’t have much of a company—or resources—if this trend in my reputation continues.
Fuck. Think, Nate. What else could we possibly do?
“Announce to the world your engagement to the woman in the photo.”
A heavy cough erupts as I choke on my own saliva, a sound that turns increasingly more violent as I lose my ability to breathe. You’d think the woman would come my way—pat my back, give me the Heimlich, something—but she sits there, smile unwavering until it comes to a stop.
“Have you gone mad?”
“It’ll change the narrative from luring in younger girls to one of true love. And everyone loves a love story.”
Oh, she’s gone mad.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Not today. Not tomorrow. And definitely not when pigs fly.
I could probably make pigs fly, though.
“It’s the only way. Plus, it has a one-hundred-percent success rate.”
“And where have you seen this in action?”
“Pretty often in the books.” Now, this is ridiculous. “Lennie Woods’s latest novel was a fake engagement story where both characters got what they wanted in the end.”
I blink twice, my disbelief knowing no bounds.
“Think about how many celebrities get into PR relationships for the sake of appearances. It really isn’t as uncommon as you think.”
The tapping of my finger grows faster, the gears in my head turning in a direction I don’t want them to go in. As absurd as it sounds, Melanie’s book thing may not be so far off. Fiction does usually stem from some aspects of real life, so…
Fuck, why am I considering this?
I’m desperate, not crazy.
I’m desperate, not crazy.
I’ll have to repeat that to myself a lot more because I’m not sure how much I believe it.
“Let’s say we go along with this plan. Why would Vivienne ever agree to such a thing?”
Something mischievous crosses her expression. “Very good question. I can easily find that out.”
They’re her last words spoken before the assault on her laptop begins. The clicks and clacks of her keys increase at an exponential rate before she falls back with a satisfied smile.
“Oh, this will get her for sure.”
I’m uncertain of what she could have found in those short three minutes, but she doesn’t divulge the information. She stays put and quiet.
“What is it?” I ask, curiosity eating away at me when she doesn’t fess up on her own.
Melanie rolls her eyes in annoyance. “You’re not going to ask how I found this engagement-worthy information?”
My gaze wanders around the room in genuine confusion. Am I supposed to? By the nudging of her hand, she’s expecting it.
“Please, Melanie, enlighten me on how you got this engagement-worthy information?” I ask with deep reluctance.
“Crush-stalking skills finally put to good use!” Melanie slams her fist on the table, causing everything on it to shake.
“Instagram. LinkedIn. Their mom’s Facebook.
The works. Who knew it would come in so handy?
” She sighs, falling back into her seat with a satisfied smile. “Tell me I deserve a pat on the back.”
“You deserve to be checked into a mental asylum.”
Melanie quirks a brow like none of what I said actually offends her. And when she tells me the reason Vivienne might accept this deal, I realize I’ll be walking right behind her at check-in.
No person in their right mind should genuinely consider this, yet here I am, already plotting how to convince her otherwise.