บททั้งหมดของ The Fontaines of Hollywood series: The Secret to Seduction: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

I'm not normally a spaz, I promise. And I'm not normally the sort of girl who makes a fool out of herself trying to pick up guys at the local bar. Usually, I'm just Felicia Liddle, an all-around normal sort of person.Except that I write for Celebrity Spark, one of the country's premier celebrity news publications. Working there has been my goal from the moment I graduated from college - where I doubled up in Journalism and Psychology - and my dream ever since I was old enough to read the tabloid covers at the supermarket.Yeah, I'm that girl you've seen buying an armload of celeb magazines and frozen dinners at the checkout counter. And no, I'm not ashamed of it. I make no secret of the fact that I'm fascinated by celebrity culture (and fascinated by our culture's fascination with celebrity culture) even if it's not exactly something most people go around bragging about. But I worked my ass off to land this job. It took me five years of busting my butt at internship after internship

Why did I have the feeling that my new boss had just played me?"Snagging an interview with Luca Fontaine would be a feat, considering his general attitude toward interviews," he said, walking over to the table and leaning against the chair next to mine. "How exactly do you plan to do it? I'm assuming he hasn't already consented?"God, I hadn't realized how tall he was until he was towering over me. Between that and those eyes, my voice wanted to die in my throat. Besides - this was where my plan got sticky. But Roman Everet was asking me questions, which meant he was at least entertaining the idea of letting me try. I just needed to give him a reasonable answer and then I could work on the real plan later.Unfortunately, no answer - reasonable or otherwise - was popping into my brain. It was hard enough to get Emilia to agree to an interview with me, as unimportant as I am, and as Mr. Everet so kindly pointed out, she was usually eager to talk to the press. But as the silence stret

My new boss stares at me, eyebrow raised in a question."I mean it," I repeat. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong, Mr. Everet.""Roman.""What?""Call me Roman."Using his first name makes this worse. It makes it... intimate. At least when he was "Mr. Everet" I could sort of pretend he wasn't a real person. The formality made it safer. Easier. But that's not exactly something I can explain to the man in front of me."Okay," I say. "Roman. I'd like to hear what you think I'm doing wrong."He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he takes a long, slow drink, and I can't decide if he's giving me one last chance to walk away or if he just likes to watch me squirm. Finally, he puts his glass down."It's too much," he repeats."What is?""Everything. The way you're dressed. The way you try to get the attention of these men. It's coming off as desperate.""Desperate?" Oh, God. I mean, I know I feel desperate, but I didn't realize everyone else could see it.But Roman isn't finished."

Chuck's not much of a conversationalist. Or maybe he's figured out that I couldn't name a single professional baseball player if my life depended on it. Either way, he doesn't say a word to me. And I, panicked and confused as I am, don't say a word to him. I feel like I should comment on the game, to at least try to make this work, but I know that I'll reveal my lie as soon as I open my mouth. And all I can think about is how Roman is watching me, waiting for me to make my move. The pressure is building with every passing second. I need to say something. Anything."What else do you like?" I ask him.He's still looking at the TV. "Hm?""What else do you like? Besides baseball, I mean. And chili fries."He shrugs, still watching the game. "Football. Basketball. Not really into hockey.""Ah." Is he making this hard on purpose? Is he not interested in me after all? If not, then why did he invite me to sit down?I have the urge to look back at Roman again, as if somehow his expression

The way Roman says that I should think of this as an 'opportunity' makes me all tingly.I give a nervous laugh. "An opportunity to humiliate myself?""I was thinking more along the lines of an opportunity to... expand your horizons a little."There's a suggestiveness in his tone, and it makes panic rise in me anew."Tell me," he says, "do you think you're attractive?"That question doesn't make this any easier. "I - I mean, I don't think I'm hideous.""That's not what I asked.""I... I'm pretty enough," I say. "I mean, I'm not going to be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, but I'm not afraid I'm going to die alone or anything." Not yet, anyway. "One day I'll meet a nice guy who thinks I'm beautiful no matter what and we'll settle down and have perfectly average little babies."Roman looks thoughtful. "Is that really what you believe? That you're just 'average'?""Don't say it like that." I fiddle with the edge of the tablecloth. "Objectively speaking, it's the truth. An