Chapter 5 - Blake Pierce

Blake POV

“Blake, I have your first assignment,” my boss says and I smile as I stand from my cubicle after putting down the phone that connects my little office space to hers. Tara is my new editor. As soon as I got to New York, I made sure to find a job. Obviously, I didn’t look for something that would take a lot of my time, but something that would get me some money and would leave me some time to investigate The Reaper.

I found this job as a part-time writer for a wedding magazine, apparently is a very prestigious magazine and everything that I have done before helped me nail this. Obviously, I know nothing about weddings and I will have to do a lot of research and ask idiotic questions to the bride and groom, but hey, to live is to learn.

Since when I have become such a cliche? I shake my head as I stand up, grabbing my little notepad and pen before I walk to Tara’s office. I am an old school. I like to write things with my hand first, and like this, no one can hack into my things and figure out what I am doing. I know people think this is twice the work, and maybe it is, but that’s how I do things and how I feel comfortable writing.

I knock on the door and I see her hand lifting, sending me in while she’s on the phone. I can tell the conversation she is having is not pleasant but I try to distract myself so I don’t hear what she is saying, but her tone is aggressive and she is now standing up resting both her hands on her glass desk and leaning over as she speaks.

“I don’t care what they say. I want that reviewed by eight today. Don’t make me regret giving you this scoop,” she says before she presses a button on the phone and focuses her eyes on me.

“Blake, hi, I am sorry about that. Take a seat,” she says, moving her hand toward the chairs on the opposite side of her desk. She sits back down, crossing her legs, and I sit on one of the chairs with the pad resting on my knees. What can I say? I am a little nervous. Writing about something we know nothing about can be terrifying.

“How have you settled?” She asks and I smile, nodding slightly.

“Oh, well, thank you once more for the opportunity, I know you’re taking a big risk taking me in,” I let out and she waved her hand in front of her face as she moved her other hand over the desk trying to find something.

“I have a job of you, and it’s big, I know you didn’t want something that would take too much of your time, and I would cover this one myself, but unfortunately people around here like to screw around and not get things ready by the deadline, so I have to do my job and theirs,” she says and I offer her a small smile.

“Okay, whatever I can do to help,” I let out. I know she hired me because Emma contacted her. They met growing up when they were both in a girls’ house after both being kicked out of their foster parents’ houses. They bonded and became close friends after that. So they would do anything for each other.

“Have you ever heard of Wyatt Hayes?” She asks, and I shake my head. She widens her eyes and then she smiles as she passes me a newspaper. “Page six,” she says, and I nod.

I open the newspaper on page six and there it is. Wyatt Hayes and Sandrine Parisi are engaged. Parisi, that name is familiar. I scratch my head, trying to figure out where I know it from, but I can’t really pinpoint it. I hate it when this happens.

“Okay,” I let out and she taps the newspaper for me to read the engagement announcement. “Wyatt Hayes, 34, announces engagement with Sandrine Parisi, 29.” I read and then continue. “The billionaire, CEO of Hayes Enterprises, engagement comes less than one month after the couple was spotted together for the first time.” I raise one eyebrow. Weird. That is a really quick engagement.

“Is she pregnant?” I ask as I raise my eyes from the newspaper, and Emma smiles as she looks at me.

“That’s what I need you to find out, they are having their engagement party today, they had a private affair earlier, but the press was not invited, but the event today is big, and I would like for you to cover, and I would like for you to dig.” She says and I smile. That I know how to do.

“I know there’s something there, people with their kind of money don’t get engaged this fast and start organizing a wedding this fast,” she says and I nod, “besides, she hasn’t even been spotted with a ring, so rumor says she’s getting the ring today in front of the press, and I need you to use your beautiful brain to figure out what is happening there,” Tara says and I smile.

“You can count on me,” I say as I place the newspaper on the desk and start writing on my little pad. Several ideas pop into my head as to why they are getting married so fast, and none of them are for love. She’s pregnant. One of them is sick. Arranged marriage and she is being sold? All sorts of ideas pop into my head.

“Go to the dressing room, and ask them to find you something to wear, we have an entire department to dress our reporters, ask them to find you something for the occasion, and please, don’t let me down Blake, I am counting on you,” she says and I nod slightly. As I stand up, she clears her throat and I turn to look at her.

“Do your homework before you go. Get to know him. He is the press sweetheart, and he was the last single man in New York,” Tara says and I nod. I know what to do and I know I will have some fun doing this. I think I know now why she gave me the job so fast. She wants me to dig into people and find out their true reasons for getting married. She knows I will find dirt on both of them and I won’t be afraid to use it.

I walk straight back to my small cubicle and open my laptop, typing Wyatt Hayes into the search bar. Thousands of articles pop up and I open the ones I think have the most interesting title, but one thing I can’t help but notice is his eyes. One brown and one blue. It’s not every day that you see someone with different eye colors. I can’t help but notice how beautiful he is. His face looks like it was designed by an artist.

All of his features blend together perfectly and his eyes make him even more enigmatic than the rest of him. All the articles I read report the same things. How successful he is. How he made his fortune coming from nothing, but nothing about him as a person. About his personal interests, or his music taste. All they report constantly is how he was New York’s most eligible bachelor. Hummm. Interesting. A man like him who is never seen with a woman by his side doesn’t just get engaged out of the blue.

I type Sandrine Parisi and several articles about her tastes, likes, and dislikes appear. Apparently, she is one of those high society barbies. She dresses to impress and has been seen in the arms of several billionaires all around the country. The last one was a Hollywood mogul. I smile as I keep reading about the woman.

Her father is mentioned in several articles about his relations with people that are considered shady. I frown and then I remember where I know her name from. Parisi was one of the names mentioned by one of the police detectives I met when I took down Francesco Bianchi. It’s believed he was in negotiations with the leader of the Italian mafia. She has connections to the Italian Mafia, so she is my way of finding out more about The Reaper. Because let’s face it. If you’re in that world, you know all the important names and what they look like.

I rub my hands one against the other and someone clearing their throat behind me makes me jump. I feel like my heart came out flying through my mouth. I try to catch my breath as I rest one hand over my overly beating heart and look up to find Trent looking at me. His smile is wide and I have to say quite beautiful. His dark blonde hair is messy on the top of his head, while his come fuck me smile shines at me, making me close my legs tighter.

“Hey Trent, can I help you?” I ask and he nods as he pulls a chair from the empty cubicle next to mine and sits the wrong way around. Fuck me, that’s sexy. I close my laptop, resting both my hands on top while he rubs his chin.

“I was wondering what time you want to leave,” he says and I frown as I look at him. Want to leave? What?

“I’m coming with you. I’ll be the photographer. Didn’t Tara tell you?” He asks, and I shake my head as I bite my lower lip. My job has become ten times harder as he stares at me with his green eyes focusing on my lips and then back to my eyes.

After agreeing to meet outside the building at six, I look at my watch and decide it’s time to get my hair sorted before I am fitted in some sort of weird dress. I honestly don’t know what they will have for me. My body type is not exactly the same as every other girl.

I am curvy; I have a stomach and I sure as hell don’t stop myself from eating whatever I want. My thighs are thicker than other girls’ but I love my body. My hips are wide and give me an hourglass figure. I am not too tall either, which makes me look heavier than what I actually am. I never had problems finding men, but I know I am not everyone's cup of tea. I am not a model and I am not skinny and that in itself is judgement enough.

As I walk into the dressing room on the fourth floor, a woman greets me with the fakest smile I have ever seen, and I can see the judgment in her eyes. The way she looks at me from head to toe and I recoil a little. I hate being judged by my body because I am a lot more than that. I am an intelligent and accomplished woman, with several goals I have every intention to achieve.

“Tara sent me here to be fitted for Wyatt and Sandrine’s engagement party,” I say and her eyes widen as she looks at me from head to toe once more and I clear my throat as her eyes lock on mine. “I don’t need that type of attitude from you, I just need a dress,” I say and she nods as her smile disappears and she walks to the end of the corridor, and for once, I don’t know what to do.

“Are you coming, or do you intend for me to fit you in the middle of the corridor?” She says as she looks over her shoulder. I shake my head slightly and walk as fast as I can in high heels after her. Bad day to decide to wear high heels. What the fuck was I thinking?