Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“You’re up, boss,” Andy says. “Break a leg.”
I walk into the studio. Cynthia is renowned for flirting with guests, a woman of around thirty with a bob of blonde hair and a healthy – or the opposite, depending on a man’s perspective – layer of plastic surgery. She crosses her legs, raising a stenciled eyebrow suggestively at me.
Behind the camera, my PR manager is giving me a serious evil eye. Her suggestion was that I flirt with Cynthia because it will make me seem more human, approachable, and that’s what we need right now. But the thought of flirting with her feels like a betrayal to Sera: a betrayal to the woman who refuses to text me back.
“Are you ready?” Cynthia asks.
I adjust my tie. “Sure.”
“You can take that off if you’d be more comfortable.”
“I’m fine,” I say stiffly.
“Have it your way.” She flutters her eyelashes. I’m sure she’s used to men fawning over her… and she is. “Ready for the countdown? It’s not live, but I like my guests to be comfortable.”
It’s not live, meaning she can cut it any way she wants, meaning I have to be on my A-game.
After the countdown, she becomes even more animated, gesticulating so that her shiny bracelets catch the light. I wonder if this is a purposeful tactic to blind and disorient her guests. Because it’s working.
“Luke Cross, I have to say, this is an absolute pleasure.” She beams. “For a long time, you’ve been the enigmatic playboy of the tech world.”
“I’ve never been a playboy,” I say, and my PR manager glares at me like she wants my head to explode.
“Forgive me,” Cynthia goes on. “A turn of phrase I’m too accustomed to. You’ve certainly been enigmatic, though, releasing a series of wildly successful self-driving cars, rarely giving interviews or seeking the spotlight.”
“Being a CEO is about hard work,” I tell her. “With billionaires seeking the limelight and clambering of their fifteen minutes, obsessed with politics and social media clout, it’s easy to forget that. But real work happens in the dark; genuine work happens during long stints in the mine—”
“Yes, well,” she cuts me off. “You’ve got your fifteen minutes now… with me. A more polite man might say thank you.”
It’s only when she leans forward that I realize how close the chairs are. A waft of perfume attacks me. Nothing compared to Seraphina’s natural scent. I try to get my Sparkplug out of my head, but it’s impossible.
When Cynthia tries to touch my arm, I lean away as much as my chair will allow. It must make for a strange sight. I appear as if I’m trying to run from her. She frowns.
“Do I stink?”
“No,” I say stiffly.
“So I smell nice, then?”
More glaring from my PR manager. “Yes, you… uh, you smell nice.” What the hell am I even saying? I regret it instantly, especially when she grins as though she’s won a victory.
“How has this recent disaster affected your dating life?”
“I’ve never had much of a dating life.”
“If you play your cards right, that could change…”
“Doing the right thing,” I go on, side stepping her comment entirely, “is what I attempted. I knew I had to be honest. The truth had to be revealed by me. I still believe this AI model has the potential to improve people’s lives drastically.”
Bored, she sighs. Almost reluctantly, she says, “Okay, so how could AI make your cars even better?”
“AI has the potential to adapt to a person’s personal driving preferences. Instead of relying on decision trees, it will learn traffic patterns, sense the best courses of action, prevent accidents…”
“Or go rogue,” she says. “How can you be sure something like this won’t happen again?” She laughs. “See… isn’t it much more fun when we talk about dating instead?”
“Someone tampered with the AI’s speech patterns—its personality, if you will. We are working to ensure this never happens again.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” She yawns melodramatically. “But what about taking steps to ensure that a certain interviewer doesn’t go to bed alone tonight, hmm?”
“That interview was a disaster,” I groan an hour later, pushing the weight bar as Victor – strong as an ox for his age – spots me. “When she finally tired of speaking about the AI, which didn’t take long, she just wanted to flirt with me.”
Victor helps me rack the bar. “Isn’t that a good thing? That’s what your team wanted, isn’t it? That’s Cynthia Linx’s modus operandi.”
“But…” I walk to the edge of the private gym, grab my towel, and wipe the sweat from my face. I can feel Victor staring at me. We haven’t got long until it’s shower time, then more interviews.
“You’re thinking about the girl.”
“Her name is Sera,” I snap. “She’s not just a girl. She’s…”
Victor approaches, the solid, tall, muscular man I remember from when I was a kid, with those same kind eyes. “Listen, son, you’ve been on your own for a long time. Then you finally found somebody who turned your head. Who made you feel alive? I can’t blame you for throwing yourself into it—”