Learning to Trust Part 3: The Offer by B. B. Roman Page B

my questions. I came here as a reporter, and that wasn't changing. However, that didn't mean thing as far as how I was going to proceed from here. Would I go home with the story of a lifetime and change my life forever, the independent, fi erce, young female reporter that toppled a multi-billion-dollar empire? The woman that got answers when no one else could? Or would I bail out and lie like I did in the past to save those people involved? Neither option seemed that appealing to me, frankly.
    My morning routine seemed especially bland. Not much could top the excitement I had experienced the previous day, something that made the daily motions even more mundane than they normally were. I played with my hair, styling it in every possible way I could until I settled with straightening it, a look that made me feel both sexy and powerful. I felt like being a little defiant; I wore a dressy, low-cut dark-green blouse and short skirt combo, you know, the typical sexy secretary type outfit—one that probably would have gotten me thrown out of most offices. I admired the tops of my ample breasts, my creamy skin flowing out from the top. As much as I beat myself up about my body, I never complained about my breasts. And w hether I was too dressed up or not, I looked and felt hot, impressed by my spur-of-the-moment clothing choices. I suspected that Roland would be satisfied with my choices, even though it clearly wasn't casual attire .
    When I pulled up to the house, I found Roland outside in a lawn chair, legs spread out, reading a newspaper. The drive had been pleasant; the sunlight and sparse clouds of the bright-blue sky had helped me stay relaxed , reminding me of days on the beach growing up . He saw me pull up, returning his eyes to his newspaper until I got out of the car. If I hadn't been fixated on him the whole time, I probably would have assumed he was so lost in thought that he didn't hear me pull up . I was so ready to go, so ready for—
    It hit me. I felt an incredible knot in my stomach, my nervousness suddenly exploding at once. Oh god, what was I doing here? I guess seeing Roland was enough to take me out of my element, force me to consider things again. I hadn't even thought about that giant X-thing that he told me we'd use today. That St. Petersburg cross or whatever. I had planned to go back to the hotel and research what it was, but it just slipped my mind. Now I was regretting that mistake. I got out of the car, suddenly feeling stupid in my outfit. My streak of confidence had ende d just as quickly as it started, a race lost before it even started.
    Just go.
    I got out of the car and stood there for a second, adjusting my top in the side mirror so that it was level with my cleavage. Notebook in hand, I approached Roland. He was wearing that fancy robe again, the one that actively screamed I'm comfortable—and rich! He put down his paper and smiled at me.
    "Marisa! Wow, you look stunning. I do hope it's comfortable!" The smile remained even after his words stopped.
    "Wow, yeah, thanks, Sir," I said out of habit from the role-playing yesterday.
    He let out a hearty laugh. "We're not in a scene right now, Marisa. Please don't call me Sir. That's for later."
    I blushed. "Yeah, okay, Roland. Nice day, huh?"
    "It's simply beautiful. A beautiful day is just one of those things that you can't buy. Well, not yet anyway."
    "You could always just fly to somewhere nicer," I added. "That would be like buying a beautiful day."
    "You're just on a roll today, aren't you?" He kept his back pressed against the chair. "You're right, but if today was gloomy and bleak, and I wanted to stay here , what choice would I have other than waiting?"
    "Yeah, you're right." I continued my awkward stance near him, not really sure where to go. I kept expecting him to sweep me into his arms for a hug, kissing me deeply, tasting me with his tongue. Well, I was wishing that would happen. But it didn't.
    "My, you do look simply marvelous today."