Miss White And The Seventh Heir. Jennifer Faye
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELSA WHITE STOOD before the window of her stylish Manhattan office adorned with black furnishings and gold trim. It wasn’t just any office building. It was a skyscraper owned by White Publishing. And Elsa’s office was on the top floor. She enjoyed looking down upon the rest of the world.
From her office window, the people below looked like peons—small and inconsequential. She smiled, knowing she was so much better than them. She had money, lots of money, and a powerful reach. She was forever finding ways to make her presence in publishing even greater—legal or illegal, it made no difference to her.
Elsa moved in front of an oversized gold leaf mirror that hung on the wall next to her desk. She pivoted on her black stilettos this way and that way, never taking her gaze off her image. A smile bloomed on her face. Perfect. Her manicured red fingernail slid down over her ivory cheek. There wasn’t a wrinkle to be had anywhere on her flawless complexion. Nor should there be with the massive amount she paid her plastic surgeon.
She tucked a few loose strands of platinum-blond hair behind one ear, leaving the other side of her smooth bobbed hair to hang loose. Perfect.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in.” She’d told her personal assistant to send in Mr. Hunter, the private detective, as soon as he arrived.
Elsa continued to stare into the mirror. She never tired of her reflection. How could anyone tire of such beauty? Deciding to reapply her “Wicked Red” lipstick, she retrieved the tube of lipstick from the glass table beneath the mirror.
As she removed the cap from the tube, her gaze sought out the man’s reflection in the mirror. “Well, don’t just stand there. Tell me what you’ve learned about my stepdaughter.”
The tall man with short, dark hair stood his ground, seemingly unfazed by her snappishness. “She’s working in Los Angeles.”
“So she’s still living across the country. Good. Very good.” The farther away Sage White remained from Elsa’s empire, the better.
“She’s working for QTR Magazine—”
“What?” Elsa swung around and glared at the man. He never once glanced away or in any way acted as though he was fazed by her anger. This normally would have sparked Elsa’s interest, but right now she was preoccupied. “I thought I got her blackballed from all publishing houses.”
“You did, but then QTR was drawn into some sort of lawsuit and that’s how she got her foot in the door. From what I was able to uncover, the senior Rousseau was forced to step down from the failing company. Before he did so, he put your stepdaughter under an ironclad contract that even the board could not break so long as Miss White showed a steady improvement in the company’s profitability.”
No longer concerned about her lips, Elsa returned the lipstick to the table. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it? I pay you good money to keep a close eye on her.”
The man’s expression hardened. “The deal with QTR just happened. They kept everything hush-hush until the contract was signed. Even the board overseeing QTR didn’t know what had been done until it was too late.”
Elsa folded her arms, holding her left elbow up with her right hand. Her long shiny nail tapped on her pointy chin as she considered this new development. She couldn’t allow Sage to become successful. With enough funds, Sage could dig into the past. If she were to unearth the truth, she could send the empire that Elsa had lied, deceived and flat-out stolen tumbling into ruin. And that just couldn’t happen.
Elsa had outsmarted that girl since the day her father died. She would continue to do so. The company afforded her the lifestyle she deserved and allowed her to maintain her beauty.
Elsa’s narrowed gaze zeroed in on Hunter. She had plans for him. “Tell me more about QTR.”
“It appears they are in a downward spiral. They are losing shelf space in stores and their online presence is shrinking.”
“Oh, good. Very good.” Her worries diminished, but she knew not to take Sage for granted. She had too much of her father in her. “Keep a close eye on my stepdaughter. She is not to be underestimated. And she cannot be successful at QTR. I will stop her at all costs. Now go.” Elsa pointed to the door.
The man hesitated as though disliking being ordered around. Elsa was not used to people standing up to her. She liked being able to bend people to her will. She’d never been able to bend Sage and that was why the girl had to go.
When the man turned to the door, Elsa zeroed in on his finer assets—very fine indeed. Perhaps she’d dismissed him too soon. But by then the door was swinging shut. She would have to scratch her itch another time.
Elsa turned back to her reflection. No one was about to unseat her as queen of this publishing empire. She had nothing to worry about—certainly not the likes of that insipid, happy-go-lucky girl. A headline-worthy failure would ruin Sage’s future in publishing once and for all.
Elsa broke out in a cackle.
It was all going to work out perfectly. She would see to it.
Five months later...
SHE ONLY HAD one more month.
One more month to prove that her plan would work—to keep her job.
Sage White worried her bottom lip. Even though she’d stemmed off the hemorrhaging expenses of QTR Magazine and in fact was now turning a small profit, she still had a long way to go to appease the board. She had to prove that her plan to reorganize the magazine would work not only now but also for the long term.
The magazine had been on the verge of shutting down when Quentin Rousseau II reached out to her. To say she was surprised by his call was an understatement. She had interned for him in college. He had been wickedly smart and savvy. He took a liking to her. For two summers, she absorbed every bit of knowledge he’d been willing to impart to her. In those days, the magazine still had some integrity. It was in more recent years that fact-checking took a backseat to the sensational headlines.
Quentin Rousseau II had been good to her—he’d even brushed off Elsa’s well-planted