Elena ceased all movement. “What?”
“They lived on a farm for a bit. To escape Véronique’s scary ex-lover. Philippe the rugby player. He once threw her sewing dummy off a motorway from his Ferrari.”
“Dear God.” Elena rubbed her temple.
“Are you okay?”
“That insane woman says nothing whatsoever to a soul about her private life for three decades, and you get all this out of her? How? What on earth did you do to her?”
Maddie shrugged. “I’m not sure. I was just, um, myself.”
Elena stared at her. Finally she exhaled, nostrils flaring. “That’s what we never tried. Sending a normal person in.”
Maddie laughed. “You think I’m normal?”
“Madeleine, how do you take your coffee?”
“White with two sugars. Um, regular milk I mean. Not soy or skim or any of that stuff.”
Elena gave her a pointed look.
“Oh. Right.”
“Where was I? Oh yes, two issues. We’d promote them extensively in TV, print, and online. You will be famous, Madeleine.”
“I didn’t do it for that.”
“Oh?”
“No. And before you ask, not the money, either. That’s all just…extra.”
Elena looked slightly alarmed. “Are you not sufficiently wooed, then? Are you still not convinced to go with us?”
“You make a good case.” Maddie hesitated. “I was thinking more long-term. I did this interview to get ahead in my career. And, of course, yes, to prove to you I am a journalist. So, while your offer is great and all, it’s just…” She faded out, not sure what she was asking for. Just something different. Less financial. More…
“Ah.” Elena nodded, reached for a piece of paper and scribbled for a few minutes, then pushed it over to her. “The major events of the next twelve months that I will be attending. These will have a large VIP-publishing presence. Sell your story to us, and you will be my guest for the evening at any four of these you choose. I will ensure Bartell Corp flies you to and from them, should you select events not held in Australia.”
Maddie’s eyes slid down the page, widening as she examined the list. Peabody Awards lunch. Matrix Awards. Pulitzer Prize dinner. Time 100 gala. New York Times Fashion Week opening night. Met Gala. Sydney Magazine Publishers cocktail party. American Publishers black-and-white ball.
“As part of the deal,” Elena said, “I would introduce you to the key movers and shakers there and explain all the ways I have found you to be acceptable. Further,” she pulled the page back and wrote another line, “access to Perry’s style expertise and his contacts should you need a dress or four. I can’t have you looking like a sad garage-band reject while at my side.” Elena’s lips quirked the faintest bit.
“God forbid,” Maddie murmured, amazed Elena had even thought of that. She studied the impressive list and slid her eyes back to Elena. “But you wouldn’t mind? Having me as your… guest?”
Elena just looked at her as though she’d said the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.
“Right.” Maddie’s cheeks heated. “Can you give me a few minutes to think about it?”
“Of course,” Elena said with an approving nod. “Take the time you need. I have to check on some things. And I’ll print out the contract Felicity has emailed me, should you decide in Style’s favour.”
She swept out of the room, and Maddie watched her sway of hips with a sudden sinking feeling. She tried to pinpoint why she felt deflated. This was an amazing deal. A career-changing one. Elena wasn’t wrong—it was far and above anything Style Sydney normally paid. Maddie knew, because she’d filed plenty of contracts for her boss.
Elena was also putting a huge amount of faith in her. She hadn’t even heard the Véronique interview. She hadn’t seen Maddie’s writing beyond the short news pieces that Hudson Metro had run. This would be a feature story—two of them, actually—and together they were almost a hundred times longer than anything she’d ever written before. Yet Elena hadn’t questioned that. She’d just assumed Maddie could pull this off. Why?
Maddie slid off her chair and took her plate to the sink, washing it. A click, click noise caught her attention. She glanced down to find a pair of big, brown canine eyes staring up at her.
“So,” she turned off the tap and crouched to greet the knee-high dog, “you must be Oscar.” She allowed him to sniff her with his long muzzle, as she studied his lean features. Then she ruffled his red, pointed ears. Oscar’s tail began to thump.
“You’re beautiful,” she told him, then leaned forward to whisper, “just like your owner. But don’t tell her I said that. It might undermine my negotiating position. Okay? I gotta have some authority here. So mum’s the word.”
The animal snuffled, then licked her hand.
Maddie smiled, deciding she liked him. Oscar had a certain poise, too, which was down to the Cirneco dell’Etnas pedigree. She had looked up the breed the first time she’d had to book him into a vet. It was a rabbit-hunting dog from Sicily. Trust Elena to have an animal even more complicated than she was.
“Yep, you’re all class and elegance, aren’t you boy? Gorgeous.” Maddie gave him another firm scratch, which made him arch his neck over more, seeking extra attention. “I bet you and your mistress look stunning out walking together.”
Her heart clenched at the words, and a flash of sadness seared through her. She frowned.
What on earth was bumming her out?
Maddie returned to her bar stool and fished out her phone, thumbing her way through the photos of Véronique and Natalii. When she’d snapped them, she’d never thought her day would end like this. And then it hit her: This was goodbye. Elena had virtually said as much in every look and word since they’d entered her home. And the clause allowing her access to Perry? That would be unnecessary to include if Maddie still worked at Style Sydney.
She felt a warmth on her thigh and glanced down to find Oscar’s handsome head resting there. Maddie ran her fingers through his fur, scratching behind his ear, and sighed. She was going to really miss Elena.
A noise broke her musing, and she looked up to see the woman at the heart of her thoughts leaning against the door frame, studying her.
“So,” she said, “you’ve just worked it out, haven’t you? I did earlier. In the car.”
“Elena?”
“Tonight, I came to see you with one purpose—to get you back to my side, where I thought you belonged. And then I realised it was too late. You were gone the second you got the first quote out of the world’s most reclusive designer.”
Belonged? Elena thought Maddie belonged with her? Hope warred with regret. Elena didn’t mean it like that, but still…
“I don’t have to go.” Maddie scrambled to ground her thoughts. “I mean, I have options now, yes. But, I mean, I could…”
“Madeleine,” Elena said, tone stern, “we agreed to no lies. Why did you become my assistant in the first place? And don’t tell me it was for my excellent company and superb people skills.”
“I wanted to come home.”
“Yes, I’m well aware. But why else? Because they do have flights rather often between New York and Sydney.”
“It’s like you said, it was a face-saving way to do it,” Maddie admitted. “And it looks good on the résumé saying I’m your personal assistant.”
“Madeleine.” Elena’s voice brooked no arguments…or lies.
“Okay.” Maddie exhaled. “I also hoped you’d write me a nice reference. I know it was wishful thinking, since you rarely do, but…once upon a time we were almost friends. And I thought if you didn’t entirely hate me when we parted ways, you might write me one.”
“Of course,” Elena said with a nod. “All my PAs have that vain hope. But why? Why did you want my reference?”
