“Whoa, it’s okay. You don’t need to beg. I’ll take it to my grave, I promise.”

“My life is in your hands,” she said, more a question than a statement.

“Hey,” he said, taking her gently by the wrist. “As long as it’s not hurting you, it’s none of my business.”

As long as it’s not hurting you! What a loaded thing to say. Where the hell are you, you biomechanical fuck?

Kaveh put his hand on her shoulder, running the tips of his fingers to the nape of her neck, and smiled that warm honey smile. “We’re on the same team, okay?” he said, giving her neck a tiny squeeze. “Today, I’m just the coach. You’ll do fine, and I won’t tell anyone about . . . that. You have my word.”

She took a breath and nodded, desperately wanting to believe him but unable to really do it. How much he knew put her in an extremely vulnerable position. He must have known that she was completely open to blackmail, that he could destroy her for fun and profit with minimal effort. She didn’t know him well enough to trust him on an emotional level, but she’d put herself in a position where she had no choice but to trust him on a material level. Please, please be the decent person you are presenting yourself to be, she prayed. Please, please don’t be like Nils.

22

22

“The entire segment is scheduled to last seven and a half minutes,” said Laurel Sullivan, the pixie-like producer of The Hot Seat with Satomi Mack. “As you know, it will be broadcast live, so you’ll get visual cues for when your segment is nearly over. We’re doing a basic point-counterpoint, you with a Third Option proponent.”

“Oh.” Cora had really hoped it would just be her being interviewed, at least this first time. She hadn’t exactly been a member of the debate team in high school.

“Satomi will ask one of you a question and will either follow up with a question for the other side, or ask you to respond. Satomi won’t stray outside the preapproved talking points that both you and your opponent have agreed to.”

“She’ll be fine,” said Kaveh.

“And I know this is old hat for you,” she said to Kaveh and looked at Cora. “You’re lucky you’ve got him on your team!”

“Oh, go on,” said Kaveh.

“You’ll do great,” said Laurel. “Hair and makeup is down the hall and to your left.”

Cora nodded, wanting to say something to him about yes, she was lucky to have Kaveh Mazandarani, because he was a famous investigative journalist who wore perfectly tailored blazers and expensive mountain lodge cologne, but her words abandoned her.

“They really were going to throw you to the wolves, huh?” said Kaveh, leading her in the direction of hair and makeup.

“What do you mean?”