Elena froze. “Excuse me?”

Maddie stared up at her and saw veiled anger along with exhaustion. She felt immediate regret. Now was not the time. The media mogul had been up half the night drowning her sorrows, on top of handling the adrenaline of the exclusive. She’d have to be down to emotional vapours herself. Maddie shouldn’t be going anywhere near her sore points right now.

“Sorry,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster and closed her eyes, hoping Elena would take the opportunity to end the conversation.

“So am I,” Elena said. “About a lot of things. But that’s what I have lawyers and certain other people of questionable standing to correct for me.”

“Ah.” Maddie flickered her drooping eyes back open. She wondered idly just how spectacularly Elena was going to screw over her slimy ex-to-be.

“Mm. By the way, it’s done,” Elena said.

“What is?”

“Your story. Style’s Australian Fashion Week issue. The first comprehensive Véronique Duchamp interview the world has ever seen. It was put to bed five minutes ago. It’ll be on the presses within the hour.”

As the reality of the words hit her, Maddie sat up.

Elena smiled. “Congratulations, Madeleine. You’re about to be a legend in this town.”

Maddie swallowed.

“And every other town.”

“Thank you.” Maddie injected every ounce of sincerity into her gaze.

Elena opened her mouth, as though about to ask what for. She closed it again. And nodded.

“Come Monday, this is all over.” Sadness washed over Maddie as she said the words. “I’m not your assistant anymore.”

“Well, I doubt you’ll be short of work, somehow. And I still expect your second Véronique story by next Wednesday.”

“Yes, Elena,” Maddie replied in her best assistant voice. She grinned. “Not bad for someone who’s not a journalist.”

Elena studied her for a beat. “I stand by that. Madeleine, you are not a journalist.”

“What? How can you still—”

Elena lifted her hand. “Don’t be offended. I never meant it the way you took it. You are a storyteller. You translate and cut to the heart of what people are. You were born to write, but not news. These sort of insightful character pieces are what you were meant to do with your life. But the hunt of the journalist, uncovering the darkness, corruption, crime, kicking in heads to get to the truth, it’s not you. Your emotions would prevent you thriving in that arena.”

“A storyteller?” She tasted the word and wasn’t sure what she thought of it. Being a news journalist was what she’d always wanted to do. There was no way she could throw away the dream. Not now, not when she was about to have so many opportunities. “I will adapt. I can adapt. They say journalists become more cynical the older they get. Right? I can too.” She tried to smile, but it faded.

“Yes, they do. Is that what you want to be? A cynical hack?” Elena regarded her. “I suppose, if you work hard enough at it, you might stop connecting with people, feeling their pain, and you might even succeed at writing well the stories you don’t care about or even hate. Would that be success to you, Madeleine? Is that what you really want?”

“I…” Maddie stopped. She hadn’t thought about it like that.

“I know it’s hard,” Elena said not unkindly, “to give up a dream you’ve invested so much time and belief in. You probably had a fantasy of uncovering crime, bringing down a corrupt politician, and making a difference.”

Shock coiled through Maddie at her accuracy.

“Every young reporter does. But is it really you? What if your future is, instead, in writing magazine profiles, as you did with Véronique? Or penning biographies? Basic news journalism is a waste of your skills. It’s a mismatch. That’s all I meant.”

Maddie’s heart sank. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Elena was supposed to be telling her she’d had it all wrong. That Maddie was a kick-ass journalist. She rubbed her eyes to hide her hurt.

“See it as expanding your horizons, not retreating,” Elena continued, and this time, there was a softness in her tone. “Learn to pivot. Find the thing that you are best at, not the thing you trained for.”

They studied each other in silence for a moment. “You’re talking about how you went from fashion to business,” Maddie said.

“As I said, it’s hard.” Elena hesitated. “Giving up a dream is always hard.”

“But you did. You became an entrepreneur. A really successful one.”

“Exactly.”

“And yet I’ve seen you at Style. You’re so brilliant at it. You have more talent and passion for producing fashion magazines in your pinkie than everyone in Bartell Corp combined. Hell, your staff all freely acknowledge it. And yet, your job is axing dying papers and building skyscrapers like Hudson Shard and calling it art.”

Elena’s eyes narrowed, but Maddie pressed on. “So, from what I can see, you’ve pivoted away from where your heart is and what you’re best at. I think you know that too, somewhere, deep down. It’s why you can’t let it go. Because any other owner would have just parachuted in a new editor-in-chief for Style Sydney and moved on. Not you. Elena, you’re now unofficially editing this magazine, not overhauling it. Everyone knows it. You’re doing what you’ve always wanted, and that’s why you don’t want to let it go.”

Elena eyes cooled. “You feel free to say all this because you no longer work for me?”

“Someone has to say it,” Maddie said. “And I’m saying it as a friend.”

“Is that how you see us? Friends?”

Maddie’s heart thudded hard. She looked away, unable to meet the eyes watching her so closely. “I thought, maybe, we could have been that in New York. Or almost were? Well until you showed me I was wrong. You thought I was just an employee.”

Elena said nothing for a few moments. “You weren’t wrong.”

Maddie’s head snapped back. “What?”

“But business came first,” Elena said, looking uncomfortable. “The things I did were necessary. But it does not also follow that I enjoyed what needed to be done. It does not necessarily follow, either, that I wasn’t appreciating your…company.” She faded out.

“Is that why you asked me to be your assistant? You…missed me?” It sounded insane. And yet…

“That’s…” Maddie could see the lie forming, but just then, Elena’s intense gaze was back. “One reason. A major one. It will be odd, tomorrow, being at work without seeing you every day.” Her tone became flat.

Maddie smiled.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Maddie smiled harder.

“You know very well.” Elena’s eyebrow lifted. “It’s that thing you do.” She stood. “It’s late. Feel free to use the guest room again. You’ve earned a decent sleep after the hours you put in today.” Her voice was back to all business. She’d clearly used up her quota of sharing.

“Thanks, Elena. I appreciate that. Can’t face the thought of the train right now, to be honest.” She hesitated. It was now or never. “Um—by the way, you never said what you thought of my story. I mean the actual content, not the scoop itself.”

Elena paused. “Oh. Well.” She stopped again. “Don’t let it go to your head, but it was…acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” Maddie swallowed her disappointment. “Oh, okay. Great. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try and make the next one better.” She uncurled from the sofa, intent on hauling her weary bones to bed.