Writing, writing, writing.
Her wrists were aching from typing, her shoulders groaned, and everything felt as if it was taking too damned long. The clock ticked on, food appeared and disappeared—she wasn’t entirely sure whether it had come from Rosetta and whether she’d been the one to eat it—she never looked up. The words were starting to look ready, but now she had a flow problem. Her story jumped around too much, from subject to subject. If she could just concentrate long enough…to…there was a din from people talking just out of her zone of concentration…she had to think and…for God’s sake, it was getting louder…
“Would you all please just shut up!” she cried out, as the hubbub near her working space rose to a dull roar.
She half expected a “sorry, Maddie,” followed by Perry dashing off to bother someone else. Instead, she got eerie silence and a weird prickling sensation. She turned slowly to see Elena’s astonished look, three feet away, a phone frozen in her hand, as someone on the speaker called from it, “Hello? Ms Bartell are you still there?” and Felicity’s you-did-not-just-do-that wide-eyed expression.
Maddie gestured at her computer screen with a helpless look.
Elena’s lips thinned. She turned. “Benjamin, I will call you back.” She stabbed the phone off and stared at Maddie.
No one spoke. Maddie’s pulse thudded like a jackhammer.
“Quite correct, Madeleine, we will steer clear of your working area.” She turned to Felicity. “See that no one bothers her again.” The steel was back in her voice, as Elena bowed out of the room.
With sweating hands, Maddie returned to her work. Her thoughts wandered, though.
Holy hell.That did not just happen.
For the first time in her life, Maddie understood what having power meant. Another thought struck her.
Is this what it’s like all the time to be Elena?
* * *
Hours later, a sharp rap sounded, and Elena entered the room.
Blearily, Maddie lifted her head from her computer and realised it was almost five in the afternoon.
“Well?” Elena perched on a chair facing her, all elegance and regal coolness despite having endured just as intense a day as Maddie. “I trust I am not interrupting your tenuous concentration this time?” She slid up a challenging eyebrow.
Maddie caught a faint glint of humour in those blue eyes.
“First draft is done,” she reported. “I emailed it to Victor forty minutes ago. I was just figuring out an approach for the second story, the life and times of Véronique. What do you think about starting it with the anecdote of her milking the cows? You know, setting the scene in the barn, and here’s the world’s top fashion designer perched on a rustic, old stool squeezing cow teats?”
Elena’s mouth performed some amused contortions. “By all means, Madeleine, Véronique Duchamp and cow teats it is.” This time the humour in her eyes was anything but faint.
Maddie grinned. She moved her laptop to one side and shook her wrists. “Less of a mad rush on the second story, right? I mean, that one runs next month.”
Elena nodded. “Yes. But I will need it by next Wednesday. I don’t wish to give the editorial teams worldwide two heart attacks over deadlines in back-to-back issues. Now, while Victor is editing your story, the pages have been laid out waiting for the words. The photos are chosen. Have a break and come take a look at what the artist has done.”
Maddie stood. Every locked muscle in her body protested. “Ow.”
Elena laughed as she exited the room.
* * *
The spread was incredible. Maddie ran her gaze across the pages, admiring the way the text drew the attention and flowed, begging you to stop and dive in. Long columns of copy were broken up with strategic, giant quotes from her story.
It was surreal to see the words that Véronique had spoken with a cavalier wave of her hand a day ago, now in bold, black Theano Didot font. The photos had been tweaked in some subtle way that Maddie couldn’t quite work out. The greys had been softened in places, the contrast enhanced, and the balance of shades now popped from the pages.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her eyes tracing the design across the run of pages. Every picture told a story and each was chosen and positioned for maximum impact. Her photos looked gorgeous. She stared in awe. “Wow! You’ve made the pics look incredible.”
Pride flickered across Elena’s face. “You took the photos, Madeleine; we worked with what you gave us. But, yes, Jonas and Perry have done a fine job. I suppose, knowing the whole world would be studying their finished product provided some inducement for them to lift their game.”
Maddie laughed at her joke. “Oh yeah, that must be it.”
Elena scrolled back to the beginning. “I think you missed something on your first pass.”
Maddie studied the first page. Her headshot was staring back. The words World Exclusive—Maddie Grey in huge letters sat underneath it.
She stared at the photo, unsure where it had come from. She finally recognised the hint of neckline visible. Some Sydney charity luncheon she’d had to attend with Elena. She’d been snapped standing beside her on the hotel steps and, thanks to a Perry Marks’ intervention before the event, she was looking almost glamorous.
Her eye returned to her name. Maddie Grey. Somehow, Elena had resisted the urge to spell it out in full. It was nice that she’d respected Maddie’s preference. “This is real,” she said in wonder, looking at those two small words. “I mean, really real.”
“It’s real, Madeleine. You’re in for one bumpy roller-coaster ride.”
Maddie glanced up at her. “So are you. Right?”
“How so?”
“A Bartell Corporation publication is running this world exclusive.”
“Ah.” Elena smiled. “It’s not my first, but it is my favourite. I would give rather a lot to see Emmanuelle’s face when this comes out. She did so desperately want Véronique. Her pursuit of her has been an industry punchline for years. She tried far more often than even I did.”
Maddie grinned. “Happy to help.”
Elena gave her a curious look. “Did you actually seriously consider selling your story to her?”
