2. Delilah
Delilah
Being a journalist had put me in many stressful situations.
Adrian Vale probably thought that he was controlling me in that moment, even if only indirectly. I had no doubt that other women had succumbed to his charm, especially those who had come for one weekend or only wanted one thing.
And truth be told, I understood why. He was a very handsome man, with a well-groomed beard, hard brown eyes, a square jawline, and impeccable dress.
He had diamond cufflinks that others said gave him the nickname “King of Diamonds,” and while I didn’t care for the nickname—we had no kings in this city—they weren’t ostentatious or ugly.
But being a journalist had made me very good as well at understanding “two things can be true at once.”
Adrian Vale was a very handsome and charming man… who was also trying to control media coverage of him and his family, and anyone who sought that much power over the press automatically deserved more scrutiny than otherwise.
Adrian Vale was trying to fuck me, and I was happy to string him along…
for the entire purpose of getting more information out of him without giving up my personal agency.
Adrian was, admittedly, the kind of man I was attracted to—fearlessly confident, sure in who he was, and willing to do whatever it took to get his way.
But it went without saying that personal relationships with figures of interest were a massive no-no; that had never been a problem for me before, and I wasn’t about to start now.
Even though, wow, he really did look good, smell good, and act in an incredibly persuasive manner.
And finally, Adrian was very willing to help me write good puff pieces about his family and destructive pieces about the Morril family…
which I was willing to do, albeit not for the reasons he wanted.
My game was a game for truth, not for power; if those two happened to overlap as they were now, then both sides could organically win.
“That’s cute,” I said, taking a step back. “But the only person who controls me is myself. If you wish to control what you say to me, then I respect and understand that. If you wish to control your access to me, I respect and understand that. But to control me? Please. Save your breath.”
Adrian smiled. God, OK, yes, he had a fucking great smile.
I would not break, and I certainly would not break in public.
But that smile was somehow incredibly seductive without being sleazy, sexual without being sketchy.
I don’t know how he did it—maybe he was just a product of his good circumstances—but, fuck, it took some willpower to resist.
“You are very good at your job, Delilah,” he said. “Unlike your boss, who speaks as if he inhaled helium and is as attractive as a wet blanket.”
“My boss does his job well,” I said, though I was well aware I hadn’t denied anything Adrian had said. “And my job, as tasked by him, was to come here to get firsthand quotes on the family running this auction tonight, both to cover the event and as part of a broader picture.”
Adrian put his hands up in mock deference, as if pretending to apologize for pushing things too hard. Of course he wasn’t really apologetic; even caught red-handed, men of power rarely were.
“But of course, that’s a reasonable request,” he said. “Perhaps, then, it might be better if we make an arrangement rather than wrestle for control.”
“Indeed, I think it might,” I said, fully aware that “an arrangement” was just a thinly veiled wrestle for control.
Truthfully, I could have just gone straight to Sarah, called her an anonymous source, and gotten everything I could have possibly needed.
It was odd, really, having one of my closest friends be engaged to one of the Vales.
I knew that in her case, it was the special circumstance of having dated before, making her one of the few people not intimidated by their wealth and power, but still.
Picturing me with Adrian was… weird. Appealing in some twisted, strange way, but overall still so weird that I could not wrap my head around it.
I think I would rather have moved jobs to Los Angeles or even someplace like Reno or Seattle than wind up dating or engaged to one of my subjects of interest.
“Here is what I propose,” he said. “I will give you full access to me at any point and arrange access to my brothers as I can. You understand that, as you say, I can control how I make myself available, but I cannot control them.”
“Nor would I want you to,” I said. I almost wished I hadn’t given Adrian’s raising of his eyebrows, but too late.
“And in return,” he said, “I want you to find the thing that brings down the Morril family. I don’t care if it’s that one of them goes to AA meetings, if it’s that one of them snorts cocaine on weekends, or that one of them got suspended from middle school for fighting.
They’re inconsequential, but they’re a growing inconsequential thorn.
I’d rather not fight dirty. I’d rather just play dirty. ”
I was really disliking my own body right now. Everything Adrian said should not have affected me; had it come from anyone else, it wouldn’t have. I was still professional enough not to show it, but that instinct to shiver and feel excited at the way Adrian phrased things was not good.
“You are fortunate enough that any family that obtains the power they have,” I said, letting the words hang.
The Morrils weren’t the only family here that met this criteria.
“The power they have has probably cracked a few eggshells along the way. It’s worth remembering, though, that my allegiance, as you will hear me say many times—”
“—is to the truth, yeah, yeah,” Adrian said. “There’s truth everywhere. But what truth do you look at, Delilah? Are you going to look at this truth or that truth? The truth of the Morrils or the truth of some other family? The truth of what you need to do versus what you want to do?”
“Enough,” I said, cutting myself off as much as I was him. “You have yourself a deal.”
Foolish? Maybe. Adrian would be very good at framing answers as he wanted and saying only what he wanted to.
But unlimited access to one of the richest men in Vegas?
You never said no to that. All it took in the hours and hours of speaking of him was one slip, one great quote to slam a story home.
Whether that was on the Morril family, his own empire, or something else, it just depended on what truth I chose to focus on.
“But,” I added. I had to remind Adrian that he didn’t get to set all the rules. “This is a professional deal, Adrian. I can already tell you’re trying to charm me. For what reasons, I can guess at, but for the sake of being polite in good company, I will refrain from explicitly defining.”
For a lot of men, that would have put them on the defensive. Adrian was not like most men.
“That means that if we talk after sunset, we do so for business, not personal matters. I also make no promises that I will write only good things about you. I’ve already investigated this auction, and everything seems aboveboard.
But the more I learn about you, the more leads I get, the more I will have to study the underbelly of the Vale family. ”
It was a threat that had less weight behind it than Adrian probably realized. The Vales had been around far longer than the Morrils, and anything negative that could be written about them largely already had. Ruthless, assholes, technically legal but ethically dubious at times…
But one other lesson I’d long ago learned in journalism was that the best stories were often the most hidden. No one I knew of had unlimited access to a Vale; that was bound to turn up a story no one else had written about.
I just hoped that said story was one only about Adrian Vale or only about the Vale family. I did not want to become a part of his story in any way beyond covering it.
With this man, that was going to be a bit of a challenge.
“I think that’s completely reasonable,” Adrian said. “Will you shake on it now?”
He extended his hand. It was thick, calloused, and well built just from looking at it.
All men of Adrian’s ilk knew better than to hug a journalist or kiss them on the cheek.
But some—like him, I suspected—knew that a handshake done right could be just as seductive, even more so, than an awkward hug.
They also knew that a handshake wasn’t something refused; it was superficially professional and polite enough that it could not be ignored, yet done right…
Why was I overthinking this?
I extended my hand and shook. His grip was firm, but not deliberately overpowering.
I worried less about the grip and more about the hair going up on my arm and how I felt a strange warmth akin to the high school desires I’d had.
I wasn’t sure if Adrian noticed, but the fact that he had something of a wicked smile as he pulled back wasn’t exactly encouraging to me.
“I think this is the start of something wonderful, Delilah,” he said. “Would you care to interview me now?”
“Ye-yes,” I said. I pulled my hand back, but Adrian held it for just a beat longer. Not so long that it couldn’t be mistaken for an accidental miscommunication, but I had a feeling Adrian did nothing by accident.
I had my phone recording the conversation thereafter, and it was like a switch got flipped.
Adrian knew how to answer my questions about the auction in a polite, warm, yet professional manner.
Some famous figureheads had an annoying ability to sound like they were telling you so much without actually revealing anything, and Adrian definitely fit that bill.
At the moment, it felt like he was sharing some deeply personal story about how the auction meant so much to him; in reality, it was a “safe” kind of deep, where no one would ever pick it apart or accuse him of sharing too much.
It was the kind of thing corporate boards loved to hear because it was unassailable good press.
There were still some good quotes in there, especially about how Cassius and Sarah would make for a potent combination for the future of Allure.
I kept my friendship with Sarah out of it as I thought through, but there wasn’t anything to really worry about.
At the risk of sounding mean, none of my friends were famous or big enough to be worth covering in a news story.
Finally, the story ended, I turned the recording off, and Adrian did something that raised the hair on me once more.
He put his hand on the back of my shoulder, gently turned me to the entrance, and pointed out Dante.
“Would you like to get to know a certain Vale better?” he said.
His hand position was aggressive, but not harassing or inappropriate; he had not touched my ass or even the small of my back.
But there was no mistaking what kind of a touch it was—a touch that said he would ramp up over time, and at some point, if he had his way, his hands wouldn’t just be touching me.
They’d be grabbing me, maybe even doing more than that.
Fanciful. Even a hint of erotic.
But I brushed the hand off.
“I will go and speak to him on my own time, Adrian,” I said. “And please do not touch me. I am a journalist, not your date.”
I was surprised at how the words felt bitter in my mouth. Even Adrian seemed surprised, taking a half-step back. But just as quickly, he recovered, giving a short head nod.
“But of course, I will respect your boundaries,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Delilah. I am sure you will be coming for me again.”
Did he say… for me?
No, it wasn’t sexual. But it had to be intentional, I thought. He could have just as easily said, “to me again.” It still worked in the professional sense, but…
Dante smirked at me. I nodded, more easily able to brush him off, and began pacing the room. Not because I had a particular interview target in mind, not even because I had particular notes I wanted to make, but just because I needed to get my senses back.
Somehow, Adrian had sent my head spinning in a way no other subject had done. Already, I was violating a rule about getting too close to the journalistic piece in question.
And somehow, a part of me was not only not upset, it seemed to be downright delighted about it.