The Honey Trap. Mary Baker Jayne
Steve sold tickets or what?
‘Erm…’
‘Blackthorne! My office, now!’
Urghh. Steve. Well, she had to get it over with sooner or later. At least he’d saved her from Savannah’s knowing smirk.
‘You’ve got some brass balls, Clifton!’ she hissed once the door had swung shut behind her. ‘What the hell did you think you were playing at, splashing those photos across your cheap little rag? You knew I tried to block that camera, and if you had any respect at all for me, any sense of human decency, you’d have turned it off yourself. Christ! I can’t believe I put my arse on the line for you!’
Steve smirked. ‘No pun intended, eh love? Look, don’t get your thong in a twist. I didn’t watch the whole show, tempting though it was. Just skimmed through the vid on Saturday and took a few stills for the story. At the end of the day, I am a family man. We had the grandkiddies in the next room. Your jiggling bum cheeks are not something I fancy them walking in on, still more explaining to their nan, thanks all the same.’
Angel felt a small twinge of relief. He was probably lying, but if she could delude herself even ever so slightly, that was better than nothing.
‘And no offence, Princess, but you pays your money, you takes your choice. You didn’t have to shag him senseless, I said you could go. But if a job’s worth doing it’s worth doing thoroughly, eh?’ His mouth curved wickedly. ‘You know, that’s what I like about you, Blackthorne: you always see things through to the, er, bitter end.’
She winced with embarrassment. No one but her should know this much about her sex life – or, more usually, her lack of one.
‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled,’ Steve continued. ‘I got a much better story out of it thanks to you. You should get the horn more often.’
‘Okay, okay, so I didn’t have to bloody sleep with him,’ she growled back. ‘But you didn’t have to go into quite so much detail either! You were perfectly prepared to run a story based on nothing but a couple of staged photos the day before. And vice girl, Steve, seriously? What the hell was that all about?’
The editor shrugged. ‘Just sounds better, doesn’t it? The public loves a vice girl. Look, I kept your face out of it, didn’t I? You haven’t had Mummy and Daddy ringing up to ask why their little Angel’s gone on the game?’
She ignored that comment. ‘And what about the office? Even Savannah seems to know! I’ll never hear the end of it!’
Steve waved a dismissive, liver-spotted hand. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it, Blackthorne. You’ve not been here long, have you? Something like this happens every few months in this game. It’d make you blush, the things I could tell you about the staff on this paper. Jez in accounts has got a coke habit that must be putting his dealer’s kids through uni. One of our longest-serving sub-eds, sixty-four and due for retirement next year, is so addicted to high-class prozzies he’s had to mortgage his flat. Even your innocent-looking little mate out there, Lord bless her, has got her dirty secret. I caught Cal, the film critic, giving her one in the stationery cupboard last week.’
‘That’s not the point! The point is – what, seriously, Savannah and Cal? Him with the little bum-fluff moustache?’
‘The very same. Everyone’s on the ladder looking to get a leg up – or a leg over,’ Steve said with a leer. ‘See, lass? Nothing to worry about. You’re not the only one with something to be ashamed of around here. By next week no one will remember your little indiscretion, or whatever you want to call it.’
‘Fine, have it your way then, you sleazy old son of a bitch. I’m dirty, you’re dirty: we’re all dirty, scummy little human beings. But I won’t forget this, Steve. Never.’ She jabbed an accusing finger at the editor’s corpulent frame across the desk, her voice low and dangerous. ‘You betrayed me. Those photos were… private. They weren’t part of what we agreed. And you knew it.’
‘Did I betray you, Princess? Or are you just taking it out on me because you feel like you’ve betrayed yourself?’
Trying not to consider if there was a lick of truth in his words, she drew up what dignity she could muster and turned to leave.
‘Blackthorne. Wait. Before you go.’
She spun back, still seething. ‘What? Have you got another assignment for me, boss? Maybe head down to Battersea and kick a few puppies? Get my tits out for the Chancellor of the Exchequer in time for budget day?’
‘Maybe next week. Look, I just wanted to say you did a good job on that sting. You picked it up like a pro and you really came through. I was proud of you. That was our fastest-selling edition for years. You’ll make a cracking journalist one of these days, lass.’
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. She didn’t even know if being a journalist was something she wanted at all any more. Turning on her heel, she stormed out of Steve’s office and back to her desk.
***
It was three weeks before Angel set foot in the editor’s office again.
She flung open the glass-and-steel door and slammed both hands palm down on Steve’s desk. Eyes and cheeks burned crimson fury as she faced off against him with an expression of thunderous defiance.
‘What the hell was that email all about, Clifton? Are you deliberately trying to humiliate me or what? Is this punishment for something?’
To her shock, Steve actually looked surprised.
Could he really think he was doing her a favour, assigning her to report on next month’s premiere of The Milkman Cometh? All she wanted to do was forget about Sebastian Wilchester, forget about the honey trap and get on with her life, such as it was. And now here was Steve flinging her straight into the man’s path.
‘Are you tugging my chain, Blackthorne? Your mate Leo had to beg me to let you take this job, with your lack of experience. Flat-out refused to work with anyone else on it. Don’t you know what an opportunity it is, a lowly intern being assigned to cover a Tigerblaze premiere? If you hadn’t done such a great job on that last assignment there’s no way I’d send a rookie for this.’
‘But Wilchester will be there!’ she hissed, refusing to be mollified. ‘What if he recognises me? It’s both our reputations on the line, Steve, mine and yours.’
‘Relax, he won’t see you. These things are always packed out, and he goes out of his way to avoid the press. Hates them. Now more than ever after the stunt we pulled on him, I’d guess. You’ll never even come close to him.’
Angel opened her mouth to speak, but Steve was just getting into his stride.
‘And what if he does see you? He won’t do anything, the story will have been out there for nearly two months by that point. Him and Beaumont are just starting to put it all behind them, he’s not likely to want reminding of it. That’s if he recognises you. For all we know he’s Johnny Yo Yo Boxers seven nights a week. He’s not going to remember one tight little arse out of hundreds, love.’
Angel felt a pain she quickly tried to smother. She wasn’t allowed to be hurt by thoughts like that. She was moving on with her life. It was almost as if the whole thing never happened. It was almost as if she’d forgotten the irresistible feel of Seb against her flesh, the way his expressive eyes fired when he gave himself to her, the way he could be so tender and yet so demanding as he brought his lips down on to hers. Yes, almost.
‘Fine,’ she snapped, fighting the warmth surging through her gut. ‘I’ll do it. And I’ll do a bloody good write-up as well. But I want my own byline and when Sarah goes on maternity leave next week I want my CV top of the pile for the temporary showbiz editor job.’
‘It’s already top of the pile, love.’