“Now we’re both fools.”
“But we’re two fools in love,” he said to her smiling. And then he kissed her.
Somehow, Nicole knew he was telling her the truth. As crazy as the whole thing was, as ridiculous and unbelievable as it might be that Red Jameson loved her—Nicole knew that he did.
They sat down together on the couch in his office. Red took off her heels and rubbed her feet. “I guess this will make telling your parents we’re still planning on getting married even more complicated,” Red laughed.
Nicole put her face in her hands. “Oh my god. Please, don’t remind me.”
“If we can get through this, marriage is going to be a piece of cake,” he said.
“Don’t joke at a time like this.” But she smiled and curled into him, like a kitten on his lap. Red stroked her hair and told her he loved her.
They sat like that for a few minutes, Nicole marveling that she was somehow able to trust him after seeing those emails.
Suddenly, a knock on the door. Red stood up. “Come in.”
Two men walked through the door. One of them was a total stranger—a big man with a beard who looked about as friendly as Tony Soprano. The other man practically knocked the breath out of her.
Anderson. He was standing there with a nervous smile playing across his face, trying and failing to appear confident. Nicole stood up. “That’s him,” she said. “That’s the guy who gave me those emails.”
“I know,” Red told her. He turned to the Tony Soprano look alike. “Thanks for this, George. Send me a bill for your time.”
George nodded briskly. “Absolutely, Mister Jameson.” And then he left the room.
“Now it’s just the three of us,” Red said, as if he were hosting an intimate dinner party and was happy to be rid of the noisier guests.
“You didn’t have to have your goon bring me in. If you’d asked nicely, I’d have come in willingly,” Anderson said.
“Want a drink?” Red asked, strolling to the bar.
“No thank you. I’d rather you cut to the chase.”
Nicole watched Anderson and noticed he was actually sweating, and a little vein was pulsing in his throat. He was petrified right now, she realized, and felt a surge of pity for the man.
“The thing is,” Red said, “I never like to get in the way of anybody’s livelihood. You’re a tabloid journalist and I respect your right to earn a living.”
“Thank you,” Anderson replied.
“On the other hand, I really can’t allow you to hurt the woman I love.” He poured some vodka into a glass and came back to within a few feet of where Anderson stood. Physically, Red was imposing, and Anderson seemed to wither in front of him.
“I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I had information I thought she might like to know, and I told her. I’m sorry if it inconvenienced you.”
Red handed the drink he’d made to Anderson. “Take this, I think you’re going to need it.”
“Really, I don’t want it—“
“Trust me.” Red pushed the drink into the older man’s hands. Finally, Anderson took the drink as the vodka inside sloshed over onto his shoes.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Anderson said, “and I really don’t like someone trying to intimidate me. You might be able to do that with your employees and hangers on, but I’m not beholden to you.”
“Have a drink,” Red said. “Seriously. I promise I didn’t poison you.”
Anderson’s hand shook. Finally, he had a sip, grimacing. “There. Can I leave now?”
“You said you’re not beholden to me,” Red began, putting his hands behind his back like a professor starting a class lecture. “But what if you’re wrong about that?”
“I’m not wrong.”
“Are you absolutely certain of that?”
“I’ve had just about enough of your riddles, Mister Jameson.”
“It’s not a riddle.” Red crossed to his desk and sat casually on the edge of it. “You know, I never particularly cared about the stories you people ran. You said all kinds of things—some true, some lies—but none of it mattered to me.” Red looked at Nicole. “But then I met someone who changed my life.”
Anderson couldn’t contain a mocking snort.
Red glowered at the man. “It might seem funny to you, but I take my relationship with my fiancé very, very seriously. Today, for the first time, I stopped finding your stories cute and funny.”
“I’m sorry for that,” Anderson said, not sounding particularly sorry.
“When something bothers me, I usually take action,” Red continued, as if the other man hadn’t spoken. “So I did the easiest thing. I bought your magazine.”
Anderson stared at him, stunned. “You did no such thing.”
“I said you’d need that drink.”
The older man gulped it down swiftly, his whole body trembling. “Please tell me you’re joking.”