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Another flashbulb temporarily blinded her with its lightning-blue flare.
‘What’s going on?’ said Jade, bewildered, then wished she’d never asked, because an early edition of the Daily View was held up in front of her nose. She became aware of two things. Constantine’s photo.
And hers.
Hers?
And then, she became aware of a third thing; of the headline—shockingly huge and clear and banner-like.
‘My Steamy Nights of Love with Greek Tycoon!’
Under her byline!
Jade snatched the newspaper. ‘Give me that!’ She slammed the door in their faces, and, hands shaking like crazy, carried the newspaper into the sitting- room.
It was worse than she could have possibly im- agined. It was a short piece, but to the point. And, apart from the headline, innocuous enough. But it would have repulsed even the strongest stomach with its opening sentence: ‘Dewy-eyed cub reporter Jade Meredith described how stunningly handsome Greek billionaire Constantine Sioulas popped the question on an idyllic Greek island…’
Jade dialled the office with trembling fingers and asked to be put through to Maggie, who didn’t even have the good grace to sound abashed.
‘How could you do this to me, Maggie?’
‘It’s a good story!’
‘But I trusted you!’
‘The more fool you, Jade.’ Maggie gave a shrill laugh. ‘You should know by now, dear—once a journalist, always a journalist!’
‘He’ll sue. He’ll sue you for every penny you’ve got.’
‘He can’t sue!’ Maggie’s voice was triumphant. ’I checked with our lawyer—and we’ve printed nothing that wasn’t true!’
Jade didn’t feel like enlightening Maggie that there had been no nights of love, merely a rather sordid episode in his hotel sitting-room. ‘Then I’ll sue. I didn’t write that.’
‘But all of it you said. And I have the tape to prove it.’
Jade listened in appalled silence. ‘You recorded me?’ she whispered.
‘Sure. It’s my job.’ In the background, Jade could hear the sound of someone speaking very quickly. ’Listen, Jade—I have to hang up now.’
Jade sat on the sofa for the rest of the morning, unable to eat or drink or move, feeling like a cor- nered fox while outside all the reporters bayed for her blood. She shut her eyes in horror. Yes, she’d been angry with Constantine’s cold-blooded pos- session of her yesterday, but not enough to do this. Never to do something like this. She looked down to find that she was still clutching the Daily View like a lifeline, and immediately dropped the news- paper on to the carpet as though it were contaminated.
My God, she thought—if Constantine had dis- liked her before, then his loathing would now know no bounds.
Her reverie was interrupted by the telephone. It was Maggie again.
‘Can you get in here right away, Jade?’ she said urgently. ‘I’m sending a couple of guys down to get you through the Press.’
And Jade did what she had been longing to do for almost a year, uncaring of the consequences. ’No, I can’t, Maggie. In fact I’m tendering my res- ignation. As of now, I no longer work for you.’
There was an odd and somewhat strained quality to the normally robust editor’s voice. ‘Jade—I advise you to get down here right away. I advise you very strongly indeed.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say any more on the phone.’
Not at liberty? ‘Why?’ asked Jade acidly. ‘Has someone got a gun to your head.’
