Chapter 50

Miles’s words rattle through me. “I’m not your enemy,” I say at once.

“You work for Hugo. You want to be a reporter. You did all of this without saying one word to me, even though we’ve talked since this all happened. What am I supposed to think?”

“This job is for me, Miles. It has nothing to do with you.” As I speak, I take the open seat he gestured to, the one opposite him at his table. “You know I need to make connections if I’m going to convince a judge to give me full custody. But I’ll also need an income to help support them.”

“Hugo pays well?” he asks.

“So far…”

Miles watches me like he’s studying me. “What about what Amber said. Are you a temp employee?”

“Right now, yes. But...”

“An interview with me would change that for you.”

There’s no use lying. “Yes.”

“Is that why you came here today?” he asks.

“I was going to tell you the truth,” I say. “Before I asked for the interview.”

“So Amber was right.” Miles’s expressionless mask finally cracked, but only so that he could frown. “You want to use me like all the rest.”

“No,” I tell him.

“No?” he repeats, lifting a brow.

“No,” I say again. Hitching my bag into my lap, I open the flap and start digging through. “What I propose is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Finding the folder I want, I remove it from my bag and then slide it across the table. Miles accepts it at once. He flips open the folder and starts scanning the paperwork inside.

“What is all this?” he asks.

“Besides Hugo, there are 6 board members for Harbinger News Company. I believe you might recognize some of their names.” I point at the page on top of the stack.

Miles looks where I’m pointing. “These are some of the wealthiest men and women in the city.”

“In the country,” I correct.

Miles looks up at me. “Now, Esther. I know you aren’t trying to bribe me for an interview.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Four of these board members are also members of one of the most exclusive clubs in town.”

“I don’t mean to insult you, Esther, but Rockview Elite Country Club, despite its name, is not nearly as exclusive as you are making it sound.”

“I’m not talking about my country club,” I tell him. I lean forward. “I’m talking about the Whisperers.”

That gives Miles pause. He sits back on his stool. His mouth goes slack for a half-second before he pops it closed again.

“You know the name,” I say.

“I’m more surprised that you do,” Miles says. “Exclusive doesn’t even begin to cover the Whisperers. “It’s their invisible hand that guides practically every political action in the country. I’ve been dying for years to see behind the curtain. Even my own father was tight lipped about them.”

He looks at me with renewed interest. “How in the world did you hear of them?”

I’m not about to share that it was a good-natured conversation with a mayor and his dressed-up dog, while the mayor may have had a wine too many that let the secret slip. My first assignment, the trip to the dog fashion show, was more important than I’d led on in my article.

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” I say. That much is true. The mayor, when he realized the secret he shared, begged me not to tell anyone. I promised I wouldn’t. He even made me promise his dog.

“Even if you’ve heard of them,” Miles says. “And even if there are members of Hugo’s board who are a part of it, there’s no actual way you could get me a meeting. Thanks for the information, Esther, but I truly don’t see how this can help me.”

It seems showing Miles the door isn’t good enough. I’m going to have to shove him through it.

“How do you feel about dog fashion shows?” I ask.

Miles gives me a strange look before he realizes. “You can get me a meeting.”

“Harbinger News Company can get you a meeting,” I say. “If you come around to their good side, you might not find yourself on the outs so much anymore.”

The Whisperers, despite whatever else they are, are primarily a political resource. Looking in the company’s files, I’ve stumbled onto the countless number of records they keep, on voters albeit anonymously, on politicians, on issues.

I’m sure Miles’s own team keeps track of things, but it is nothing like what the Whisperers have access to. Their records go back generations. They have advanced AI that helps calculate projections well into the future.

And all of it is sitting right there in the Harbinger News Company’s database.

This kind of resource as well as these connections would be vital to Miles not just for his current campaigns, but any aspirations he might have in the future.

Miles combs through my folder, though what I brought is only a small portion of what the Harbinger News Company and the Whisperers could provide.

“I’m not sure I like how smart you are, Esther,” he says.

I smile at the compliment while he’s occupied with the folder. When he glances up at me, I try to school my expression, but I’m so pleased that my smile breaks through.

When he sees it, he relaxes and his own grin forms. Eyes sparkling with mischief, he adds, “Though I prefer you in my bed.”

“Shh!” I say at once, my cheeks burning hot. I look around, but no one is really paying attention to us. The counter is busy. People are barking their orders and the old-fashioned cash register keeps chiming.

Secretly, I’m thrilled by both compliments. In the span of two sentences, Miles complimented my brains and my body. Both gave me a little thrill.

Leaning forward, Miles keeps his voice low as he says, “God, you are so hot when you flush like that.”

“Miles, please.”

His grin sharpens into a smirk for a moment, before falling entirely. “Unfortunately, I still have to refuse.”

He flips the folder closed and then slides it across the table to me.

I stare at it a moment, wide-eyed. I don’t understand. While I was talking, he’d been so into what I was saying. The Whisperers… my research…

He’d been impressed enough to call me smart.

“You did a good job, Esther. You presented a good argument. There’s no hard feelings.”

“Then why?” I ask. “If I did so well, why are you refusing me?”

“I’m not refusing you,” Miles says. “I’m refusing your offer.”

“You aren’t giving me a reason,” I say. “I would like one.”

Looking at me, his gaze darkens. For me, the sensual mood has passed. Instead, he’s now crushing my hopes at the future. There isn’t anything particularly sexy about that.

At least, there shouldn’t be. But the fiery head in his eyes is undeniable and it still rattles through my bones in a way that feels visceral, instinctual.

“The reason I am refusing is simple,” Miles says. His voice pitches deeper. “I want you, Esther, in every way a man can want a woman. But I don’t mix business and pleasure.”