Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Holy shit. No way.”
“Do you know anything about him?”
“Um, have you lived with your head in the sand? We work for the biggest architecture magazine in the country, and he’s the most famous one of our lifetimes. I mean, for God’s sake, Layla, half of the appeal alone is surrounding the secretive millionaire heartthrob behind it.”
Lifting my hands, I cover my face with a groan. “So, I’m just the idiot who landed a huge story by default?”
“Pretty much. This project has been all over the news. The fact that Walker gave this to you is beyond huge. I thought you heard of the A.I. Residency project.”
“Yeah, I totally know all the deets.” I lower my hands and wink at her.
She, in turn, rolls her eyes at me. “You’re such an ass.”
Pivoting my chair, I look at her straight on. “So, what exactly do I need to know about this guy?”
I see Mara’s eyes widen just a bit. “Okay, I don’t know that much, but from what I’ve heard, not only is he an arrogant recluse, but apparently, if the rumors within the industry are true, he’s a coldhearted asshole.”
“No way.”
“Listen. Again, I don’t know him, but I can tell you what I heard, and he is supposedly dreadful to work for. Awful to the press and, quite frankly, horrendous to the women he dates.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Well, the dating part is really all speculation in the tabloids. No one ever sees him with a woman outside of the standard step-and-repeat event pictures.”
“And the rest?”
“I’m not sure about everything, but I’m pretty sure the rumor that he’s a coldhearted asshole comes from the fact that apparently, and again, this is just hearsay—”
I stand from my chair, placing my hand on my hip. “Just spit it out, Mara.”
This is Mara; every story takes longer than the last. There is always tangent after tangent.
“Oh, yeah, okay, so the man doesn’t show emotion and has never been seen to even laugh. They actually say he’s some sort of a freak.”
“Wait, really?”
“No, not really. Or, like, maybe. He’s a ghost. He has no history from before he broke out onto the scene and then bam, he took over the architecture world.”
“But why use the word freak? He’s drop-dead gorgeous in this brochure picture.”
“Ohhhh, someone has the hots already. No, he’s a freak because, who never laughs? Never smiles? Has no relationship with anyone? And it has to be true because you can’t be that rich and famous and the tabloids miss out on taking your picture with a hot woman or man hanging on your arm like candy.”
“Okay, so I know nothing about the reclusive Mr. Archer. This should be fun. I gotta go get the car, run home to pack, and hit the road. I’ll give you a call when I get up there and settled.”
“Have fun playing with the privileged life and come back with all the words for the best article ever.”
“You got it, bitch,” I say before leaning forward and grabbing my purse from under my desk. Once I have my stuff, I blow Mara a kiss and head out to leave to go home so that I can prepare for my assignment.
At my apartment, I throw together a suitcase, and grab my laptop bag with notebooks, pens, and break open my laptop for a quick search on this property and Cain Archer. Google comes up practically empty. A few pictures here and there, but no drama. No scandal. For a famous person, shouldn’t there be some drama?
It makes no sense.
I have never seen anyone who is as well-known as him with practically no digital footprint.
It’s almost as if the Google search engine has a restriction on his name.
But that would be crazy.
There isn’t much about this elusive man and nothing prior to him opening the architecture firm.
He keeps to himself. I’d expect more from a man with his looks and obvious prestige. I would expect endless pictures of him gracing the internet. A man like him would certainly be seen with a model on his arm at exclusive events surrounding his projects.
The only thing I eventually find is under information on this project. There’s nothing about his personal life, though. No mention of a wife or girlfriend.
Not that it should matter to me. I’m there to interview him, not date him, but it still annoys me. I need to know what motivates and drives this man.
His résumé of world-class architecture and the accolades that have come with it suggests he is a force to be reckoned with, so why doesn’t the research show that?
* * *
Four hours later and I’m lost.
As per usual, I went down a bit of a research rabbit hole on Cain. Now, it’s late in the afternoon, and I swear if I knew I was going to the middle of nowhere, in Upstate New York, I would have packed a lunch and filled up the gas tank one more time.