Chapter 2 - The Perfect Lie

Marcus

She's lying.

The thought hits me the moment Sophia Sterling settles into the leather chair across from my desk, crossing those long legs with practiced elegance. Everything about her screams wealth and privilege.

The Hermès bag, the perfectly tailored suit, the way she holds herself like she owns the world. But there's something underneath all that polish, something that doesn't quite fit.

I've been in this business long enough to spot the tells. The way her eyes dart to the exits when she thinks I'm not looking. The slight tension in her shoulders that suggests she's ready to run. The calculated vulnerability in her smile that's just a fraction too perfect.

Most importantly, there's the way she looks at me. Not with the desperate hunger of my usual clients, but with the sharp assessment of someone taking my measure. Like she's the one conducting an interview.

"So, Ms. Sterling," I say, leaning back in my chair and letting my gaze travel over her face. "Tell me what you're really looking for."

Her smile falters for just a millisecond before snapping back into place. "I thought I made that clear. Companionship. Someone who sees past the surface."

"Mmm." I tap my pen against my notepad, a habit that tends to make people nervous. Sure enough, her eyes track the movement. "And what makes you think you won't find that through conventional means? Dating apps, social circles, that sort of thing?"

"Have you ever tried being a tech heiress on a dating app?" she asks, and there's genuine amusement in her voice now. "Half the men who swipe right are looking for a sugar mama, and the other half are intimidated by my bank account before they even meet me."

It's a good answer. Believable. The kind of problem a woman like Sophia Sterling would actually have. But something about the way she delivers it feels rehearsed, like she's practiced this conversation in the mirror.

"Fair point," I concede. "Though I have to ask. Why Platinum Connections specifically? There are other high-end matchmaking services in the city."

Her hesitation is so brief I almost miss it. "Your success rate is impressive. And your discretion is legendary."

"Both true." I set down my pen and lean forward, bracing my elbows on the desk. "But that's not why you're here, is it?"

The question hangs in the air between us, and I watch her face carefully. I see a flicker of something that might be panic, quickly suppressed. Her fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on her purse strap.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she says, but her voice has cooled considerably an there’s an edge of defensiveness to it.

"I think you know exactly what I mean." I keep my tone conversational, almost friendly. "You're not here looking for love, Ms. Sterling. You're here looking for something else entirely."

For a moment, I think she's going to bolt. Her body tenses like a coiled spring, and I can practically see her calculating the distance to the door. But then she surprises me by laughing. A genuine sound that transforms her entire face.

"Well, shit," she says, dropping the polished accent for something more natural. "How long have you known?"

"Since you walked in." I can't help but smile at her reaction. Most people would keep lying, keep trying to sell the story. But she's got brass, I'll give her that. "The question is, what are you really after?"

She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her weighing her options. Finally, she seems to come to a decision. "I'm a journalist. Investigative reporter for the Tribune. I'm working on a story about high-end matchmaking services."

It's still a lie, but it's closer to the truth. I can see it in the way she relaxes slightly, like she's relieved to drop at least part of her pretense.

"And you chose to go undercover rather than simply request an interview?"

"Would you have given me one?" she challenges.

"Probably not," I admit. "Bad for business, having reporters sniffing around."

"Exactly." She leans forward, and I catch a hint of her perfume. Sultry, but not overwhelming. "Look, I'm not here to write a hit piece. I'm genuinely interested in how this world works. The psychology behind it, the success stories, the challenges. It's human interest, not scandal."

Another lie, but she's getting better at them. She’s more comfortable with the current fiction than the previous one. If I didn't know better, I might almost believe her.

"And if I asked you to leave right now?"

"Then I'd leave," she says without hesitation. "But I'm hoping you won't. I think this could be mutually beneficial."

"How so?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm probably going to be your most interesting client in months." Her smile turns wicked, and for the first time since she walked in, I see something real. Something that makes my pulse quicken in a way that's entirely unprofessional. "And for another, I'm excellent at keeping secrets."

The irony isn't lost on me. Here I am, conducting my own investigation under false pretenses, and she's offering to keep my secrets while hiding her own.

"What kind of access are you looking for?" I ask, already knowing I'm going to regret this decision.

"The full experience. Dates, events, the whole nine yards." She pauses, tilting her head slightly. "Unless you have something to hide?"

It's a dare, pure and simple. And despite every instinct screaming at me to show her the door, I find myself intrigued. There's something about Sophia Sterling, or whatever her real name is, that nestles under my skin like trouble with a smirk.

"All right," I say, reaching for my appointment book. "But we do this the right way. Full background check, psychological evaluation, the works. If you want the authentic experience, you get the authentic process."

"Deal." She extends her hand, and when I take it, that same electric shock runs through me. "Should I be worried about what you'll find?" she asks mischievously.

"That depends," I say, holding her hand just a beat longer than necessary. "Should I be worried about what you're really looking for?"

Her smile is sharp enough to cut glass. "I guess we'll find out."

As she leaves, I watch her go, admiring the confident stride and the way she carries herself. Whatever game she's playing, she's good at it.

But I'm better.

And I'm going to find out exactly what Sophia Sterling is hiding, even if it kills me.