Page 36 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Thank you, I’m good.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

Silas’ dark brown curls were disheveled to just the right degree of carelessness, his goatee was precisely cut into a devil-may-care kind of shape, and his skin was just tan enough to let you know he hadn’t spent all winter in the country. And that didn’t even touch on the perfectly starched shirt collar popped out over the vintage knit sweater.

And in all his perfect calculation, he waited for me to take my seat before speaking again: “Cordelia, can I just say that I’m honored to meet you? Thank you for getting in touch.”

“Honored?” I asked.

“I know the sharks have been circling for months. Everyone’s desperate to get an exclusive sit-down. You’re a hard woman to get a hold of.”

“I’m a very private person.”

“Of course,” he leaned forward on his knees, putting on a toothpaste commercial-worthy smile, “that’s what we should focus on, too. You as a person. I’m not here to rehash the same headlines from years ago.”

I blinked at the man in front of me. Too perfectly imperfect. Too focused on saying the right thing. “You’re different from what I imagined,” I said because I was getting the distinct feeling that I was wasting my time. “I wanted to meet with you based on the piece you did in Tanzania.”

“Tanzania?” His mask slipped. Silas’ brows furrowed and his easy smile dropped. “That was ten years ago.”

“Yes. I have since donated a considerable amount to the organizations you accompanied on that trip. I keep in touch with one or two of them. They’ve been making great progress against the poachers in the south.”

He fell back in the chair. The confusion on his face highlighted the little lines around his eyes. He was only a few years older than me, but he’d traveled enough for the sun to mark his skin. “Tanzania?” he asked again.

“If you’re willing to treat the Theresa Montgomery foundation with as much care and respect, I’d love to hire you for our video campaign. I’d need three short videos and one longer one, around fifteen minutes. We have to show people that we exist, how we can help them, and that they’re safe with us.”

The job prospect seemed to get through to him. Interest piqued, the confusion made way for what I assumed was his business face. “I would like to propose a deal.”

“Pitch me,” I replied, unfazed.

“I’ll do your campaign. I can make your foundation look like it was blessed by Mother Teresa herself.” He nodded. “But afterwards, I want to shadow you. I don’t care if it takes a month, six months, or a year. I would like to really spend time with you, see everything you have accomplished and will accomplish.I won’t lie, we will have to talk about your family. Because that’s where it all started and that’s what has already grabbed people’s attention. However, I’d prefer to keep that part to a bare minimum. You’re the story, not your parents.”

“I’m not a story,” I said, shaking my head. Amani had called my past a tragic origin story. Now even my present and future were supposed to be turned into astory?

“Take a few days to think about it.”

“Think about what? You wanting to follow me around for a year? I don’t do much. I sit in this office and type on my computer all day.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what’s interesting. It’s my series.”

“Oh, it’s a series now?”

“Would you prefer a thirty-minute interview with the same boring questions you’ve heard a dozen times already and have mostly declined to answer?”

“I’m flattered, Silas, but I don’t think this will work. I’m trying to drum up PR for a charitable foundation, not get a Netflix special.”

“Again, you don’t have to worry about that. Let me shadow you for a week. That’s all. Just to show you what it would be like, what I can do if you give me that time.”

“You want to audition to make a reality show about me?” That’s all his production company had been spewing out the last three years. Reality shows. I’d hoped the man who had sparked my fascination with nature documentaries still existed, but maybe I’d been wrong.

“It’s a docu series. About you, about the Montgomery fortune, about the Theresa Montgomery foundation, all the people working behind the scenes, and the many women benefiting from it.”

“What would shadowing me look like?”

“I’ll come over with my team-”

“No,” I cut him off, “no, that’s…” My breathing shallowed at the thought of a whole group of camera men and sound guys trampling around my house. Going into all my rooms. I wouldn’t be able to keep all of them on my radar at all times. And if Victor followed one stray around, then I would be alone with the rest of them. Except Victor wasn’t even here now. He was already leaving me alone with this total stranger who was nothing like what I’d expected.

“No team,” I said, voice short, “not in here.”

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