Page 14 of The Golden Scoop

When his voice comes across as unexpectedly tender, instead of annoyed, I look up and meet his eyes, searching for the lie.

Our stare locks, but I find no trace of insincerity.

He taps into that strange way we’re able to read each other’s thoughts. Usually it’s just insults, but now he’s leveling with me.

I know you hate me and I hate you too, but please don’t go. I can be professional. I need this. I will get down on my knees if I have to, he seems to say.

Yeah, I’ve added a few colorful remarks of my own, but that’s basically the gist of it.

Still, Jennifer must sense my hesitation because she steps in, taking charge of whatever is happening between us.

“Let me explain the details before you make any sort of decision,” she begins. “The shadow assignment will last three weeks, with the article scheduled for publication the week after. You will follow Matt pretty much everywhere. You will have exclusive access to set, interviews, and even his home.”

Home.

That makes me cringe. I always draw the line at private property when it comes to finding the truth. Matt, on the other hand, looks downright pleased, like he’d willingly leave his front door open and roll out a red carpet while he’s at it.

Now she turns to me fully. “All expenses will be paid for while you’re with him. I can tell this could be as important for you as it is for him, and I think you’d make a great team.”

“I won’t sacrifice my journalistic integrity, even if for my own personal gain, if that’s what you’re implying.”

This time, it’s Matt who speaks up.

“You won’t have to. I promise.”

“Fine.”

I nod. Jennifer seems more than satisfied with my answer. She grabs her purse from the armchair and gives Matt another stern look.

“Don’t mess this up,” she says before turning to me and extending her hand. “Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

And with that, she’s off, leaving two sworn enemies alone in a space suddenly too small for the amount of tension in it.

“Do you want to bet?” he asks, shortening the space between us until I have to bend my neck to meet his eyes.

He licks his bottom lip, and I’m momentarily distracted.

“Bet on what?”

Matt leans down and lowers his voice right next to my ear.

“That I can make you beg.”

I push him hard enough he stumbles a step back to find his balance.

“You’re an idiot, Matthew.”

“Just keeping you on your toes,” he replies with his signature smile. His hand comes out to me. “Give me your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“So I can save my number. You’re going to need it if you want to follow me everywhere I go.”

I huff, but I pull it out of my pocket and hand it over. He does the same with his. I save myself as ‘Emma Miller.’

“Strictly professional use.”

“Of course,” he assures with the confidence of someone who absolutely doesn’t mean it.