“May I show you something, Mia?” he asked, pulling out his phone.
“Sure.”
He crooked his finger, and then patted the seat next to him. “Would you mind hanging on to the dog for a moment, Lee?”
“Not at all, Mr. Anderson.”
Michael looked directly at her, then back to Lee. “Have we met before?”
“No. But I’ve lived in the City my whole adult life and just about everyone here knows who you are. I recognized you the second I saw you. Just played along with your tourist routine.”
Once Mia had climbed back into the carriage, he handed her his phone. “Google me. More specifically, Google my name and NYC.”
She did and the screen filled with tiny thumbnails of Michael. Holy shit. She had no idea.
He took the phone and entered something. “This is my favorite.”
He turned the screen toward her and it was a blurry shot of him stooping to pick up a pile of dog poop on the sidewalk while Clancy sniffed another dog. “What do you think would happen if I went strolling over that bridge or danced to that band down there?”
“I know exactly what would happen. Someone might take a picture of Michael Anderson having fun. Heaven forbid.”
“You’re missing my point. You’d be in the picture, too.”
Was it her? He didn’t strike her as being that shallow.
“It’s a sensitive time for me, Mia. I’m trying to close several big deals. One of which is tenuous at best. I need to be careful and control what gets out there right now.”
She took the phone back and scrolled through the photos. “You’ve worked hard to get that entrepreneur playboy image just right, huh?” Photos of him on news shows, at fundraisers, and with slick, sophisticated women followed one after the other as she flipped from image to image. Maybe he was that shallow. A different woman in every photo. “So powerful and serious—and such a player,” she said, handing the phone back.
“Yes.”
“But is that who you really are?”
“It’s who I need to be.”
His eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, but she could see her reflection in them—her messy ponytail and make-up free face. The polar opposite of the women she’d seen in the photographs. No wonder he didn’t want to be seen with her. She and Michael moved in different worlds that didn’t intersect at any point. At least she could be real in hers. And she certainly had no place in his.
“I know that this is the part of the conversation where most people would just say, okay, and step back because your career is so important.”
He crossed his arms over his chest across his starched shirt. “But?”
“But I’m not most people.” She was actually glad she couldn’t see his piercing blue eyes, because if he’d employed that dominant look he’d used on her when he told Jason they were engaged, she might have done the smart thing and shut up. Instead, true to form, she plowed ahead. “I feel sorry for you, Michael Anderson. I bet nobody’s ever said that to you before, have they?”
He didn’t respond. He simply sat there, completely still, face unreadable and hidden behind his mirrored shades.
She stepped down from the carriage and took the leash from Lee. “I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to be worried what other people will think all the time. To never say or do anything you really want. To never be yourself.”
“Just like me, you only let people see what you want them to see. You manipulate your image every bit as much as I do.”
“You’re wrong.” She took a deep breath and stared over the lake for a moment. “I really thought I could help you. But now, I’m not sure.” She turned her attention back to him. “Not if you won’t let me.”
…
“Wow,” Lee said as Mia crossed over the bridge, never looking back. “She’s something.”
“Yes, she is.” Help him? The woman had it turned around. He was helping her.
The driver straightened his top hat. “She lobbed you an easy one.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re supposed to follow her.”
Michael took his gaze off of Mia’s retreating form to look at Lee. “That’s not what I got out of it.”
“Mr. Anderson, I may be about to way overstep here—”
“Then don’t.” He could barely see her between the trees on the other side. She’d stopped at a vendor cart with a bright yellow umbrella.
As expected, the guy overstepped anyway. “When she said, ‘Not if you won’t let me,’ that was code for, ‘let me’.” You’re supposed to follow her. If you don’t, you’ve really screwed up.”