Chapter 2: The Interview - Part 1

*Sophie’s POV*

"Ms. Jones, it's a pleasure to meet you," Nigel greeted me as he walked toward me and extended his hand.

They are warm and soft; I quiver and immediately withdraw my hand. What was that about? I've never had such a reaction before.

D*amn. I wasn't expecting him to be so attractive. He's tall, dressed in a dark blue Armani suit, black shirt, and red bow tie with slick black hair.

"I'm Nigel Smith." His smile is radiant and perfectly complements his goatee. His eyes are bluish-green.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith," I reply.

"Please, call me Nigel." He waves his arm for me to have a seat. I walk behind him and can't help but stare at his physique.

I've interviewed many celebrities before and never felt such entrancement.

Oh, leather seats. Nice. I ran my hand across the armrest before placing my laptop sack on a white fur rug. It's so beautiful, I almost don't want to step on it.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, water, wine?" Nigel asked.

"Hmm, I typically drink a white mocha coffee from Starbucks, but I'm sure water will be just fine," I smile.

Nigel walked to his desk and picked up his phone. "Leslie, please bring Ms. Jones a hot white mocha coffee." He hung up the phone, walked toward me, and sat on the edge of his black marble-top desk with his legs open.

Instantly, my whole body felt hot.

"Wow. It must be nice to request what you want."

I'm trying to engage Nigel in small talk to help ease my anxiety, but it isn’t working.

"It is," he replied, as he winked.

"Well, should we wait for my coffee, or would you like to start the interview now?" I asked, reaching towards my laptop bag.

"We can wait for your coffee. Besides, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you before we begin."

He stood up and walked toward the couch. My heart began to race. I smiled, hoping I didn’t start sweating, but his presence was attractively intimidating.

"I've done my homework on you, Ms. Jones. You are quite the fireball. Tell me, why did you decide to become a journalist?" he asked, rubbing his perfectly trimmed beard.

I'm momentarily speechless. No interviewee has ever asked me why I decided to become a journalist. I don't know why he seems intrigued by me, but I can’t deny that I'm turned on by it.

"Well, I love learning about people. I believe everyone has a story that deserves to be heard," I responded, praying he doesn't continue to ask me more questions.

"And yet, you work for a celebrity news station, which is… hmm, more about gossip than heartwarming stories, correct?" His eyes widen as he looks at me curiously.

‘My, my, aren't we arrogant?’ I think to myself as I ponder on how to answer his question.

I crossed my legs and straightened my back. "Well, I wouldn't say our news station is about gossip. It's more about giving the people what they want."

"And what do they want?" he asked, slowly leaning forward toward me.

I could feel my face getting hot. Is Nigel flirting with me? I've never been this lost for words. Quick, think of an answer, Sophie.

"The people want hot juicy details," I replied, licking my lips. I want to ensure he knows two can play this game.

Nigel scooted closer to me. I can smell the scent of his cologne. He stared at me, and instantly I’m under the spell of his alluring eyes.

A knock on the door interrupted our stare down. Whew, thank God. I don't know how much longer I can take this heat between us.

"Come," Nigel says, his eyes still gazing into mine.

"Here's your white mocha coffee," his secretary stated as she entered the room. "Will that be all, Mr. Jones?"

"Hmm, is there anything else you'd like?" Nigel asked, still staring into my eyes.

"That will be all." I took a sip of my coffee and grabbed my laptop bag.

"So, where would you like to shoot the interview?" I began.

Nigel stood up and walked past his desk toward two white leather love seats and stared out the glass window. His office is bigger than my apartment. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows sat a black marble desk that could easily seat ten people. I recognized one of the paintings on the wall by Leon Zack, whose work sells for forty thousand dollars or more. It was exquisite.

I grabbed my laptop bag and followed Nigel. A gleaming black and white marble coffee table sat between the two white leather love seats. I stared at the coffee table and was certain it was from the Constantine collection by Rove Concepts. This type of coffee table carried a price tag of ten thousand dollars or more.

I've never had the pleasure to afford such luxuries; I only know of these collections because my roommate Sarah forced me to look at magazines with the most expensive art collections and home décor. I tried not to torture myself with such fantasies of living a lavish lifestyle someday. ‘Best not to get your hopes up too high,’ my mom always said.

"Will this do?" Nigel questioned as stretched his arms out in front of the glass window overlooking Miami Beach.

I walked towards the window and stared at the water. The sight was breathtaking, and I was momentarily lost in a trance.

"This is perfect," I whispered.

Nigel slowly walked toward me and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I call this my escape zone," he noted, taking a deep breath before exhaling.

"Hmm, do tell," I pressed, refocusing my attention on him.

"When I feel overwhelmed by all the business decisions I need to make or the demands of life, I come to this area of my office and stare out the window. Instantly, the view of the water and the way the sun glistens off the waves calms me."

I nodded. "Yes, there is something about the water that is therapeutic. When my parents would argue about money or my older brother's drinking problem, I too would find my escape by driving to the beach."

Oh crap, did I just share an intimate detail of my life with this stranger? I was the one who was supposed to be asking questions and listening to the personal details of his life. Damn, he was good.

"Shall we get started?" I asked, grabbing my tripod from the laptop bag.

"I'm ready when you are," he replied. His voice was soft, and I felt my face starting to blush.

I placed the camera in front of the coffee table and ensured the angle captured both of us. I turned on the countdown button and returned to my seat.

"When the camera beeps, we can start the interview."

Nigel watched my every move, and I suddenly felt more nervous than ever felt before. What was it about this man that had such a stunning effect on me? Maybe it was his smile or his flirtatious behavior.

Finally, the camera beeped. I opened my notebook and squared my shoulders to ensure a professional posture.

"Nigel Smith, thank you for agreeing to interview for Celebrity News One."

I smiled and waited for Nigel's reply.

"It's my pleasure," he answered, smiling, showing off his perfect white teeth.

"Nigel, many journalists have tried for years to get an interview with members of this Billionaire Secret Society. Please share with the public your reason for doing an interview now."

Nigel took a deep and crossed his legs. "Well, the members of our club and the CEO Richard Thompson decided now would be the best time."

"Hmm. Is now possibly the best time since the club's CEO running for Mayor of Miami?” I pushed, crossing my legs to mirror his posture.

Nigel laughed and placed one hand in his lap while rubbing his goatee with his other hand. "No, not at all, Sophie. The club decided now was the best time because we want to show the world that we are no different from the men and women who work daily to provide for their families. We also want to share the steps necessary to build wealth. So, this interview isn't just about getting a sneak peek of our lives. It's about giving back."

My eyes widened with shock, and I was appalled at Nigel's arrogance. "Really? What similarities do billionaires have in common with the everyday average men and women struggling to provide for their families?"

"Well, we all want the best for our families. So, we do what's necessary to ensure they are safe and financially stable. Billionaires are not exempt from the struggles of life. We, too, cry or worry about the future, just like any other person, but society would have you think that we are immune to pain."

I could tell he was serious. There wasn’t a trace of humor in his eyes.

Now I was sure this interview was about the CEO wanting to win votes to become the mayor. Nigel was saying all the words people want to hear. I wondered if this interview was a set-up.

As a journalist, I recognized it was time to shift gears. I didn’t want to upset Nigel and have him shut down, but not before asking him one other important question.

"Tell me Nigel, why isn't the CEO, Richard Thompson, doing this interview today instead of you?" I asked, twirling my pen between my fingers.

Surely there had to be a reason why he wasn’t here, especially if this interview would help his campaign.

"Ah. Mr. Thompson is...hmm... indisposed right now. So, he wanted me to interview. I am the club's Vice President, you know."

He puffed his chest out with pride.

"Well, Mr. Vice President, what one word would you use to describe where you are today and what you've accomplished?"

"Persistence. I like getting what I want."

Hmm. Persistence. What a sexy trait.

"And has there been a time when you didn't get what you wanted?

"Never."

"Never?" I replied, crossing my arms.

"Never. Earlier in life, I didn't get what I wanted right away, but eventually, I got it, and that's why I'm in the position I am in today. I always get what I want."

His words sent chills down my spine, and for some reason, I got the idea we were no longer talking about his finances.