Brooklyn leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other as she studied Darren with sharp, calculating eyes.
She was a reporter. She'd spoken to many people so it was easy not to take offense to somethings, but that one stung.
"I do what I do for my job. There's basically no risk I wouldn't take for a good story."
Darren exhaled through his nose. "And that's exactly the problem with you journalists."
Brooklyn tilted her head. "You don't like journalists?"
"It's not that I don't like you," he said, his voice flat. "I just know exactly what your kind does. Nothing you won't do for a good story. That also includes lying and manipulating. For you people, truth means nothing when a headline is at stake."
Brooklyn smirked. "You wound me."
Darren said nothing, waiting for her to get to the point. But she wasn't done poking around just yet.
Her gaze flicked around the room before settling back on him. "However, I am fairly confused, Darren Steele.
