Page 88 of Broken Wolf Heart
“We’ve met,” I say, remembering the night Grey took me to dinner. The paparazzi had been lying in wait outside, though we’d known they would be. The same night Grey’s mother had told me that my parents had run from Franco only after they’d failed to change things here for the better. Something I’m determined to do in their memory. Even if it means coming here.
Mia assured me Savannah has a reputation for kindness rather than exploitation like some reporters in this city. I hope she’s right.
“It was a big crowd,” Savannah says. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“Of course I remember. You asked me what Franco thought of my engagement.”
She tilts her head. “Sharp memory. You’d make a good reporter.”
“Oh.” The compliment throws me off. “Thanks.”
“Then again, you have a more important job now.” She grins at that and motions for us to follow her. “Come on back; I’ll show you where we’ve set up.”
We turn away from the maze of cubicles that fill the center aisles. A few people give me curious looks as we pass them, but most ignore us. At the end of the hallway, Savannah shows us into a room that feels a lot like what I pictured for a TV studio. Two oversized chairs face one another, each with a side table set with staged books and decor, and several bright lights on tripods are pointed at the sitting area.
“Take a seat,” Savannah says. “My producer will be in the room to your right. Your friends can wait there too.” I glance over and note what must be one-way glass on the opposite wall. “As requested, the only other person in the room with us will be the cameraman,” she finishes.
Andy and Mia linger, both giving me a look that makes it clear they won’t leave until I say it’s okay. My chest fills at that, but I nod at them, ignoring the roiling in my stomach at what I’m about to do.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell them.
“You’re going to be great,” Mia corrects.
“Break a leg,” Andy says as they file out. “But not someone else’s,” she adds, and I hear them both snicker before the door shuts behind them.
When I’m alone with Savannah, she takes a seat. I do the same, settling into the chair opposite her, careful to keep my ankles crossed demurely. I can only hope I don’t forget myself and pull my knees up to my chest halfway through the interview.
“Nervous?”
I look up to find Savannah watching me, amusement shining in her eyes. “Is it that obvious?”
Her expression fills with understanding. “Pro tip: Pause before you answer my questions so you can catch your breath.”
“Do you get nervous too?”
“Sometimes.” She winks. “Also, it just makes the whole thing feel more dramatic, which is good for ratings.”
My expression must reflect my anxiety at that because she hurries to add, “Sorry, newsroom humor. I don’t mean to imply I only care about the ratings.”
“I know, I just… I want this to be honest and genuine. No manipulation.”
“You mean the opposite of what Vincenzo Diavolo did today?” she asks wryly.
“Basically, yes.”
“You can relax. I don’t do business like that.”
I exhale, letting her words reassure me. Though my nerves are still sending adrenaline coursing through me. I’ve never been much for the spotlight, and now I’m about to shine a light on every dark corner of my past for the entire city to see.
I make myself a deal to not throw up until after it’s over.
“You tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll start rolling,” Savannah says.
I tense. “Are we live?”
“We will be. Just like you asked.”
Right. I exhale shakily, reminding myself this was my idea. And when it comes to Vincenzo, it’s the best one I have. I’m fighting fire with fire.
