Felicity snickered softly. “It was your favourite designers. The Duchamps. Apparently it amused Véronique to put the ‘noxious cafard’ in her place. Natalii supplied the hashtags, including a few ruder ones not fit for print. They’re trending like crazy. I hear Lecoq’s sweating hard now advertisers are pulling out.”
“Cockroaches do have a habit of surviving the apocalypse, though.”
“Or not.” Felicity called up a page on her iPad. “US Review just tweeted a story about the CQ boycott. They have nine million followers. Vanity Fair followed suit. Another five million.”
“Oh. Dear.” Elena trusted her smile was as evil as it felt.
“Right? Check out CQ’s share price today on the back of the boycotts, low circulation, negative publicity, and advertiser withdrawals.” She held up her tablet again.
Elena stared at the plunging arrow. “Seriously?” That really was low. A daring plan suddenly hit. Her fingers tingled. “Can you get me Tom Withers? I might need to make a large outlay soon.”
Felicity’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “Would you?”
“Wouldn’t I?” A hint of mischief laced Elena’s tone. “Tell no one. Speed is of the essence.”
Felicity’s expression was awestruck. “Yes, Elena.” Her voice came out a dry gasp.
* * *
Maddie was beside herself the day her article was out in the US Review. She’d barely slept the previous night, wondering if Elena would hate it. A few hours spent staring at the long, fluttering lashes and quiet intake of breath of the woman asleep beside her hadn’t answered the question. Her lover had refused to read it first, saying only that she trusted Maddie.
The hardest thing had been balancing Elena’s need to be seen as fierce and tough with all the ways Maddie knew she could be generous and kind.
So Maddie had written the truth: How they’d met. Late-night chats in an empty newspaper office. How they’d come to understand each other, two watchful souls connecting, despite being worlds apart. And that gut-wrenching day Elena chose business over Maddie.
Clutching the glossy magazine, Maddie stared at the cover in confusion.
Elena was pictured with the headline: Elena Bartell on love, life, and power: ‘It would be a grave error to take me on’.
What? Maddie hadn’t quoted Elena saying that. She flipped to the story and then gasped. Two first-person articles were sitting beside each other.
The Mogul.
The Journalist.
Elena had written something after all? Since when?
Elena’s piece was a dry, humorous recounting of meeting a “style-deficient reporter from Sydney” and finding her manner to be “blunt to the point of interesting” and her company to be “acceptable despite her refusal to do anything I demanded”.
It was funny. God, Elena so rarely showed this side to the world. The piece also made it crystal clear they’d never been involved while Maddie worked for Elena.
The article also explained how Elena had married because she was expected to. And then she’d found love where she hadn’t expected to. It finished with an explanation.
“I write this piece solely to correct the record. To suggest Madeleine Grey is brainless or a fling is disgusting. Madeleine is an exceptional, award-winning journalist. She is kind, honest, amusing, and beautiful. Madeleine is a remarkable woman whom I love and wish to have in my life forever. That’s all there is to say. The end.”
Holy shit. Maddie grabbed her phone, dialled Elena, and croaked out one word. “Why?”
“Ah, you’ve seen it.”
“You didn’t say a word! And what happened to you not commenting?”
“I didn’t tell you because you might talk me out of it. And I did it because it occurred to me that whatever you’d write would all be about making me sound good. It wouldn’t enter your head to correct the record on you, would it? Having read your piece, I was right.”
“I…oh.”
“So I decided to correct the error.” Elena’s amusement was evident. “Meanwhile, my board issued a statement this morning backing me, condemning Lecoq’s smears, and pointing out Bartell Corp’s stellar success.”
“How does that feel?” Maddie asked quietly. She knew this was what Elena secretly feared: Making a mistake that could see her empire ripped from her. It made sense, since it had happened before, decades ago. Lecoq had stolen Elena’s promised editorship when they’d both worked at CQ. Overnight, Elena’s short career had ended.
“It feels…acceptable.” Background voices murmured and then Elena spoke again. “I was in a meeting with Perry and Felicity when you rang. They’re being very complimentary about your article.” She sighed. “Really Madeleine, did you have to make me sound nice?”
“You are nice!”
“Many would dispute that.”
More disjointed talking. “Felicity has asked me to convey to you that your article was accurate, nuanced, beautiful, and you should stop being smug.”
“What makes her think I’m being—”
“She is quite sure you are.” Elena chuckled. “I’ve shooed them out now. Madeleine, I want to say that Felicity wasn’t wrong. What you wrote was beautiful. I’m constantly amazed you see me that way.”
“Elena, it’s the truth.”
“To you.”
“Is there any other kind? And you can talk! You told the whole world you want me in your life forever.”
“I was merely being accurate.” Elena sniffed for effect. “I’m a big believer in truth in publishing.”
