Chapter 3: The Trap

My new boss stared at me with an intensity that made my insides go all twisty. I couldn't tell whether the way he slightly narrowed his eyes meant he was intrigued or merely shocked that I, a lowly staff writer, dared to address him that way. Mr. Sexy Mogul was probably used to people like me groveling at his feet. I held my breath, expecting him to throw me out without another word.

When he finally spoke, though, his voice was as calm as it had been a moment before. And there was a spark of something in his eyes that looked almost like humor.

"Emilia Torres might be a popular actress," he said, "but frankly, this magazine can do better."

I'm pretty sure I gaped at him. "Better?" I couldn't believe it. Emilia Torres is all anyone is talking about now. Her latest film, Cataclysm: Earth, has a larger budget than any movie in Hollywood's history - and costars Luca Fontaine, her former/ongoing/future flame and the highest-paid action star in the biz. The two have been fixtures in the tabloids for months - whether they're "on," whether they're "off," whether Emilia was spotted with a potential baby bump, whether Luca was seen with a mysterious brunette on his arm... it doesn't matter. The public eats it up. The issues fly off the racks.

"Tell me," Roman Everet said, spreading his hands, "when was the last time you saw Emilia on the cover of a celebrity news magazine?"

That had to be a trick question.

"Last week," I told him. "And the week before that. And every week this summer. Because her face sells magazines."

"No, her face does not sell magazines." His gaze was intense now, as if we'd entered some sort of interrogation. "Tell me, when was the first time you saw her face on a magazine?"

That was an even more perplexing question.

"I - I don't know," I said, uncertain. "A year ago? When she was cast in Cataclysm: Earth?"

"And is that cover-making news around here? When a B-list actress is cast in an A-list movie?"

"I wouldn't consider her a B-list actress," I countered.

He raised his eyebrow. "Not anymore. But she was most definitely B-list back then. Possibly C-list, depending on who you ask. But when did that change? I'll give you a hint - it wasn't when she was cast."

The way his eyes bored into me made me want to shrink back into my chair. But I wasn't about to let him beat me. Not when he was taking away my job. I straightened my shoulders. If I was going down, then I was going to do so with a fight. And I was not about to let him convince me that I didn't know what I was talking about.

"She became A-list news when she started dating Luca Fontaine, her A-list costar," I said. "She strengthened her position on the list when she and Luca broke up. And she cemented it when they got back together again."

He nodded, though his gaze didn't lessen in intensity. "Very good. You see my point then."

Frankly, I did not see his point at all, and my silence must have told him as much.

"Emilia isn't news on her own," he said slowly, as if explaining things to a child.

Ah.

"She's news because of Luca Fontaine," I said. Not only is Luca a huge star, but he's a Fontaine, and that name carries a lot of weight in Hollywood.

Another nod. "And how many times has Luca Fontaine given an interview in the past, oh, six months?"

I had to think about that. Because of my job, I make an effort to skim through every celebrity news magazine each week and to keep up with all of the biggest gossip blogs. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember anyone posting anything more than an occasional sound bite from Luca himself.

Apparently Mr. Everet could see the wheels turning in my brain, because slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up in the semblance of a smile, though his eyes remained as sharply appraising as they'd been the entire conversation.

"Emilia has been quite eager to speak with the press every step of the way," he said. "When she and Luca are together, she goes out of her way to talk about how much she loves him, to gush about the way he treats her, to make the whole world believe they're the perfect couple. When they break up, she's just as eager to discuss the drama. I'm sure that's what you discovered during your chat with her?"

He was right, of course. When I asked her about rumors that she and Luca had broken up again, she claimed that she wanted to keep the details of her love life private - but she threw out so many not-so-subtle hints about the matter that anyone with half a brain could have pieced together the story. She even warned me to watch out if I ever met him in person - apparently, Luca has a "weakness for dark-haired women." The whole thing is perfectly calculated, of course. I'm not that naive, and I've been studying this industry my entire life. I'm not sure how much of Emilia and Luca's relationship is real and how much is manufactured to keep the attention of the press and public on their movie. And honestly, it doesn't matter. It's all part of the game, and real or fabricated, it still sells magazines and gets tens of thousands of website clicks.

That wasn't Roman Everet's point, though.

"I'm sure Emilia was eager to take the active role in this whole performance," he said. "It's simpler if only one of them is talking to the press, and Luca has a reputation for avoiding interviews. But by now everyone's heard Emilia's side of the story. I could probably write the answers to her next interview myself."

His condescension was starting to get to me again.

"Predictable or not, those answers still sell magazines," I reminded him. "I don't care if we've heard them a hundred times before. People still want to read them."

He looked almost amused by the fact that I'd dared to challenge him. Suddenly he stood up.

"My point isn't that they don't get sales or clicks right now," he replied simply, moving slowly but deliberately around the table. "It's that sometime in the near future they will get stale, and people will be tired of hearing Emilia talk about Luca. And we shouldn't wait until that point to seek out a bigger story. We should be working on that today. We don't want to follow the trends or the sales or the clicks. We want to make them."

His words were like a punch right to my gut. If that was what he was looking for, then no amount of arguing my case was going to save my job. I'd thought I'd hit the big time by snagging that Emilia interview. He was talking about something in another stratosphere.

"You understand, then?" he said, moving toward the door.

Yes, unfortunately, and even his sexy chiseled jaw and broad shoulders didn't keep me from wanting to kick him.

I knew that was my cue to get up. To go back to my desk and pack up my things and leave the office for the last time ever. To revamp my resume and start chasing that next dream job. Mr. Everet's hand was already on the door handle, his body half-turned toward mine, ready to usher me out. But the anger and desperation were still alive inside of me. And instead of moving, I heard myself say, "What if I can get that bigger story?"

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and his hand froze on the door. After a second, that amusement that had been teasing at his lips spread into something deeper.

"What exactly are you proposing?" he said, and it was clear by his tone he was only asking me for his own entertainment.

I wasn't sure. Honestly, I think I was hallucinating a little. So I said the first logical thing that popped into my mind.

"An interview with Luca Fontaine," I told him.

Now he gave me a true smile - but the sort of smile a cat gives its prey when it decides to play with it for a little while before devouring it whole. The kind of wicked smile that probably got him between his fair share of women's legs - it would certainly have done all sorts of twisted things to my insides under different circumstances.

And I realized I'd walked right into a trap.