5. Adrian
Adrian
Three days passed without my saying a word to Delilah.
It wasn’t because I believed in some juvenile nonsense about the three-day rule to contact someone attractive.
If I got what I wanted, it was the “no-day rule,” as in, there’d be no day I’d contact them.
If I hadn’t gotten what I wanted, there were no rules, I just called them when I wanted and made things happen.
It was because I had a fucking casino empire to run, and no woman was more valuable than that.
It was an axiom that Cassius seemed to have forgotten now that he was with Sarah. Oh, credit where credit was due, I suppose. The man did continue to work as CEO. He did attend all the meetings requested, and he worked late hours some nights.
But guess what?
We didn’t get to where we were by simply doing enough for the credit. We didn’t become billionaires by doing only what was expected of us. And if we really wanted to reach the pinnacle of where we wanted to go, we had to work even harder.
I’d even said as much to Cassius at one point at his penthouse the other day. His response?
“Don’t be envious. It’s unbecoming of a Vale.”
Envious.
Fucking envious?
What was there to envy about Cassius’ situation?
I suppose there was something to be said about never having to put in effort to get ass. The game did get tiresome on occasion, and I would never pretend it was all sunshine and rainbows. But seriously, envious?
Well, in any case, I put the thought to the side and threw myself at work. An email about the Morrils trying to poach our ground-level talent had been enough to remind me that they needed to be destroyed, and it brought me to the evening of the third day.
A Sunday, yes, but the nice thing about Delilah was I knew she was like me in one respect. Days of the week didn’t mean anything for us; if the business needed a task done or if a source needed a phone call, and it could only happen on a Sunday, guess when it was happening?
I was sitting in my office, an admittedly ostentatious tribute to the journey we’d taken to get this far.
Technically, Cassius had a larger office one door down from me, but he spent most of his time in the penthouse anyway.
I had diamonds on display that I’d purchased when I made my first million dollars, my first one hundred million dollars, and my first one billion dollars; they were impossible to miss to anyone walking in, square at the front of my desk, each one propped up just slightly higher than the other.
There were the other things, of course; the ten-thousand-dollar desk, the five-thousand-dollar executive chair, the windows overlooking the Las Vegas Strip, photos of me with major celebrities and politicians.
What could I say? The King of Diamonds loved the high life.
But I had also set it up this way on purpose to me, a reminder of what I had to lose if I fucked this business up.
I called Delilah and got annoyed when it went to the third ring without an answer. Motherfucker, did she know who I was? Did she—
“This is Delilah from the Las Vegas Times.”
Much better. And, somehow, her voice sounded just as sexy on the phone as it did in person.
“Miss Delilah Reyes,” I said in the smoothest voice I could, “do you know who this is?”
“Only one person would call me like that and have the arrogance to introduce themselves like that. Yes, Adrian, I know it’s you.”
I got a laugh out of that. Oh, the fearless kind! I hadn’t been called arrogant to my face by someone not in my immediate family in… I didn’t know, years for sure.
“You know it’s me,” I said. “Yes, I suppose it might be a little arrogant. But can you forgive me?”
“I can forgive you,” Delilah said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t call it like I see it. You won’t intimidate me.”
She might as well have raised a red flag in front of a bull that had been poked and prodded and fucking pissed off for hours on end. I wouldn’t intimidate her?
But, see, Dante was the real pissed-off bull, the one who would go crashing around like he was in a china shop.
I was also a bull, but my charging would be more subtle, more abstract.
The King of Diamonds knew how to make good press and get good attention; he just did so with the rage and fury of said bull.
“That would never be my goal, Miss Reyes,” I said. “I simply wish to convey the story that I know to be the truth to a beautiful journalist I know I can trust to accurately report the truth.”
“Hmm,” Delilah murmured on the other end of the line. “What are you calling about, Adrian?”
So.
She had not outright scolded me for the “beautiful” comment. Interesting. Many would have thanked me or scolded me before folding. To have no response?
That told me it had hit her, she had heard it, but she would not give me the satisfaction of a reaction. Too bad for her, no reaction was a reaction in itself, and in some ways the most satisfying one of all.
“I would like to provide further context for the Allure fundraiser,” I said. “And I would like you to listen carefully. This will all be on the record.”
“Of course.”
I proceeded to lay out well-thought out quotes that I knew were strong enough to carry an article, subtle enough to paint the Morrils in a bad light without being foolish, yet not so flowery as to be obviously contrived in our favor.
The only issue with this was that it just wasn’t as fun to torment Delilah by being a good little source for her work.
But like the bull who knew how to channel his energy in a more effective, underhanded manner, I knew I had to present a pretty on-face record.
That’s where countless rich people fucked up; they thought they could publicly bully their way into a positive image, but the harder you tried to curate your public image, the worse you looked.
You had to finagle it, massage it, fucking be tender to get it.
Luckily, journalists didn’t always operate on the record.
“Did you have any other questions for me, Miss Reyes?”
“I think that covers it,” Delilah said before speeding up her words, “and I thank you for your time, Adrian, you have a good evening.”
“Woah, woah, woah,” I said. Someone else dictating how our time would be spent together? Not a fucking chance. “You haven’t even asked if there’s anything I wish to say off the record. Surely, you can use such information to color your piece, even if it cannot be said explicitly, no?”
Delilah sighed. It was a knowing sigh, but I swore there was also a hint of curiosity in the exhale. Like, “Shit, I don’t really want to do this… but I have to know.” I knew the sigh well.
It was the first step in bringing Delilah Reyes under my charm and into my bed.
“Do you wish to say anything off the record?” Delilah said dryly. Too dryly.
It opened up a window, but it also reminded me that anything I said here wouldn’t be nearly as effective as an in-person session. I could pull out a few charms, but I had to save my best for in-person.
“I’m most curious, Delilah,” I said, “for what you think of this situation. What you’ll really think. Not what you will write about, we all know there are rules to that. I want to know what you truly see with the Morrils and the Vales… and with me.”
Silence followed. God, how I wished I could have seen her reaction when I dropped my voice and said, “and with me.” There were a million ways she could take it, but I was ready for pretty much all of them. Take batting practice enough, and there’s not a single pitch coming that surprises you.
“I see two families bickering for power in the same way any rivals have,” Delilah said.
“Uh huh,” I said. “That answers one part of my question.”
Delilah swallowed. I could hear it through the phone.
“I see a man who wants to control everything, who wants to control the public image of his empire, and frankly is much more adept at it than the vast majority, the Morrils included. I bet that strokes your ego.”
“It’s a fact, but a pleasing one,” I said. “What are some other parts that might be fact but are pleasing?”
A silence fell. A bit too long of one, as if Delilah was contemplating deflecting the question.
“Allow me to speak to what I consider to be pleasing facts,” I said, taking charge.
“I find you to be an extremely intelligent and fearless journalist, which in theory should make you like others but in reality separates you from the rest. I find you to be greatly intriguing to me, Delilah. I know what your mission is with attending Allure and writing articles about the two families. But I want to know more about you.”
“This is strictly professional,” she said, but it was spoken weakly, as if a default response.
“Of course,” I lied reassuringly. “I’m simply trying to build a relationship. Is that not what a good journalist does?”
I smiled so wide. I loved when things got to this stage.
When the charm would rise, the tension would build, but the execution hadn’t quite come into play—not even close.
In some ways, the chase with charm was just as much of a rush as sex.
In other ways, of course not, but goodness, the rush of seeing denial turn into interest was unbelievably erotic.
“There is no denying, Adrian, that you are very charismatic,” she said.
She didn’t add anything else, but I knew in the back of her mind there was a “but.” But…
he can’t be trusted. But… he will leave you out to dry.
But… you’re not Sarah and he’s not Cassius.
I kept my mouth shut. I’d learned long ago that when you had a woman having an internal shift, something to take her from defiant to curious, the best thing you could say was nothing at all.
You’d have to speak eventually, of course, but why force things?
“But,” she finally said. “Remember the nature of our relationship and our work. I have a very pressure-packed job, and I have no room for mistakes.”
I eyed the diamonds on my desk. This seemed as good a moment as any to bring out one of my favorite facts, something that wowed most women or at least made them aware of how smart I was.
“Do you know how diamonds are formed, Delilah?” I said.
“I have an idea about it.”
“Allow me to refresh your memory. With immense pressure, high heat—almost a spicy level of heat, you could say—and a long, drawn-out process that morphs raw carbon into something unbelievably brilliant and valuable.”
I let the words sit for just a moment—not too long, lest Delilah reject them—but long enough that every single one of those words settled in.
“The work that you are doing will get the best results if you let yourself embrace the immense pressure, the high heat, and the long, drawn-out process. Of course, you might slip up here and there. Diamonds in the rough, you know? But that doesn’t mean you exit because it’s too hot.”
More silence followed. I could all but hear the gears turning in Delilah’s head. God, what I would have given to know all of her internal thoughts. I had zero doubt that she was at least open-minded to this whole ordeal.
But would she make it fun and put up a fight? Or fold sooner than expected?
“I am not raw material for you, Adrian,” she said.
“I respect the work you have done and understand the intensity of both of our jobs. But I am not yours to mold. I am simply a journalist doing my job. You are a businessman doing yours. To whatever extent our paths cross, it will not be with the purpose of manipulating or forming each other.”
I smirked.
“Of course,” I said.
Inside, I was dancing with joy. If all you did was read Delilah’s words on a transcription, you’d think there was no chance of anything ever happening.
But if you were on the phone with me, if you were listening to that tone of voice, if you heard the slight hesitations, the moments of accentuation and stumbling…
Well, let’s just say it felt urgent that our next interview take place in person. But to posit that too directly would risk, indeed, rushing the process of making my own little diamond.
After all, I wanted my Queen of Diamonds, not some Five of Diamonds. I would have only the best.
“But I am curious what kind of pressure formed you, the so-called and self-named King of Diamonds.”
“What did you say?” I growled, shaken from the delight of my thoughts.
“You asked me what motivates me. But I’m not the subject of the story. I’m not even a character in the story. I’m just an observer who writes about the story. You are, at the very least, one of the main characters if not the main character.”
“Well, Delilah…”
I caught myself. I almost said she would be my main character, but damn, that would have been a mistake. Impressive, really, that Delilah almost got me to crack. I guess she really was fucking good at her job.
This would be fun.
“Hours in the office, countless come-to-Jesus meetings with my brothers—”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Delilah said. “I don’t want cliché business answers. I want to know you, Adrian Vale. Not you, Adrian Vale, CFO and billionaire. I want to know you, period.”
Interesting.
No one had ever asked me a question like that. I really didn’t know how to respond. It was almost uncomfortable, yet strangely touching in a way that I didn’t want to admit.
I took several seconds to answer.
“I… would need several more hours to answer that,” I said. I wasn’t trying to set up something. I was serious. I hadn’t done that kind of internal reflection; I never had time to.
“Well, we’ll have plenty more interviews to do so,” Delilah said, switching back to professional mode. Fuck, she wasn’t just good. She was one of the best.
No, the best.
And it sure didn’t hurt that she was one of the sexiest women I’d ever seen.
Now is it going to hurt if you get yourself burned with this?
“In that case,” I said, gradually regaining my footing. “You let me know when our next interview is. And come to my office when you do so. I think you’ll learn more in person.”
“I think both of us will,” Delilah said. “You have a great night, Adrian.”
She hung up before I could say anything more; the game ended on her terms, not mine. Well, not the game, but tonight’s session of the game. Still.
Wow.
Fucking Delilah Reyes.
It was one thing to withstand my pressure and my game. That only made me work harder and smarter, to both of our benefit, but it wasn’t the first time someone had been able to stave off my best first pass.
But to turn it on me? To make me feel like the one under pressure and heat?
How very interesting a twist.
How very interesting a spark.
How very interesting things were becoming.