Please understand, I had desperate ambitions to be a journalist by then. It seemed like a worthy sacrifice. Most of the working staff were already cutthroats, so it looked natural from my fatigued view.

Now Mackenzie Billings, though unscrupulous, still had the foresight to ensure every dubious interview and story had some truth. I manipulated Louis to invite me to his house, which he shared with his mother. I put my feelings aside and asked to meet him for dinner that night. Louis acted ecstatic at the news, the happiest I’d seen him since we first met. To be honest, I was experiencing excitement too. We dressed to the nines and went to an Italian restaurant. Louis blushed whenever I smiled at him, while I joked about how he hogged the breadsticks to himself. He told me he liked the ugly bows of my stiletto heels. I complimented the 1970s avocado green turtleneck sweater he wore (at his mother’s insistence).

We talked and laughed over dinner so much that I forgot the true purpose of my date with him, until the waiter brought us a bottle of Chianti wine with a note on the neck that said, “Go get ‘em, lucky star!” I knew the bottle was from Miss Billings because she’d  stated that phrase to me for several years.

My good cheer evaporated in a flash. Louis noticed and asked what bothered me. I told him about the added stress at our job and how uncomfortable it had become to work at a place I once thought was a dream come true. Louis said he felt the same way about it and assured me about the evidence he gathered against Miss Billings.

Without another word about work, we continued our date late into the evening. On the drive home, I asked if we could go out again. Louis agreed and dropped me off, but not before stealing a kiss from me. He drove off, and I stood on the sidewalk of my apartment, numb to everything but the reminder of my mission.