Chapter 4 SHE GOT ME!

• "A blind
• date?", asks the journalist, Alyssa is her name. She jumps right on it,
• without hesitation she bites into my slip, alert as hell.
• "That can be arranged, no problem".
• She chuckles as if she just won the lottery, already envisioning a creamy
• story. I could hit myself on the forehead, I feel so stupid. These vultures are
• always out for anything to make life difficult for celebrities like me, only to
• bring in a hot topic for their medium.
• "Aahhh, it was just a joke. The man is
• married, and I don't think his wife will appreciate her husband going on a
• blind date with a beautiful single woman. If you were in her place, you wouldn't want that
• either, would you? I don't want to be a homewrecker".
• I try to limit the d
• amage, knowing beforehand that it will be in vain.
• She's got her teeth
• deep in this soap and won't let go. Sensational headlines not only benefit her
• magazine, but also earn her a hefty commission.
• Like a rooky, I fell
• in her trap. And right at this moment when I've decided I should stay away from
• Dordrich. "Well, I don't think so. His wife knows he's a public figure and
• exposed to a lot. We'll explain to her what's going on."
• "And what
• exactly is going on?", I counter back. Because the purpose of the blind
• date is not yet clear to me. Maybe this is my escape. I thought!
• Devilish as she is,
• she plays out her plan perfectly.
• "We have a
• segment on one of our TV channels where we link celebrities for a good cause.
• The sponsors of the program then donate to a charity organization aimed at
• women and children. Celebrities like to participate in this because it means
• extra exposure and improves their image. I'm sure that you and Mr. Fellogan
• like to do something for underprivileged women and children," she
• increases the pressure on me to keep me from slipping out of her trap, and
• emotionally blackmails me into joining.
• She knows I regret my
• unfortunate joke, but that is just what those journalists like the most. They
• just make their living from other people's misery.
• I take a deep breath and throw my personal
• card on the table, in a final attempt to get rid of my appearance in this
• useless show. "I don't actually date married men. I don't really want to
• be connected to them, is my personal code," I say, shaking my head. She
• smiles as she looks at me intently.
• "Loraine," she emphasizes my name,
• "Why do I have the feeling that your objection is with Mr. Fellogan and
• not with the fact that he is married? Everyone knows that these programs are
• fictitious, and the date only serves social causes. You protest too loudly. Is
• there more between you and Mr. Fellogan?".
• "Hey, don’t take
• this too far. I saw the man for the first time last night. I don't do any
• business with his companies either. And like I said, I don't have affairs with
• married men, at least as far as I do get involved in relationships," I strongly
• deny. She doesn't elaborate on it, but I can see from her face that she won't
• stop there.
• "That's taken
• care of. I'll send you an official invitation to the show. Just make sure
• you're there when we need you. It was your own proposal, by the way", she
• packs up, clearly pleased with the result achieved with this interview. As she
• walks down the hall to the front door, I see her looking meaningfully at the
• roses. She bends over and inhales deeply on one. Deliberate and provocative.
• She then turns and looks at me with a beaming dubious face. "Beautiful,
• expensive roses", she responds with raised eyebrows.
• We greet each other
• and she leaves, whistling. That bitch.
• Troubles ahead, I know right away. But for
• later care, I think.
• As I walk to my room,
• I can smell the roses all over the house, they totally upgrade my mood. After a
• final inspection of my make-up and clothing, I walk back to the kitchen where I
• store my car keys. Today I choose my latest Bugatti sports, superfast, enough
• to blow the wind through my system.
• I grab the keys and decide to go for a joyride
• before reporting to work.
• I jump behind the wheel and let the heavy
• engine run dominating. When I hit the accelerator, it roars like a bull,
• impatient to go full force. With a smooth drive, I am out of my garage, heading
• for the highway. I quickly run the road, releasing my emotions until a relaxed
• feeling takes over my body.
• After an hour long
• ride, I turn into the underground of my business premises and park my car in
• the space reserved especially for me. When I’m out, I arrange my pitch black hair
• in the car window, a daily routine of mine.
• Suddenly I feel like I'm being watched. I don’t
• panick at all, I know that all areas in this building are heavily secured and
• as the CEO, the guards keep a close eye on my arrival. So if anyone is present in
• this parking lot right now, it must be a top staffer arriving at the same time and
• it’s therefore safe. To be sure, I look around and see no one. Without any
• fear, I grab my coat and bag and walk to the elevator with my hips swaying.
• On my way to my
• office, I greet some workers and chat here and there with some of them. As a
• CEO you have to appreciate your personnel if you want to get the best out of them,
• and I already see how happy they are with my personal contact. Such a small
• investment for a big result.
• When I enter my
• office, to my great surprise, I see ROSES! Lots of them. The same as delivered
• to my home..