Maddie shoved her hands in her jeans pockets, her gaze sliding over the beautiful back before her. The scoop in the back of her dress ended just above the curve of her ass. It was exquisite. The dress, not her ass. Actually, no. Both were. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the beauty of fashion. Especially when it’s right in front of me.”

There was a silence, and Maddie lifted her eyes, finding Elena had been watching her in the window’s reflection. Their gazes locked.

“And how do you know what beauty is if you don’t understand the most basic thing about style?”

“I have eyes.” It came out more as an exhale, and Maddie saw surprise in Elena’s reflection.

Maddie glanced down, unsure what she was doing, because she sure as hell couldn’t be flirting with Elena Bartell. That would be insane. She noticed a silver frame on Elena’s desk. Between pictures of powerful billionaires and elite fashion designers was a photograph of Elena with her husband. She stared at it. At him. His expression was so predatory. Why did the smug bastard always look so hungry? In every online photo she’d ever seen, he always looked the same.

Out of her periphery, she saw Elena turn from the window and notice what Maddie was looking at.

Elena’s face shifted from intrigued to cool. “So…you don’t look Japanese.” Her voice was now all business.

“Uh…no?”

“The next visitor I expected in here was Mihoko Morita. Unless Style Tokyo’s editor-in-chief has become an Australian with a cult-band fetish, you are not her.”

“Oh, well, I think Felicity’s picking her up right now. That’s why I’m here, not her. She asked me to drop this off.” Maddie put the USB stick on Elena’s desk.

“Playing courier? But I thought you were a reporter. Isn’t that what you keep telling me?” She gave Maddie a dissecting look.

“It sounded like an emergency,” Maddie said. “Soooo…uh…you’re welcome.”

She fidgeted. It was weird being in here, in the inner sanctum, seeing how powerful Elena really was. The way the executives had bowed and scraped on their way out. Elena had her own driver and a fancy luxury car and a helipad, for God’s sake, probably with an actual helicopter parked on it. And that dress she was wearing? If it wasn’t worth five figures, she’d be shocked.

Elena studied her for a few moments. “Ah,” she said, eyes glinting. “And now you see.”

“See what?”

“It’s unsettled you seeing me here.” Her tone was wry. “Well, you don’t have to remain, since it makes you uncomfortable.” She gave her fingers a flick in Maddie’s direction, her lips drawing down. She fiddled with some paperwork on her desk. It was incongruous since she was still wearing her killer red dress. Garnet dress. Whatever.

“You’re wrong.”

“What?” Elena lifted her head.

“I mean yes, sure, this place is…well, it’s…”

“Pretentious, you can say it.” Elena’s eyes sparkled.

“I mean, yes, this office is all business. But that’s not you.”

“Oh? And who am I? You think you now know?”

“No, not yet. But I do know this—this place might be your life, but it’s not you. This is just where you rule the world from. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else? Surely ruling the world is more than that?” Elena scrutinised her. “Do you think so little of what I do?”

“No! Yes. I mean… I didn’t intend it that way, and you know it.”

“Do I?” Elena’s gaze was intense. “You know what they call me, don’t you? All the names? Not to mention all the ruthless things I’m supposed to have done? The rumours are not without foundation.”

“Of course I know what they say. Even if it’s all true, that’s not my point. They’ve left out stuff, haven’t they? You’re not your image. Like, I know you sent Josie home to be with her kid. You didn’t do it because you thought she was infectious.”

Elena gave her a cool look. “Betting on my humanity is not a safe bet, Madeleine.”

“I’ll take that bet anyway.” Maddie lifted her chin. She was met with disbelief, and smiled. Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and headed for the elevator.

The doors opened, and a handsome man stepped out, passing her.

Maddie’s step briefly faltered, as she recognised Elena’s husband. Her neck craned up. The man was impossibly tall.

“Oh, hello.” An assessing gaze drifted over Maddie. It lingered. “I didn’t know Elly had company.”

Elly? Ugh. Maddie turned her attention back to the media boss. Elena’s jaw tightened. Maybe she didn’t like the nickname, either. Or the way he was fixated on Maddie’s chest.

“Richard?” Elena asked. “Why are you here?”

“I was in the neighbourhood.” He finally stopped staring at Maddie’s curves and turned. “Thought I’d see if you’re free. But, honey, what a perfect dress.” He gave a low, dirty chuckle. “Lemme have some of that.”

He strode over to her, slid his arms around her, pivoted her around, and gave her a sudden, thorough kiss. As he did so, he kept his gaze firmly fixed on Maddie, who was frozen to the spot.

Whatever he saw on her face seemed to amuse him. He pointedly slid his hand to his wife’s ass and gave it a possessive squeeze.

Maddie shot into the elevator, sparing herself the vision of whichever of Elena’s body parts Richard was going to brand next with his wandering hands.

Clearly, Elena’s taste in dresses did not extend to husbands.

CHAPTER 8

Miss Bartlewski

Elena leaned back in her Philippe Starke designer chair, having changed into her original outfit, the garnet dress now back in its bag. Gazing out the window, she contemplated plaguing Felicity for an ETA on Mihoko. Perhaps she should spare her chief of staff a meltdown; Felicity was highly strung enough.

She couldn’t focus, thanks to Richard’s over-the-top PDA. Why he still felt the need to fawn all over her in public mystified her. It made her uncomfortable.

Elena assumed it was because he liked to show off his prize catch. She was well aware that her wealth and status made certain men, like Richard, prone to crass preening—but she thought the novelty would have worn off by now, four years on. Tonight, she’d ordered him home only to look over his shoulder and discover the Hudson Metro News’s junior crime reporter had also disappeared.

The memory of Madeleine’s guileless defence of Elena’s humanity also plagued her. The girl was wrong, of course. Elena was ruthless when needed, and that was necessary. Without her tiger shark alter ego, she’d have been eaten alive in business years ago. These days, she slipped into the persona without thought. That Madeleine insisted on trying to find something more was…unsettling.

She hated this feeling. Elena had no time for wide, trusting eyes that seemed to beg friendship from her. No time for cute, clever wordplays that blurred the lines between admiration and something else.

Did Madeleine Grey truly not understand? Didn’t she grasp what she was in Elena’s world? An employee. A disposable one at that, who—just like all the others who didn’t meet expectations—could be discarded at any time, if business required it.

Clearly, this was her own fault. Elena had been too lax, allowing the young woman to see more of her than she should. She should have snapped Madeleine back into line weeks ago. Why hadn’t she? Why had she allowed a rapport to develop between them, knowing the fate that awaited?

Because she was interesting company, the little voice at the back of her brain whispered. Because she treated Elena like a woman worth getting to know, not a powerful contact to cultivate. Because the curious Australian was one of the few people on earth who seemed to genuinely like being around Elena. And, deny it as she might, because it made no sense at all, the feeling was mutual.

Even so, for all Madeleine’s earnest speeches, she had no clue at all who Elena really was. But to be fair, who did? Not even her oldest friend, Perry, or her past or current husbands knew the whole truth.