“I’ll get some ice.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll call her a cab as well. She can deal with it at home.”

Maddie shook her head at Felicity’s callousness and went to the office kitchen anyway. After finding ice at the back of the freezer, she wrapped it in a kitchen towel. Maddie headed back, ignoring Bartell’s cool gaze from within her office, and handed over the cold package to the PA, who was now in her seat. Huge, tear-stained eyes greeted Maddie.

“Thanks,” the assistant whispered, placing it on her ankle. “It hurts like hell. And Elena just fired me.”

“Oh,” Maddie said. “Well, she does that. A lot. Or so I’m told.”

The wet eyes in front of her went wide, her focus lifting to behind Maddie’s shoulder.

She turned and found Bartell a foot behind her, regarding them.

“I believe you have work to do,” she said to Maddie. “I understand nursemaid is no closer to the duties of a journalist than personal assistant is. Or have I misunderstood your job description as you explained it to me?”

Maddie patted the younger woman’s leg gently and rose. “She was in pain.”

“As was I who had to listen to her wailing.”

Maddie gave her a dark look and returned to her desk. Of all the rude, insufferable, unfeeling bitches. She shot a mutinous glare over her shoulder.

The security guard with muscles up to his nostrils had arrived to help the wounded woman out of the building. Bartell was ignoring the entire scene, back at her computer, a look of indifference on her face.

Christ. Elena Bartell was not just a cold fish, but snap-frozen sushi.

Maddie shifted her attention back to work. She was due to write an obituary. Some teacher had died after fifty years in service. Maddie had to choose people who would resonate with their audience—such as business leaders, celebrities, sporting stars—but they did leave it up to her when no one famous had died. Mrs Mavis Swenson looked as if she’d lived a life of mundane, until Maddie read what her children had listed as her hobbies. Mountain climbing? Abseiling? She put Maddie to shame.

Maddie was twenty-six, and her career misstep had cost her so much time. She’d lost two and a half years doing a level-four certificate in hospitality and catering management so she could step into her family’s business. Instead, she’d switched to a journalism degree six months before she was due to get the diploma. Her parents had been appalled, begging her to at least finish the course. She hadn’t seen the point. Six more months doing something she hated? No thanks. The downside of changing careers was that she now felt like the oldest junior reporter in history, and she was still treading water.

A few hours later, a flash of blonde in her vicinity caught her eye. Felicity was trying to explain to a temp what her duties would be. Not that she was doing a particularly thorough job.

“That’s Elena’s office. She is God. Do what God says, whatever she says, and we won’t have a problem. Understood? Good. Now get the chai latte order I wrote out for you. Go!”

When the woman disappeared, Felicity flopped down at her desk with an aggrieved sigh.

“How do you even get any work done if all you do is induct new PAs and temps?” Maddie asked, swivelling her chair to face Felicity.

“I’d get a lot more done if the dead-people writer would stop bothering me.”

Maddie ignored the dig. She was realising by now that this passed as Felicity almost being friendly. “Hey, what do you actually do for your boss? You’re not a PA, because you keep hiring them for her. I’ve narrowed it down to somewhere between ‘whatever Elena wants’ and ‘something to do with law’. So which is it?”

“Both. I’m her personal chief of staff. I have an MBA and a Harvard law degree. I could have set up my own practice.”

Maddie stared at her. She seemed too young for all that. “Then why didn’t you?”

Felicity gaped at her. “Be serious. Look at who I’m working for! I’m witness to some of the most crucial media moves made this century. I’m the woman that almost a hundred attorneys from all over the world call when they have business with Elena. I keep the Titanic headed away from the icebergs, thank you very much.”

“Oh? A hundred attorneys? I mean…is that supposed to be good?”

“Oh my God, can you really be this…this…Australian? Elena is a business legend. And I’m her right-hand woman. She relies on me. I’m at the cutting edge of everything. I prep contracts for signing, and I advise on risk assessments of business acquisitions. Like this one.” She waved at the newsroom.

“So you’re why she’s here? You told her to buy this place?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I did no such thing. If I had my way, this pitiful paper would be at the bottom of the Hudson. It was in a bundle of mastheads she picked up for a song. Some of the other publications in the bundle had merit.”

“So if this place is such a hole, why is she even debating keeping it? And spending six weeks thinking about it—which seems a long time for someone like her.”

A mystified look crossed Felicity’s face. “Elena is a brilliant businesswoman. I’m certain her strategy will reveal itself. Even if someone can’t see it, she always has it. She thinks ten steps ahead of the rest. I’m learning a lot here. It’s an incredible opportunity.”

“Yeah?” Maddie studied her for a moment. “Then why do you always look so miserable?”

There was a soft snicker of laughter from the glass office behind Felicity, and both women froze. Panic filled Felicity’s eyes, as she silently implored Maddie to tell her whether Bartell had overheard their conversation. Maddie’s eyes lifted and locked on directly with Bartell’s. Oh shit. She’d heard all right.

Maddie lowered her gaze back to Felicity’s and gave the faintest nod. The woman lost all colour from her cheeks. Maddie wanted to give her a shake. She took her job way too seriously. Of course, at least Felicity had a job. And she had a great career path and future prospects, all working for someone she worshipped. Because make no bones about it, the woman was head over heels for her boss. Or at least madly in love with the idea of her.

Sucks to be her, Maddie thought sympathetically, and reached back for Mrs Swenson’s file. Oh great. Mount Kilimanjaro by the time she was thirty.

Nope, Maddie had no right to be judging Felicity Simmons. Or anyone else.

* * *

A flood of tears greeted Maddie when she arrived at work the next day. She discovered the woman from Finance, Josie something, being patted on her back by colleagues.

“What’s your boss done now?” Maddie dumped her bag on her desk and turned to Felicity, who had an expression of pure irritation on her face.

The chief of staff shot Maddie a frosty glare. “Of course you’d blame her. Actually, that Josie woman’s child got sent home from school with some disease involving large quantities of vomit. The father’s home with the boy, but I gather your news boss is insisting Josie stay and file her copy on the New York City executive budget, not go home to her son. I dread to think what sort of copy she’ll file anyway. But, frankly, this is all on her. She should have thought of all this before she had kids.”

Maddie choked on the absurdity of the statement. She wondered if Felicity’s ballet-dancer bun was too tight. “Uh, what? Josie should have worked out before she had kids that one day her son would get sick and that would conflict with a big news story? Does that make sense in your head?”

“Please. Parents play the parent card far too often. They get all the holidays off, are always going home early or to the school for some play or concert or whatever. You don’t see me wailing because someone in my family has a sniffle. If you’re serious about your career, it’s simple: don’t procreate.”

“Felicity.” Bartell’s voice was even chillier than her glare, as she leaned out of her office. “Where are the London contracts? And why is my latest temp missing? I need her. Now.”

Felicity flew off her chair as though it was scalding. “Elen… I-I’ll just go and track her down. I think she was trying to work out the photocopier.” She scampered off.

“What is that noise?” Bartell frowned. She took a few steps out of her office, and her gaze drifted to the inconsolable woman, who was now attempting two-fingered typing between wiping streams of tears away.

“The finance writer,” Maddie said. “Josie. Doing the budget story.”

“Must be a terrible budget.”

Maddie bit back a snort of laughter, unsure whether she was serious.

“She’s making a scene. Unacceptable.” Bartell stalked towards the distraught woman.

All eyes in the office swung to watch, as Bartell Corp’s imposing boss rapped on the hard drive tower on Josie’s desk to get her attention. “What is this?” Bartell said, voice tight. “You are at work and have a diseased child?”

“W-what?” Josie sniffed.