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"No, I have a meeting with a lead on a story we're working on for the Chronicle. It's cloak and dagger stuff." He wagged his eyebrows.

"Cloak and dagger?" I said, frowning. "Is it political? Economic? Crime?"

He smiled. "Maybe a little of all three."

"Be careful," I said, and stood, slipping my arms around his neck. "I don't like the thought of you meeting with unsavory types for a story that your reporters should be doing. You're the boss. You should be safely ensconced in your big corner desk overlooking the newsroom. Or is that just the way it is in the movies?"

"It's that way in real life, too, but this is something I want to take care of personally."

"You can't tell me about it?" I asked, pouting.

"No can do," Josh said. "But maybe one day, you'll read about it in the papers."

"You don't trust me to keep silent about whatever it is?" I asked, feeling a bit hurt. "I'd never say anything to anyone about it."

"It's not that," Josh said, his tone serious. "It's that I wouldn't want to put you in any danger. There are some stories that have big powerful players involved who use unsavory tactics to keep the story quiet. I don't want you to ever be in danger because of something I told you."

"Josh, what kind of story is this?" I asked, suddenly alarmed. "Does it involve the mafia or something?"

Josh shrugged. "Something like that, and I'm not going to say anything more, okay?"

"Is that why Mr. Fedora has been following us?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Until I know who he is and who he works for, I can't say. But I want to be safe, just in case. Can you trust me with this?" he said, meeting my eyes, his expression firm.

I nodded, knowing Josh had to keep some things private until he felt he could talk about it to me. Some stories were still in the early stages and he needed to keep quiet about them.

"Okay, I understand."

We kissed again and Josh turned to leave. "I'll be home at around seven with the beer and Korean food, so have the television warmed up so we can watch the pre-game talk before it starts."

"I'll be waiting."

Josh left and I exhaled, worried about whatever story his paper was chasing down that he thought was dangerous enough that he couldn't tell me about it for my own safety. I hoped it wasn't the mafia, whether the Italian or the Russian version. It could even be the Irish mafia for all I knew. Each group had their own territories and areas of dominance. Building, shipping, drugs, prostitution... They tended to leave civilians alone as long as you weren't involved in any of their business dealings, but a civilian could be targeted as a way to pay back someone who messed with them. That much I did know from reading about them.

For his sake, I hoped whatever it was, Josh wasn't in any danger.

* * *

I met with Sharon later in the afternoon, and together, we went over the latest manuscripts I'd done coverage of for the editorial team. She was happy with my work and so I left the meeting feeling really positive about how things were going on the job side. I was pretty sure that even if Josh wasn't going to be my husband, Sharon would want to keep me on as a paid employee, and that's what mattered to me.

I knew that I could probably slide by on my connection to Josh, but I didn't want to. I wanted to go into publishing before I ever met Josh and so I was prepared to work hard and put in the hours, do the grueling thankless work of being an unpaid assistant for six months to prove myself. When I did get a job, I wanted it to be because of my own hard work and not who my future husband was.

I had pride in my abilities and work ethic. I didn't want people whispering behind my back that I got my job with the publisher because of Josh.

I closed my computer and cleaned off my desk, then took the elevator up to the penthouse, wanting to change into some more comfortable clothes for Josh and my evening watching basketball and eating Korean food. When I got inside the apartment, I went right to the bathroom and had a quick shower, just in case Josh had something else on his mind before we ate, which was often the case. When I was finished, I

dressed in something sexy but comfortable and went to the kitchen to get out plates and serving spoons for our meal. Then, as Josh instructed, I turned on the flatscreen and turned to the sports channel that carried the Knicks games and plopped down on the sofa in wait.

While I waited, I listened to the chatter on the sports channel as the announcers talked about the game and the season, half an ear on them and half of my mind focused on my Twitter feed, reading the latest news. It was now seven o'clock and I expected Josh home any time with our food and beer. When another fifteen minutes passed without any Josh, I checked my texts and email to see if he had sent a message about being late, but there was nothing. At seven thirty, I started to get alarmed. He usually was really good at sending me text messages if he was going to be late for our plans, and so I was surprised that he hadn't already.

Finally, at 7:45, after the game had already been on for a quarter of an hour, I got a text from him.

JOSH: Sorry I'm going to be late, but something came up about that thing I was talking about and I had to stay later than I planned. I'm on my way now and will be there in twenty minutes with food and beer in hand.

I smiled to myself and sighed with relief.

ELLA: Okay, the game is on and I'm waiting for you. Hope everything is okay...

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