Page 48

I don't touch it.

“What is it?”

“Contract. Details.”

He shrugs

“And an NDA?” I ask.

He dips his chin.

I laugh again.

“Sign this, then the thirty days begin.”

“What exactly am I agreeing not to disclose?”

“Anything I designate off the record. Proprietary business information. Private information involving third parties. Security protocols. Anything covered by existing confidentiality agreements.”

My excitement dims.

“So you get to censor me.”

“No.”

“That sounds remarkably like censorship.”

“You get unprecedented access to my life. I retain the right not to expose other people's private lives simply because they're standing near me.”

Dammit.

That's actually reasonable. I hate it when super powerful men are reasonable.

“And at the end?”

“At the end of thirty days, you write your story.”

I stare at him.

“Whatever I want?”

His pause is tiny.

But I catch it.

There you are.

“With my media team.”

My excitement crashes directly into suspicion.

“Ah.”

“You'll have editorial freedom within the terms we establish beforehand.”

“Meaning you approve it.”

“Meaning we agree on parameters before you move in.”