Chapter 4: Can't Stop Thinking About Him

*Sophie’s POV*

The elevator was taking forever to reach the bottom floor. I had to get out of this building. The scent of Nigel's cologne was everywhere, and I felt intoxicated by it. Maybe it wasn’t his cologne; perhaps it was him. I could still feel his soft skin. The way he placed his hand on mine still made my body quiver.

His words, ‘I always get what I want’, replayed like a song stuck on repeat in my mind. There was something sexy about a man that relentlessly pursued his desires and wouldn’t rest until he had them.

My mind wandered to the possibility that Nigel wanted me…

I stopped myself and shook my head. No. Such fantasies were a waste of time. Besides, I only knew what it felt like to be needed instead of wanted, and the two were very different.

My previous boyfriend, Jarred, needed me. He needed me to hold him up, help him walk up the stairs, and lay him on the bed after drinking himself into a stupor. He needed me to pay off his debts from failed business ventures despite the financial strain it put on me. He needed me to stroke his ego, downplay my accomplishments, and not overshadow him.

I was never wanted, never loved. Only needed.

Thankfully, the elevator had stopped, bringing my mental chatter to an end. I spent two years in therapy working through the trauma from my relationship with Jarred, and I didn’t want to relive the memories of life with him.

It was nice of Nigel to have the club's limousine service drive me back to the new station. I exited the elevator and walked towards the rotating glass door. George, my driver, was waiting for me in front of the black Rolls-Royce Phantom limousine.

I removed my heels and dug my toes into the soft red carpet. God bless whoever invented massaging car seats. Closing my eyes, I began my critique of the interview. I attempted to replay each scene, but my mind kept getting distracted by Nigel's smile.

I wasn't myself today, and I hope it didn’t show in the review session at work. More importantly, I hope the news team won’t pick up on the apparent attraction between Nigel and me.

The limousine stopped, and George opened the door. The ride to the interview seemed longer than the ride back to the news station.

George grabbed my hand and helped me get out of the car.

“Thank you, George,” I noted with a smile.

"My pleasure,” George replied, nodding his head.

Typically, I welcomed the barrage of questions journalists had after I completed an interview, but today, I feared I’d be speechless. How would I explain the moments of sexual tension I felt? I wonder if Nigel felt it too. I had four more interviews with him. I needed to pull myself together before the second interview, but his presence was electric.

I walked through the door, and before I could get my other foot in, Jodi and the rest of the team were in my face, hounding me with questions.

"So, how did the interview go? Jodi asked, putting her arm around me.

"How did it feel to meet a billionaire? Did he shake your hand? And how did it feel to touch a billionaire? Did it feel like touching a billion dollars?” Dani, our junior journalist, asked, her eyes widening with anticipation.

I chuckled softly, hoping to keep my body from quivering at the thought of Nigel's touch.

"Did you ask him for any money?" Derrick, our video editor, asked, pushing Jodi aside.

"Was his office filled with expensive stuff?" Sarah, another colleague, asked.

"I hope this interview is going to be good. It's not every day you get to meet a billionaire," said Jane, crossing her arms and staring at me with judgment.

"Ok. Ok, everyone. Give Sophie some space.” Nancy yelled, pushing my colleagues aside.

I handed Nancy the camera to prepare the recording for my review session.

"I promise I'll share everything during the review session. I need a few moments to decompress,” I noted, and she gave a reassuring nod.

I rushed to my office, flopped in my chair, and exhaled. The first thing I want to do is get out of these clothes and five-inch heels.

I called Stephanie and asked her to bring my clothes to the office. If I walked out that door, I'd get bombarded with more questions.

"Here's your clothes, Sophie. Oh, and by the way, you can keep the dress," Stephanie stated, winking her eye at me.

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand in shock. "What? We never get to keep the clothes from our interviews."

"Hey, I'm just the messenger," Stephanie shrugged before leaving.

'Hmm. I'm not complaining,’ I thought to myself.

I changed my clothes and walked to the review room. Jodi stood by my door, waiting for me as always.

“Wow, this guy must have had a profound effect on you,” she observed with enlarging eyes.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, trying to mask my clearly obvious fluster.

Her eyes narrowed. “You seem nervous, and you're never nervous.” I looked at her, giving her a hopeless gaze, and she smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry. I'm sure you did fine. You always shine, and I've heard that your videos are getting ready to be used for training new journalists.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“Who else is the master of asking the best questions?” Jodi shrugged.

I should’ve been jumping for joy right then, but I could only think about Nigel. I wasn’t nervous; however, I was definitely distracted.

I walked into the review room and sat in the hot seat. The hot seat was a red chair positioned at the front of the room. There were no other seats on either side.

All journalists, except those sitting in the hot seat, sat in the back of the room and wrote their critiques. This method could be intimidating, especially for new journalists, but we had one rule: all feedback must be constructive criticism, and no negative feedback was allowed.

The purpose of the hot seat was to promote growth, and it was less nerve-wracking when you weren’t sitting in the back of the room watching your colleagues write critiques about your work.

Nancy turned off the lights and started the video. Seeing Nigel on the screen immediately sent chills down my spine. He looked more muscular on camera.

"Whew, he is smoking hot!" shouted Dani.

"I wouldn't have been able to keep my composure. You had to have at least one steamy fantasy about Nigel during the interview," interjected Jane.

Oh, crap! Could my colleagues pick up on the sexual tension? No, surely they couldn’t. It was just the beginning of the interview.

"Alright, everyone, settle down. We don't want Sophie to feel embarrassed," Nancy yelled overtop of everyone.

Silence fell upon the room as the tape played, and I felt the heat rising to my cheeks. I've always enjoyed watching or listening to my interviews. I'm a self-development junkie, and I'm driven by being the best, even if it means I have to accept uncomfortable feedback.

After ten minutes of viewing my video, Nancy paused the tape and opened the floor feedback.

“You did a fantastic job questioning whether the Billionaires' Secret Society club allowed this interview because their president is running for the governor of Florida; it addresses the motive," Jodi noted.

"I agree. Great work," replied Nancy, clapping her hands.

Nancy continued the video while my colleagues wrote their critiques. After another 10 minutes of viewing the video, Nancy paused the tape and opened the floor for further discussion.

"Well, I, for one, think that Nigel has the hots for Sophie. Did you see the way he said he always gets what he wants?" asked Dani.

"Now, now we're only here to provide feedback about the interview content; let's not jump to conclusions about body language just yet. Besides, it's only a problem if it distracts the interviewer from the interview. You weren't distracted, where were you? Sophie?” Nancy asked, her eyes widening with curiosity.

"Me? No way," I replied, shanking my head.

I wished distraction was the only issue during this interview. I could handle being distracted, but this was different. I was smitten and mentally, physically, intellectually, and sexually by Nigel.

Nancy turned on the lights and finished the review.

"Overall, this was a great interview. You did a great job probing for the club's motive and getting Nigel to share a few details about himself,” she continued. “So, tell us, Sophie, how did you feel during the interview?"

Think, Sophie, think!

I wanted the team to refrain from picking up on any cues of how challenging this interview was. Not that I'd never had difficult interviews, I'd had plenty, but never due to being enthralled by the interviewee's presence.

"Oh. Uh, I felt comfortable. Nigel was engaging but guarded at times. But I also felt, and still think, there's a hidden agenda. If these interviews are to show the public that billionaires are no different from your average Joe, this concept will help boost votes for the governor's race.”

"You could be right," Nancy replied, rubbing her chin in contemplation.

"Isn't it your job to expose the hidden agenda?" Jane sarcastically replied.

I leaned forward and pointed my finger at Jane. "It's my job to –“

"Ok. Ok, ladies. No need to get your panties in a bunch," yelled Nancy, lowering her hands.

“Panties. She said panties." Derrick laughed, pointing at Jane and me.

Derrick could be such a jerk. He was brilliant at writing stories and edititing but had the mind of a teenager, especially in conversations of sexual nature.

Despite knowing the rules, Jane always had something negative to say about my interviews. She'd had it out for me since I started working here, and I didn't know why. I never did anything to her and had even tried to befriend her at one point.

"All right, everyone, we'll meet tomorrow morning again. Go home and get some rest. Elections will start soon, and we have many celebrities to interview, which will shake up the races. We all know that public opinion is now swayed by rumors and the rich and famous, not facts and truth.”

Nancy opened the door and waved her arm, ushering us to leave.

"Oh, by the way. Nigel said he would be open to interviewing a billionaire's lifestyle and invited me to a party tomorrow evening,” I stated, as I was getting ready to leave. “I told him I needed to get it approved by you first."

I clasped my hands together and poked my lips out, praying she’d agree.

Nancy nodded. "Go for it. But try to get more details about some of the secrets of the billionaires," she replied, winking her eye.

Yes!! I rushed out the door and got in the car, filled with excitement on my drive home.

***

Addy was standing in the doorway with two empty wine glasses and a bottle of Moscato in her hand. Addy and I were friends since college.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked, walking towards the door.

Addy's smile was from ear to ear. "I want all the juicy details," she replied, waving the wine glasses in front of her face.

I entered our small cottage and walked toward the living room. My feet stung from walking in the five-inch heels I had worn all day. I flopped down on the couch, letting one arm hang slightly off the couch.

"Why can't I stop thinking about Nigel?" I sighed.

Addy poured the Moscato into the wine glasses and placed the glasses on the table. She then walked to the recliner and sat across from me.

"Hmm, Nigel must be super hot or something special,” she stated, pulling the lever on the chair to lean the recliner back.

“What?” I responded.

“You’re speechless. We’ve known each other for five years, Sophie, and I’ve never seen you speechless after your interviews.”

"I'm speechless because I'm tired," I huffed, grabbing a glass of wine.

Abby was right. I'm never speechless. She knew I loved interviewing people, and I looked forward to sharing all the juicy details with her. I lived for the big moments, such as today, where I got to interview people others didn’t have access to.

I needed to interview people like I needed air to breathe. Listening to people share the intimate details of their life or trying to justify some scandal is why I got out of bed in the morning.

"You're glowing, Sophie," Addy whispered and smiled.

I laughed and accidentally spit out some of my wine. "What? No, I'm not. Why would I be glowing?” I responded, shrugging my shoulders.

Was I glowing? Was my attraction to Nigel obvious? No, it couldn’t be. Besides, he was arrogant, and I could never be attracted to a billionaire. Yet, Nigel had consumed my every thought since I left his office.

"So, will you tell me about this hot billionaire, or did I buy this bottle of wine for nothing?" Addy laughed, pouring more wine into her glass.

"There's not much to tell. Nigel is a nice guy. He talked about himself and bragged about always getting what he wanted." I grabbed the bottle of wine and started reading the ingredients on the back. “Is this a new brand of Moscato? I don't think we've tried this before," I asked, desperately hoping to change the subject.

I didn’t mind telling Addy about my interviews with celebrities or other people. We talked about everything together. However, I couldn’t bring myself to discuss my interview with Nigel. Maybe it was because I was fearful she'd think I was attracted to Nigel because he was a billionaire.

Addy had no problem admitting she desired the finer things in life. I never really cared about material things. ‘We don't have much money, but at least we are happy,’ was one of my mother's favorite quotes. My parents fought about money all the time, and to this day, I'm convinced it significantly contributed to their divorce.

"What else did he talk about?" Abby asked, grabbing the bowl of cheese puffs from the coffee table.

“He wants to show me the lifestyle of billionaire by taking me to a yacht party tomorrow night.”

“Ugh, I love you, but I envy you,” Addy laughed.

I swished my wine around in my glass. “He wants me to call him. And guess what?” I leaned back on the couch and took another sip of my drink.

“What?” Addy replied, scooting to the edge of her seat.

“He gave me his personal number,” I leaned forward and whispered.

“You have to call him. Call him right now,” Addy exclaimed, jumping up and walking toward me. “Call him and put him on speaker. I want to hear his voice.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contacts until I found his name.

“Ok, here it is. Mr. Nigel Smith.”

I took a deep breath and looked at Addy.

“Ugh, hurry up and get it over with,” Addy cried, biting her fingers nails.

I pressed the call signal on my phone and put it on the speaker.

“Hello, this is Nigel Smith.”

His voice was soft and soothing.

“Hi Nigel, this is Sophie. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Sophie. It’s a pleasure to hear from you.”

Addy smiled at me and nudged me with her arm.

“Well, I wanted to let you know my boss approved the interview and I would love to attend your party if the offer is still available,” I noted as professionally as possible.

“Wonderful!” Nigel exclaimed. “Shall I arrange transportation for you?”

I wanted to say, no, but I must admit, I enjoyed riding in the limousine today.

“Uh, sure. I’ll text you the address.”

Addy leapt off the couch and started dancing. I tried not to laugh but she was such a horrible dancer.

“Get ready,” Nigel’s voice came through, capturing my attention. “You’re in for a special treat. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, me too.” I replied, smiling at Addy.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Sophie.”

Nigel’s voice was seductive, and I felt as if I could talk to him forever.

“You too, Nigel. Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone and closed my eyes, envisioning being with Nigel again.

“Are you ready?” asked Addy, continuing what looked to be a rain dance.

“Not at all,” I replied, wondering what the heck I got myself into.

“That’s why I’m here,” she beamed. “Tomorrow we are going shopping.”

Addy grabbed my hand forcing me to dance with her. I was not the best dancer in the world, but I decided to join Addy. It’d been quite some time since I felt this happy, and today I would bask in this moment for as long as it let me.