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my phone and search his name. I’m not sure how to spell it, but after a couple tries, I finally find him.
That confident smile follows him in every picture that comes up. The first webpage is filled with links to articles from Forbes, Bigger Pockets, The Entrepreneur, and various smaller publications. I click on his wikipedia profile first, then his Instagram account. His LinkedIn profile is filled with detailed descriptions of his accomplishments, and his website is pretty much the same thing but with more pictures. His net worth makes my eyes bulge. My thoughts are spinning as the journalist in me takes over.
What the hell is someone like him doing in Birmingham? I don’t know much, but I know our real estate market is much smaller than Arizona’s where his social media profiles claim he lived before he moved. He has– I take a deep breath. He has so much money.
That can’t be right. Belle said he’s Neal’s business partner. Is Belle and Neal that wealthy? Their house is an average four bedroom three bath suburban home. Belle never acts like–
I search the name Neal Watson and audibly gasp. His online presence is just as extensive as Stefan’s. They’re actually together in a lot of the photos. I google Neal’s net worth, and choke on my saliva. Belle is rich? Since when? Oh my God. My phone is shaking as I slip it into the pocket of my jean shorts.
Of course I have to do this article. It'd be amazing to feature someone of Stefan’s class. He’s a perfect representation of misogyny in our society. That terrible cockiness, that smug smile, that air of confidence. I can write a scathing article commenting on the ridiculous mentality of the wealthy man in America and how he views women.
Stefan has made it clear that he only intends to have sex with me. I can tell from the ease of his suggestions how many times he’s done this before with other women. Belle told me already that he’s been with many, but even if she hadn’t said anything, I’d know he’s an unapologetic womanizer.
Neal’s face flashes through my mind. He’s nothing like that, but he doesn’t matter. He’s going to break my sister’s heart as soon as he gets bored. He’s just not bored yet, but I’m a hundred percent sure he’s going to prove everything I suspect in just a little while.
But someone like Stefan is a perfect representation of everything we publish at Bitch Press. I have to interview him. He’s going to make the best feature yet. The ultra successful real estate mogul, playboy extraordinaire. I run inside the house unintentionally slamming the door behind me. Neal, Belle, and Ella look at me all with wide eyes.
“What’s wron–” Ella starts.
“Stefan!” I gasp. “Where is he?”
“Oh, he had to leave. He said something came up,” Neal replies.
Damn. I’ll have to text him. I don’t want him to have my number, but I doubt someone as well known as he is will respond to a social media DM.
“What’s going on?” Belle asks, munching on cheese cubes.
“I’m going to interview him for Bitch Press.”
Neal laughs out loud. “He’s actually going to do an interview. Hell must have frozen over.”
