Dirty Headlines(42)

I rolled my eyes and pushed my notepad his way, speaking fast. “Phoenix texted me early this morning. He has a huge lead but doesn’t have time to chase it. It’s about—”

“Stop hanging out with Phoenix.” He cut into my words.

I clamped my mouth shut, frowning. What? “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, because you didn’t know what kind of a douchebag he is. But now that you’re fully informed, drop him. He’s bad news.”

“And you’re good news?” I huffed.

“I’m the best fucking news, have been for two consecutive years, and I have the numbers to back it up.”

Okay. Well. I did kind of step into that one.

I shook my head. “You can’t tell me what to do, and you’re wasting time right now talking about Phoenix when we have a huge headline to chase,” I seethed, snapping my fingers in front of his rather amused face.

He pursed his lips into a ruthless smirk. “Go on.”

“The president of Trust State, Arnie Hammond, is going to announce that he’s stepping down from his position this evening.” I snatched Kipling back from him, flipping through it urgently as I spoke. Trust State was one of the biggest insurance companies in the country. “Not many people know about it yet, and it’s only a speculation. However, it is happening, and the reason is rather scandalous. Remember how Trust State filed a huge lawsuit against Germany thirty years ago?”

“They represented holocaust survivors who weren’t eligible for compensation. And their families.” Célian nodded, finally focusing on what mattered. “It was a huge deal. Gained a lot of publicity and new clients after that.”

“Well, apparently, Hammond pocketed a lot of that money, and an internal investigation just blew that case to the sky.” I licked my lips, feeling every cell in my body dancing in excitement. “I contacted the source Phoenix gave me. He’s high up in the Trust State food chain. I’m going to meet him this afternoon.”

“Is he going on the record?” Célian’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline.

“Uh, yeah, but he wants to remain anonymous.”

Célian frowned. “Fuck that. A faceless source is like a cuntless whore.”

“Thanks for the analogy. And that’s not going to happen. He’ll lose his job.”

“Not necessarily. I’m coming with you,” Célian said.

“No, thank you.”

“It wasn’t an offer, Judith. You’re good, but still learning. I’m a veteran. And this is not about stroking your precious little ego. This is about scoring the best story we can get and giving it to our viewers before everyone else. There’s no I in team.”

“There is in Tim,” I grumbled, though I knew he was right.

He smirked. “Annoyingly adorable. Almost tempted to let you suck my cock right here in the office.”

I rolled my eyes, stood up, gathered my things, and exited.

“And delicious,” he called to my back.

I didn’t turn around, but I did stop at the door and smile to myself, thinking rather sadly, and screwed.





My source, Finn Samson, was late.

We were sitting at a kosher deli on a side road slicing Canal Street. The scent of moth balls and stale bread floated around the room. Célian had ordered a coffee and a bullet, because he couldn’t stand the stench. He’d only gotten one of his two requests. The good thing about the place was it was dead, but still a friendly territory. This meeting was too delicate for a Starbucks.

I tapped my fingers over the table, chewing on my lower lip and looking around. Célian stared at me, bluntly, and instead of feeling awkward, I soaked it up, drinking his attention like fine wine.

A part of me was embarrassed that Samson hadn’t arrived yet. I knew Célian was impatient. This made me want to distract him. I tapped my side of the table a thousand times.

He looked under our table at my Chucks. Orange. “Stimulation, sensation, and heat,” he commented. “Even you know I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“You clearly just did. If this was twenty questions, you’d already have a disadvantage.”

I pretended to examine my nails while giving him the finger. It made him chuckle, and his voice danced in the pit of my stomach.

Are you sure about the love thing, Mom? Because if we miscalculated this, I’m in deep, deep trouble.

“Go ahead, Humphry.”

“What happened a year ago? Grayson said something happened that made you guys exile Couture to a different floor. I know it’s around the same time you and your fiancée…”

He stiffened in his seat for a second, then relaxed, throwing an arm over the back of his chair. “My sister died.”

My eyes met his across the table. I wanted to take his hand and comfort him, but he didn’t look like he needed any comforting. He’d said it methodically, like he was reciting someone else’s story.

“She was Couture’s editor in chief. Was in charge of Gary and Ava.”

“Grayson,” I corrected.

“Whatever. After what happened, Mathias and I couldn’t really look at them without remembering…”