5

Janus waves his hand. "Yeah, well I'm going to kill because I think you're buying time." He studies the ground, and through the top of his disheveled head I can see the white teeth of his smile, then he looks at me from under his eyelashes. It's a real flirt. If he wasn't so cute, it would be painful.

My mind is spinning. "You know" – I look at the floor numbers slowly rolling out on the console and pretend to think seriously about what I'm saying – "I've never met you before, and that was a real honor, but you need to stop doing all the standard guy pickup moves. They are way too obvious. Do most girls you meet fall for this sort of thing? Is this the approach you use to get everyone to say yes to you?

Tilting his head back, he bursts out laughing.

"I think I'm a little rusty." He nods for emphasis. "Maybe you could help me with my technique." What is your method for getting people to say yes?

"Scribbles on paper," I deadpan. "What I write is actually nonsense, but the techies who run companies like to sound smart and it works every time. The more complex and incomprehensible the drawing and lines, the better.

Janus' face is a picture as he bursts out laughing.

"You were particularly gullible." My smile slowly spreads across my face. "You actually came and looked at it closely. Although I'm rather disappointed that you thought it was real; I use it as a standard intelligence test. I try to look dejected as I lean toward him, lowering my voice in what I hope comes across as regret. "I'm not sure you nailed that one."

He cups her face in his hands, fingers digging into the corners of her eyes, and lets out a growl from the back of his throat. The sound echoes, making me think of warm, bare skin and burning hands, and heat rises up my neck again.

"Tell me the card was real, please ," he mutters, looking up at the ceiling as if in prayer and running his hands over his face.

I can't help the big smile that spreads across my face. "Yes, I'm making fun of you. It was genuine, but" (I circle his face with a finger) "I like that answer so much that I could happily start a rumor that it's one of my tricks..."

I can say I'm grinning like a maniacal idiot, enjoying the joke far too much to make any sensible comment.

"Has anyone told you you're crazy?" He responds to my broad smile with one of his own.

Like my mother? The thought is there before I can crush it. I swallow it and wave my hand at him in a gesture of rejection. "Yeah Yeah. But is there another way to be? You can't be reasonable in this business.

Janus tilts his head to the side. "You know, I like you," he said, and I'm pretty sure he didn't mean it out loud. He looks away and bites his lip, a slight shade of pink resting on his cheekbones.

Yes, but how long would you want me? I'm not much of an arm candy.

We are rescued by the elevator stopping and I jump like a cat avoiding a sprinkler in a nearly empty lobby. I say the first thing that comes to mind: this is not a strategy that usually works for me.

"I'm sorry about earlier." It bursts before I can stop it.

He frowns as we walk through the atrium towards the doors.

"What do you mean? In the elevator?

"No... well, yes... in the elevator, of course. It was so stupid to pretend not to recognize you. The words stumble too quickly. "But I meant at the meeting. You made a comment about my card and I guess I... I guess I thought you were being sarcastic about producing a silly little drawing.

"Ah, that!" His face relaxes. "I was wondering why you looked so...weird."

"Yeah, I'm sorry." I have one small complaint about guys who ridicule what I do: a surprisingly common experience for a woman working in this industry. They don't expect me to understand anything and are often thrown off when I do.

Janus shakes his head. "No need to apologize, I have faced enough prejudice in my time about my age, my appearance, my reputation, my hair . We are told that things "aren't possible," that we should "take the time and think about it." » He makes air quotes with his hands. "As you can probably tell, my nickname around here is Mr. Impatient, although no one says it to my face; They all call me that behind my back. I'm furious half the time, and don't get me started on how often I yell at people.

I can imagine him doing all that. "Glad I'm not the only one."

"What are you yelling at people too?" Somehow I can't imagine this.

His wide smile reaches down to my toes and my head goes blank, without even a hint of a coherent reply. I mumble a "no," turning desperately to focus on where we're going. I'm so unhinged here – I say inappropriate things, I turn into a babbling idiot. God help me.

We exit the building and I raise my hands above my head as a downpour hits my shoulders. Traffic rushes by, cars throwing cascades of water onto the sidewalks of hurrying pedestrians.

3

JANUS

T

talking to Jo Williams is like hanging on to a bare electrical wire. I stayed spying on reception, waiting for my team to disappear, hoping to catch them before they disappeared. When I first saw her in the lobby, I looked at her pink lips and tight skirt and acted like a typical guy: who was -what was riding in my elevator ? But then she made fun of me and came to my date. So far everything is interesting . But then this card ? This girl is glowing from the inside out and every hair on the back of my neck feels like it's standing up. I haven't met a woman like her in a long, long time.

Over the past few years, I've dated a lot of beautiful, self-obsessed women. Andi, who spent all night filming key scenes for his films. Melissa, who spent the evening on her phone posting photos, checking likes and filming everything : the meal, me, the waiter, the event, me again, kissing her on the plays, holding her hand, lifting it and swinging it . Mad. None of these ladies eat . I mean, I get what running my own business gives me, but what do I do ? They care about my position, my money, or who they think I should be. They want to go to parties and be seen. They don't know me and don't care about the things I care about. Nothing that comes out of Jo Williams' mouth is boring or predictable.

I look at her soft red hair and laughing green eyes as the rain turns her shoulders from light blue to dark blue and I can't look away. Am I a wolf? I don't feel like it, but the media has painted my reputation in a particular light, and I know, first of all, Jo Williams is definitely not that kind of woman, and, secondly, I could totally scare.

"I should have brought an umbrella," I said, smiling in the pouring rain, doing my best to be charming. "Where would you like to go?"