Page 14 of Love Under the Microscope
Not that this guy knows my last name since I use Zelda L on my emails.
As Jack reads the NDA, lines on his forehead and around his mouth deepen. He’s not happy. I didn’t think he would be, but that’s not my problem.
His gaze lifts to me. “What if I don’t sign this?”
“Earl will escort you out.” I keep my tone steady and don’t blink. “But at least I have a face to your name now, so I’ll call your visit a win.”
He starts to speak but then presses his lips together.
I shrug. “That’ll be a shame since I won’t get to know the real reason you’re here. I know it’s not to interview me.”
Jack laughs. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m calling him out or if he’s nervous. I doubt the latter because he seems as cool as dry ice. “What makes you think I don’t want to talk about you and only you for the next hour or so?”
“You’d give an assistant a whole hour of your time? Must be a slow news day.”
He focuses on the contract.
I lean forward over my desk. “Just so you know, I can smell BS a mile away, and right now, my office stinks.”
He wets his lips again, but he says nothing. Finally, he looks up again. “Cards on the table?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“An interview with you would be interesting, but ultimately, I want to talk to others.”
“Zentello’s co-CEOs.”
“Yes, especially Mr. Z.”
“Everyone wants to speak to Mr. Z. Why do you?”
Jack flinches slightly, then seems to catch himself. “He’s an enigma, and I want to know why he’s so secretive and if he stole Orchid’s formula.”
Interesting. Mr. Z is the one being accused, not Nate. “You didn’t write today’s Lab Notes column.”
“No.”
“Is that why you didn’t ask me for clarification?”
“Partly,” he admits. “I only found out about the article today.”
I snort in disbelief. This guy must think I’m an idiot.
“It’s true, or I would’ve told you,” he adds. “As I have in the past. But I should tell you I’ve been assigned to investigate and write a feature about the accusation.”
Aha! I’m right. “So that’s the real reason you came.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and stares directly into my eyes. “Wouldn’t Mr. Z want the truth to be told?”
Yes, but… “Do you know what company claims their formula was stolen?”
“A name might’ve been mentioned in passing.”
“Who?” The question shoots out before I can stop it.
He shakes his head. “Quid pro quo.”
Ugh. One thing is clear. Jack Parker isn’t stupid. We’ll be going back and forth unless I convince him to put his John Hancock on that contract. “Sign the NDA, and we can talk.”
