Elena tilted her head. “No, not all of you. I have identified two staff members as worthy of redeployment within Bartell Corp. But I do not need a journalist with a talent as unpredictable as yours—a talent so pinned to whether she’s feeling her story.”

All Maddie’s rationalisations died on her tongue, as she stared into Elena’s eyes and saw only ice staring back. Cold. Empty. “I don’t know you.” Maddie glared at her and stood to leave.

Elena’s jaw twitched, and a small frown appeared. “I already told you who I was last night. I told you not to bet on my humanity. It’s just you didn’t believe me.” She nudged an open manila folder to one side.

Maddie’s attention fell to it, and she read upside down. It was a press release. The title said “Hudson Shard Announced”. What the hell was a Hudson Shard? A Post-it note was stuck to it.

Received from publicist, Feb 6. Pls approve.

Just under a month ago. Realisation slammed into Maddie. “You never intended to save anyone’s jobs or this paper, did you? You’ve always been planning on turning this building into a skyscraper.”

“This building is ideally sited.” Elena leaned back in her chair. “Close to the heart of New York City, easy transport access. The air above it is worth many more times that of the newspaper below. It will become an office space that will be highly sought after. Possibly a New York landmark by the time I’m done. It will be iconic. Beautiful.”

“So all this time, you’ve been pretending to check out the talent on staff, but, what, you’ve been running surveyors and engineers through? Keeping it on the quiet?”

“Staff tend to do intemperate things when they know they’re about to lose their jobs,” Elena said with a nod. “It’s smart not to reveal your hand to anyone. I told you before, I let nothing get in my way. I play the game well, because I play it smart.”

“Except it’s not a game for us; it’s our lives. And you told us…you said…” She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “You let us believe there was hope.”

“It’s business.” Elena regarded her. “Besides, I can talent spot people at the same time as I talent spot a building’s bones. My development plans were submitted this morning. You were the one who hand-delivered them to me last night. But you can read all about it in the Wall Street Journal tomorrow, along with everyone else.”

Maddie stared at her. “Why would you do this? Get into office space? You’re in the media business!”

“I’m in the profit business. And when I see an opportunity, I seize it. Wherever it might be; whatever it might be.” She gave Maddie an appraising stare. “As I tried to warn you last night—nothing and no one gets in the way of that. You really should have listened.” She slapped the folder shut and gave Maddie a look of finality, tilting her head towards the door. “We’re done.”

A coldness shot through Maddie’s bones. Holding Elena’s hard gaze, she realised she could see nothing at all of the woman she thought she’d known before. She stood. “You really are what they call you,” Maddie said with rising fury. “A calculating, icy, money-hungry bitch of a shark.”

* * *

Three days later, Maddie found herself semi-comatose on the sofa, staring at the debris of several chocolate and Fun Factory benders, and a wall of Simon’s packing boxes. Her head hurt. Stomach too. Not moving ever again seemed like a sound plan.

Her phone rang. With an indignant grumble, Maddie scrabbled around for it and answered.

“She’s going to Australia next,” Felicity’s clipped voice announced without so much as a hello.

“Screw you and your asshole boss.” Maddie slurped the remnants of her bright blue Car Seat Cover concoction.

“Whatever. Look, Style Sydney is in a tailspin, and she wants to fix it before it hurts the whole Style International brand. She’ll need a PA. The one here now is useless. Plus, she wears green eye shadow. Green! God, she makes you look fashionable.”

“Huh?” Maddie peered at her phone. “And you’re sharing this why?”

“Are you interested?”

“In working for Elena? She just fired me!”

“Yes, I am quite aware of that. She fired everyone. Moving on—”

“I’m not the PA type. I don’t do PA-ing. I. Am. A. Journalist.”

“Not. According. To. Elena.”

Maddie was beside herself with frustration now. “Do you not get that she just fired me? I may have also called her a shark.”

“Well.”

“A calculating, icy, money-hungry bitch of a shark.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

Maddie frowned. “Look, I don’t know what Elena wants from me, but—”

“Elena wants someone fluent in kangaroo speak or whatever cultural mangling your people do down there, and she’d prefer someone she knows. And she told me to tell you the position gives you your fondest wish.”

Maddie shook her head. “I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?” She rubbed her bleary eyes. “And what is this fondest wish?”

There was a smug snicker. “A face-saving way to return home.”

“Face-saving? I’d be going back as a PA, not a journalist! An assistant!” Maddie couldn’t believe her ears. “Oh, I get it…” So this was Elena’s revenge for not having the last word and for Maddie calling her a few choice names? Hiring her as her lackey. “She thinks I’m going to give up my career as a journalist to get down on my knees and kiss her a—”

“Ugh! You would be her personal assistant, you idiot. That is hardly giving up anything. That’s a job with status. Surely even your feral, dingo-bred clan from Outer Bog Swamp have heard of Elena Bartell?”

Maddie groaned at the pointlessness of arguing with Felicity Simmons. “Just give me a simple answer to this: why would she want to hire me?”

“She said you’d ask that.”

“And?”

“It’s business.”

Maddie ground her teeth. “Not for me it’s not.”

“Suit yourself. You know I could find a truckload of PAs who would jump at this opportunity. But if you’d rather cling to the delusion you’re cut out for New York when you’re so miserable that even I can see it, and I have no interest in your life whatsoever, then I can’t stop you.”

“Then why not get one of those truckload of PAs to do it?” Maddie said with a snarl. “Tell you what—if Elena Tiger Bitch Bartell wants me to be her personal assistant, she can damn well ask me herself.” She ended the call with a vicious stab of her finger. There.

* * *

An hour later, Maddie mustered the energy to go grocery shopping. She’d just made her way gingerly down the stairs of her apartment building, head thumping, when she spotted a shiny, black BMW slowly creeping up Humboldt Street towards her. Maddie watched it, wondering if the luxury vehicle was lost. Unless it was stopping by Bruno’s next door for a service?

It pulled up, and a familiar driver stepped out.

“Ms Grey?” Amir said.

She looked at him. Then at the car. Then at him again. Her not entirely sober brain struggled to process what she was seeing.

Finally, the back passenger window rolled down. Elena peered at her through dark sunglasses. “I’m a busy woman. Can we move this along?”

“Move what along?”