Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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Monday rolls around, and as much as I hate to admit it, I can't stop thinking about him—and that ridiculous warning of his. I printed out my story, fingers crossed it's good enough to impress the boss. I wrote about his so-called charming personality, his home life, and why he's been dodging interviews like they're the plague. Plus, I added the pictures I took on Friday, which, let's be real, are the real star of the show.
So, I walked out of his place and never heard from him again? Big deal. Doesn't mean I can't run with the story. This was the plan all along, and I'm not about to let Mr. Mysterious change that.
Just as I'm gathering the freshly printed pages, Eva strolls into the copy room and jabs my arm. "So, how was Friday? I totally forgot to ask you," she says, craning her neck to peek at what I'm printing.
"Um, it was fine... weird, but fine," I say, trying to keep the blush from creeping up my neck.
"Tell me everything!" she exclaims, eyes wide with curiosity.
I chuckle nervously, trying to brush it off. How do I explain that the guy practically devoured me and left me questioning every life choice I've ever made? "He's... intimidating. Really hard to get information out of him," I say, desperately avoiding her gaze.
"But you managed to do it!" she yells, way too enthusiastically, while poking my ribcage. Ow.
Yeah, I managed, all right—because apparently, he wants to sleep with me. My mind keeps replaying that moment between us. I seriously need to get laid if I'm having these kinds of thoughts about a guy I barely know. And, you know, one who probably sees me as just another pretty face to toy with.
"Yep, and now I'm off to hand this masterpiece to the boss," I say, scooping up the printed copies of my story.
"Can I read it?"
"Sure—when it's published," I reply, giving her a light smack on the head with the papers.
"I can't wait that long," she whines.
"Trust me, it'll probably be out by tomorrow. James Wilson is a big deal," I remind her, heading out of the copy room with her on my heels.
"Speaking of big deals, did you talk to that friend of yours—Brian, right?" I ask, changing the subject. Brian's the cute guy I'm setting Elizabeth up with.
"Oh yeah, he's totally in for a date on Friday. But isn't she into her boss?"
"She's trying to forget him because, and I quote, 'it's unprofessional.'" I roll my eyes. She can be so ridiculous sometimes, but hey, it's her life. If she doesn't want to date the insanely hot boss, that's her loss.
"Your cousin is weird, but damn, is she lucky. Not as lucky as you, though. The way you described James Wilson... He sounds like a god." Eva fans herself dramatically, and I can't help but laugh.
