“You’re absolutely correct,” he tells me. “Your reporting thus far has been beautifully informative. My apologies for implying otherwise.”
I reach for the coffee to pour myself a bit more, and Klaus moves to do it for me.
“It’s fine. I guess I’m defensive too sometimes,” I admit.
“Everyone has their triggers. I’m perhaps overly sensitive about journalists. Rumor-mongering specifically.”
“That… exposé a couple years back?” Immediately I know I shouldn’t have said anything.
“A hundred thousand Swiss francs for defamation was a slap on the wrist,” he says tersely.
I read about the libel suit when I googled Klaus after Abu Dhabi. A few years ago, a European culture magazine made some shocking claims in an article detailing Klaus’s personal life and the loss of his wife.
He went to work at nineteen for Sofia’s father, who owned a successful tech company. Klaus married Sofia and proceeded to work his way up the ladder at the business, SindeZmos, until he ended up in auto racing through a combination of contacts he had in the tech business and in the world of superbike racing, which he did competitively in his youth. Sofia inherited her family’s business just after Klaus joined Emerald. Only a few years later she died, leaving everything to Klaus.
A passage in the article mentioned that “sources close to the family” believed Klaus had only married the rather plain-looking and shy Sofia to get ahead in SindeZmos—a damned tacky line to take, saying a dead woman hadn’t been hot enough to have authentically earned the love of a dashing husband.
But far worse had been a mention—which ended up being pivotal in the lawsuit—of how “according to some,” Klaus may have had a hand in Sofia’s death, speeding her illness along due to aconcern that she might change her will to leave SindeZmos to a nephew.
The nephew turned out to be the source, no surprise. Klaus donated the lawsuit’s award amount to a charity Sofia had loved, the International Rescue Committee.
His continued suspicion toward journalists certainly makes sense. We’re both coming to our cautious friendship with a lot of baggage.
Dammit, though I’m pretty sure I’ve historically never been given equivalent grace by the men in my life, in this moment I study Klaus’s face and see the vulnerable child in him. The young man who didn’t expect to end up where he is.
Recognizing that I’m doing it doesn’t stop me. In my mind, the decision takes root, even while I try to weed it out:From now on, I probably won’t touch on anything that reflects unflatteringly on him duringARJ Buzzepisodes.
Maybe I’ve been primed for the thought by the pain of the rift with Phae, exacerbating my habitual fear of abandonment.
Maybe it’s the powerful, undeniable attraction.
Maybe it’s the lost little girl in me who’ll always be desperate to please.
But… I choose my corner, thinking:
I might need Klaus onmyside as much as he needs me on his.
6
AZERBAIJAN
TWO WEEKS LATER
NATALIA
The Merchant Baku hotel is definitely giving me a strongThis is why I took the jobfeeling. Everything is perfect tonight as I sit in dreamy luxury on my private balcony at a tiny mosaic table with a glass of wine and a light dinner—fruit, pickles, flatbread stuffed with cheese and squash.
Purring traffic glides below in the neon-streaked dusk, and the air somehow smellscolorful—green and gold, a bright warmth like… expectation? How does everything feel so right in this moment, so aligned and welcoming and exciting?
Twirling the stem of my glass, I smile.
Maybe it’s just me.
By which I mean… maybe it’shim.
Despite recognizing the risks, I’m unquestionably falling “in crush” with Klaus. It’s now obvious he’s courting me with the aim of more than friendship. Before I left Shanghai, he sent me twothings “for your flight”—a one-player storytelling card game with gorgeous art nouveau illustrations and a newly published novel by an author I mentioned liking.
When I arrived in Baku yesterday morning and was checking into my hotel, I received a message from him saying things are unusually demanding this race week and he can’t see me in person until the press conference, but “knowing you’re in the same city makes every light sparkle a little brighter.”
