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Joseph shrugged. “I guess so.”
“See you around, Joseph,” Blair said. He threw Eleanor a glance. “Looking forward to that story, young lady.”
Joseph smirked as she fought against her expression of disgust. “Yeah, bye,” she muttered.
Robertson and Matthew retreated into the office and the huge door slammed, shutting out the likes of them.
She relaxed. “Jesus…”
“You okay?” Joseph asked, joining her on the couch.
She gazed at him pensively. There was something different about the way she was looking at him now. It was as if she respected him for the first time ever. “I’m okay – I think. Thank you for, you know…”
He chuckled. “Saving your life? No worries, babe.”
She smirked at his cockiness. “Luckily the gun was fake.”
He sighed. “You give me compliments, you take them away.”
“No, Joseph, I didn’t mean–”
“It’s okay, just kidding. So why exactly does Bob hate Robertson so much?”
“I told you, he’s a disgruntled employee.”
“But most disgruntled employees don’t go around gunning down their former employer, do they?”
“He brought it on himself, Joseph. He was a rogue reporter. He broke the rules by using abhorrent techniques to gain the trust of his targets, and he deservedly paid the price. I’m not surprised Mr Robertson and his company distanced themselves from him. He’s clearly insane. As you saw.”
Joseph decided he’d do his own research on this when he got home later. He wanted to stay and talk to Eleanor – now that they were actually getting along. But they both glanced up as a stern-looking woman in a sharp suit strode down the corridor.
“Ms Davison?” the woman asked in a gravelly voice.
Eleanor looked terrified. “Yes.”
“Come with me. I need to take your fingerprints and a retina scan so you can gain security clearance for Press HQ.”
Eleanor quickly put on her shoes and grabbed her purse. “Right, okay. See you later, Joseph.”
She threw him a smile which was almost friendly.
“Yeah, see ya. Good luck – I hope you get everything you want.”
As Joseph watched her stride away, he realised he’d really meant it. Even though she was the technically the enemy now, he wanted her to succeed, because he wanted her to be happy. But he did wonder one thing… how long was it going to take him to seduce her away from her asshole boyfriend and possess her entirely – just for himself?
Chapter Five
As Eleanor sat in the taxicab on her way to Press HQ, she was unable to get Joseph out of her mind. What he’d done back there – fighting an armed gunman – had totally transformed her opinion of him. It was true, she was desperately attracted to him anyway – he was handsome and charming, and she loved their daily exchanges of banter. But now she saw him in a completely different light. The way he’d leapt into action… he would’ve saved her life had the gun been real. And he’d been so cool about it. Her heart squeezed with affection.
But she knew it was pointless thinking about him. Any Joseph-based scenario would end in pain. If he didn’t like her, then she’d feel rejected. If he did like her, he’d only want a quick fling; and if he did want something more permanent (which was unlikely) she’d need to let him into her heart, and – after a disastrous three years with Matthew – she refused to ever let a man hurt her again. What she really needed was to get rid of Matthew and be single for a while. Now that she’d got what she wanted from him – a job with News Scape – she suddenly saw what she’d been doing for these last three years. She’d been using him, and she was ashamed of herself. She had loved him once… or at least she’d liked him a lot. But now that she’d used him to get this job, she was wondering whether this job was really what she wanted anyway…
The cab squeaked to a halt and she gazed out the window, realising she’d better get on with it now she was here. She took a moment to compose herself. The Press HQ building was like a fortress of doom. It was an old gothic mansion in the middle of the city, but it resembled a high-security prison from out here – or perhaps a sanatorium. The bricks were made of a creamy-beige stone, making it totally incongruous to the glass-and-steel skyscrapers all around. The turrets and peaked roof made it look like a fairy-tale castle, but it actually loomed like a horror house of terror. Eleanor half-expected a bolt of lightning to strike the highest tower – followed by maniacal laughter – but there was only grey drizzle above, and any noise from the heavens would be drowned out by the heart-crunching racket coming from the hundred-strong crowd of angry protestors who were currently blocking access to the stone steps. Luckily, there was a line of tough security guards preventing the protestors from entering the building – so Eleanor just needed to get through the crowd, and she’d be safe.
She paid the driver and slipped out onto the cold street, pulling her coat around her. This winter was cold and harsh, and she’d much rather be sitting on a sunny beach in Los Angeles right now. She had no idea who these protestors were or what they were protesting about, but they looked furious as they shouted chants about immorality. She sighed internally. It was freezing out here and she didn’t want to hang around on the sidewalk. Okay, she could do this. These people were just another obstacle that she had to overcome in order to achieve her dream. She’d already bulldozed through Matthew, so another few people to trample on should come easily. She pushed away her guilt at such thoughts and braced herself, then she stepped into the throng, realising that this must be how Joseph felt every morning, trying to get into the recording studio.
Eleanor was only five-foot-two and not particularly hefty, but she’d never been one to let anything get in her way. She strode forward with determination and pried apart a couple of protestors with her shoulder. They were engrossed in their chants of abuse towards The New York Spin so they parted easily, but as the crowd swallowed her up, it meant that there was now a wall of angry protestors surrounding her. Staying here would be dangerous, so she held up her hands like a battering ram and pushed as hard as she could, moving through the swarm like the prow of a ship cutting through the ocean. She spotted the sanctuary of the building ahead and sped up her pace, determined to get out of here before the waves dragged her under. She scrambled up on the stone steps and composed herself in front of one of the burly guards, then she pulled out her ID badge. The guard scrutinised the badge for what seemed like a silent eternity, and then he stood back and gestured for her to walk through the imposing red wooden doors that marked the entrance to her new life as a professional journalist. She stepped over the threshold and smiled, excited to be on the path to fulfilling her dreams. Her smile faded as she realised that there was now a set of glass doors blocking her way, like airport security doors. Eleanor realised she needed to swipe her badge on a wall-mounted pad, which made the doors swish open. She strolled
into the marble foyer.
