Page 50 of Carnal Games

It was after acing the written test, two grueling group discussion rounds, and two personal interviews that I got the internship.

Harshita’s office door is wide open when I reach it.

She waves me in. “Close the door and take a seat.”

My hand is clammy as I do as she says. I hide my nerves, which come from the unscheduled meeting. My anxiety is the worst when I’m unprepared.

You’re not. You have a plan.

It’ll be fine.

My heart is beating wildly as I sit down across from my boss and plaster on a smile. “Morning.”

Harshita is one of the senior editors at the firm. She’s picky when it comes to interns. Some years, she even skips mentoring one.

The first impression my professors or peers get is that I don’t have a backbone because of my shy and awkward nature. That I’m not made for this line of career.

That’s why it shocked everyone when she picked me.

Just me.

“So—” She pushes up her thick glasses up her nose. “—where are we on the article?”

Shit. She thinks I’ve taken the interview. Fidgeting under the desk, I speak past the brick in my throat. “I haven’t started it yet. I’m still waiting to get in touch with Mr. Singhania. It’s been a little difficult.”

In the world of journalism, every second delayed is a chance for your competition to deliver or broadcast the news first.

If I want the opportunity to work here as a junior editor, I need to prove myself.

So far, I’m failing.

Harshita’s mouth presses in a firm line and she leans back. “In your interview, you said you want to be an investigative journalist.”

“Yes, that’s my goal.”

“Then a simple interview should be a cakewalk for you, Iris. If you can’t find a way to do this, then you’re not cut out to be a journalist, let alone an investigative one. You need to be quick on your feet.”

I fight the urge to lower my gaze. I open my mouth.

She cuts me off by asking, “Isn’t Kian your fiancé’s older brother?”

I’m slightly taken aback. Though I shouldn’t be, since it was bound to come out at some point.

“He is,” I reply.

“Why didn’t you use that connection?”

Because they don’t talk. “Won’t that be unethical?”

She smiles, like my answer amuses her. As I repeat it in my head, I realize how naïve I sound. A good journalist is as good as their connections and hidden sources. Even if your intentions are pure, you have to get your hands dirty.

But Kian isn’t just anyone.

“I know there was bad blood between Kian and his father. Is there something between the brothers too?”

A bad feeling rises in the pit of my stomach, judging by the calculative look in her eyes. “I’m not comfortable talking about my fiancé’s personal relationships. As for the interview, I’m close to setting up one. I will finish the article, ma’am.”

“There are two reasons why I chose you, Iris.” Her fingers tap on the arm of the chair as she runs her inquisitive gaze over my face. She leans forward, lifting one finger. “I saw the passion and the ambition in your eyes as you talked about being the top investigative journalist in the country in your personal interview. It reminded me of myself when I stepped into this field.”

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