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3
CHRISTABELLE CANNON
I HAVE A JOB TO DO
“Chrissy.” Davis ducks his head into my corner office and flashes a smile like he knows he’s handsome.
Which, he is. He’s one of New York’s most successful journalists. He’s unmarried, single, and with no divorces under his belt, and no kids to support.
Though, for some peculiar reason, he thinks his boss’ daughter is the direction he should point his attentions.
No thank you.
I have a fancy office inside this building in upper Manhattan, and my paycheck boasts digits far exceeding my experience, education, and talents. My life is comfortable, and someday, a long time from now, I’ll inherit the empire my father built.
Maybe that’s Davis’long game. For now, he’s my boss. My direct supervisor, who reports only to the CEO and publisher—Michael Cannon, my father. But perhaps editor-in-chief isn’t where his final sights are set.
Davis is a man driven by the hustle and bustle of our massive New York City publication. He thrives on deadlines, and laughs in the face of chaos.
Honestly, he’s a little crazy. Though I’m yet to decide if it’sgood crazyorbad crazy.
Either way, he flickers a toothy grin now and tips his head in beckoning. “Follow me to my office, please. I want to discuss the Malone article.”
“Sure.” I grab my laptop and phone, though I’m not going far—just to the office beside mine—then I nod for Dana to join us. She’s my shadow inside this building. My sentry and my guard. She’s also my assistant, and executive coffee-getter. “Come on.”
“Yes, Ms. Cannon.”
She’s a nervous being. Shorter than my five-five, and rounder by about double. But she’s damn good at her job, intuitive enough to ensure our days run smoothly, and smart enough to stop me before I make a mess of things.
Well… up until this Malone exposé I’ve been working on.
“Your article went to print this morning, Chrissy.” Before I even cross the threshold to Davis’ office, he lopes to the other side of his desk and sits down in a tall leather chair. Folding one leg over the other, he watches me set my things down and sit in one of two visitor chairs. “We sold a hundred thousand more copies today than we have any other Tuesday since two-thousand and nineteen. Thanks to your little appearance on Channel Twenty-One yesterday.”
My fingers prickle with nervous excitement. “So it worked, then.” I sit on the edge of my seat and lean closer to the desk. “Give the audience a taste of what they want to hear, tell them what they need to buy to get more, and then we sit back and reap the rewards of a worm well dangled.”
His brown eyes, warm like melted chocolate, dance with approval. “It doesn’t work indefinitely. But when you have something big going out…”
“People want to know about the Malones, Davis.” I snatch up my phone, as though to show him the results I pulled on public interest this week, but I don’t unlock the screen. I don’t bother. I don’t need to, to make my point. “Old man Malone was a powerful don for several decades. He died two months ago, under suspicious circumstances. No one has seen the body. No M.E. has officially declared the man dead.He’s just… disappeared. And the people of this city are curious enough to wonder what the hell happened.”
“Whispers say he died of cancer and his sons buried him out the back.”
I choke out a soft laugh and lift a single shoulder in acceptance. “It’s possible that’s exactly what happened. He had stopped making public appearances months prior, and there’s been no war since. If there had been, it might imply his death was a result of another family’s actions.But,” I smile when Davis opens his mouth to speak, “whatever happened, whatever is currently happening inside that world, the people are curious.”
“You scammed the readers.” He takes a letter opener from his desk and holds it between his fingers. “You promised them juicy headlines.”
“And I delivered.” I accept a steaming coffee from Dana when she offers it and turn back to my boss’ muddy stare. “Archer Malone is still a Malone. He’s a newlywed. His bride, Mayet, is a powerful woman. This is information the people will want.”
“You doxed a cop who doesn’t even live on this side of the country. Are you so fearless?”
“You approved the piece!”
He grins and sets down his letter opener. “I’m not criticizing, Chrissy. I’m only laying out the facts. You promised a story on the New York Malones, you delivered a story on a Copeland Malone and his doctor wife. Not only are you risking unwanted attention from the mob, but you’re pissing off cops, too.”
“And I made this company three million dollars.Today. I’d say my experiment was a success.”
“And tomorrow? What will you publish to keep the momentum going?”
“I’m gonna keep pushing this same button until something juicy pops out.” Setting my phone aside and opening my laptop, I turn the screen and show Davis what I was going to email in a matter of minutes anyway. “Felix is the face of the Malones now, like they held a meeting and declared him class representative. I’m going after him until I make us ten million in a morning.”
