The seconds dragged past, seemingly in half time. She couldn’t see the timer from where she was sitting; she couldn’t tell how long they had to go . . . She held her chin up, trying to keep her breathing steady. She tried to think about her first question, but everything had gone out of her head. He had disrupted her routine, quite deliberately. She knew this was all part of his intention to throw her off-balance; these were the games he played, the ones Cory had told her about. Not just attraction tactics – if he couldn’t win outright, he played dirty. He had done it back then and he was still doing it.

The red light came on. With a visible sigh of relief she held the board out so that it was within shot of the camera and clapped it shut. Slowly, gathering herself, she put it down by the legs of her chair and turned back to face him; she forced herself to meet his eyes.

‘So,’ she smiled.

‘. . . So.’

*

‘I know you’re a reluctant interviewee,’ she said with impressive understatement. ‘So I thought we’d do some warm-ups, have a bit of fun with it.’

‘Fun?’ He frowned, his expression completely deadpan. ‘I’m not sure I’m familiar with the concept.’

She smiled, but thinking about it, when had she seen him actually having fun in all the time she’d been here? Even last night, compared to everyone else, he’d still been muted. ‘Let’s start there, then. What do you do for fun?’

He arched an eyebrow, staring at her with a look that told her immediately. ‘. . . Are you sure that’s the kind of material you want in the film?’

Flustered, she looked down at her notes. She could feel him smirking. It was the second time in this interview alone that he had alluded to their ‘mistake’, weaponizing it against her.

‘Tell me something about yourself that the public wouldn’t know,’ she said instead, lifting her eyes to his again, knowing it was unavoidable. In spite of his games, she had to find a connection with him. Establish genuine trust. And fast.

He inhaled slowly. ‘I’m good at chess.’

She blinked, seeing how the smirk had climbed into his eyes, like a cat at a window. ‘Give me a contradiction about you.’

He thought for a moment. ‘I like the smell of cigarette smoke, but I don’t smoke.’

‘What are you frightened of?’

‘Fear itself.’

It was a pat response. Meaningless. ‘Something else.’

‘Spiders.’

Bullshit, she thought, smiling back. ‘Tell me your earliest memory.’

He looked down for a moment, having to think more deeply. ‘My mother’s face.’

‘What’s the best thing about being on a board?’

‘Going fast.’

‘What was the best moment of your life?’

‘Moving to Oz.’