Dirty Headlines Page 23

  “Between making dirty headlines, maybe Mr. Laurent should teach you that revealing sources is a big no-no in our industry.” Milton recovered, smirking devilishly.

  “We don’t make dirty headlines.” I scowled.

  “You’re about to.” Milton’s ears pinked, as they did when adrenaline ran through him.

  Was he threatening me?

  He scrubbed his jaw, turned around, and punched the red-brick fencepost behind him. “Motherfucker! Have you lost your mind, Jude? Célian Laurent is not your boyfriend. He’s not even your friend. He is your well-heeled boss, and you, baby…” He shook his head, chuckling. “You’re wearing Chucks. He’ll marry the Davis girl, like the entire elite society of New York expects him to. I’m offering you security. I can make you an honest woman. I cheated. You cheated. Let’s call it even and move on.”

  I cheated?

  I cheated?

  I bit my tongue so hard the metallic taste of blood rolled inside my mouth.

  “Can I ask you for something, Milton?”

  He leaned against the fence, his tense expression unknotting into a forgiving smile. “Baby, of course.”

  “Stay away from me. And I do mean for good. Even if you hadn’t cheated on me—which you did, several times, I still wouldn’t take you back. My relationship with Célian Laurent—if it even exists—is none of your business, never will be. But just for the record, everything I did or didn’t do with other people was well after I caught you giving your boss an item that’s above your paygrade. And before you even think of threatening me by telling my father the truth, don’t worry—I will tell him myself. Right now, in fact. As for the rest of the world—I don’t care. This is not goodbye. This is bad-bye. The bye that ends on a sour note, with us cutting ties completely.”

  I turned around and walked home, not bothering to look back and see his reaction. I walked in the door, and Dad was in the shower. The fact that he was feeling well enough to have one on his own without me in the house made butterflies stretch their wings inside my chest. I marched over to the Scrabble on the table—they were mid-game when we’d left—and changed the letters from deceiver to defiant and smiled.

  That’s more like it.

  Life is full of surprises.

  There were good surprises, like finding out Jude’s pussy tasted like honeydew and was tighter than my fist. There were also bad surprises, like finding my ex standing inside my apartment, my spare keys dangling from her fingers in triumph, completely naked.

  Again.

  I dropped my suitcase and cracked my neck, walking straight to the bar. Luckily, we’d broken things off before I’d had the chance to become a full-blown alcoholic. Lily certainly looked better behind the mist of hard liquor.

  “Are you officially a nudist? I haven’t seen you with clothes on in a while,” I pondered, unbuttoning the first two buttons of my shirt.

  “You’re funny,” she hissed in what I assumed was meant to be a seductive way.

  “And you’re naked. For a rich girl, you could sure use a new wardrobe. How did you get my keys?”

  Part of me wanted to know, and the other dreaded killing the person who’d given them to her—not that there was a long list to choose from. But if it was someone from the management, they could kiss their job goodbye.

  “Your father let me into your sister’s apartment. She had a spare key, and when the concierge saw me with it, I told him we got back together.”

  Something dropped somewhere in the room, but fuck if I knew what it was. Maybe my heart. I heard the thud of it meeting the floor.

  Camille was the only person I’d let into my apartment freely, and her place was still standing vacant, because none of us had the guts to touch it. Lily had been inside it. Moving things. Taking things. Breathing the same air Camille had. Anger bubbled beneath my skin, and I clutched the glass so hard I heard it cracking softly.

  I stared down as small rivers of blood began paving their way inside my palm.

  “What do you want?”

  “I told your father about your affair with the little blond bitch. He’s really happy for you.”

  “Bet he is, and she’s not a bitch. If you need a point of reference about who is, just look in the mirror. I’ll ask again, before I call security to escort your ass out of here, butt naked. Why. Are. You. Here?”

  “I want us to get back together,” she said after a beat of silence.

  I didn’t even have it in me to laugh. Whatever she was smoking, that shit was made solely of rat poison, laundry detergent, and laxatives.

  “No. Anything else?”

  “I have a case,” she said. “Hear me out.”

  I turned around to face her. The first drip of blood from my cut palm hit my loafer. I ignored it. “A case? Do you even know how to spell the word?”

  She took a step toward me. Funny, for all her nakedness, Lily never forgot to keep her red-soled heels on. I raised a hand, letting her know there was an invisible line between us, and it was not to be crossed. She leaned a hip against my TV stand, unfazed by my bloody palm.

  “I had a long chat with your old man.” She licked her upper lip.

  Interesting choice of words from a woman who’d let him give her mouth-to-mouth with his dick. I raised an eyebrow.

  “He was away this weekend, but he sent someone to open Camille’s apartment for me. We ended up having quite the lengthy conversation, in which he made some interesting points. The first one being that you are exploiting your employee by sleeping with her. And before you say it’s consensual, please try and think of how it would look in the eyes of every single competing network, that the person who pushed the #MeToo movement—that would be you, Célian—is not only sleeping with his reporter, but has actually…” She gasped theatrically, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Paid all of her debt off. And yes, I went through your trash to find your bank statements—for a man who advocates to save the environment, you should really go paperless—and it was totally worth it.”

  A satisfied grin graced her lips. “So what do we have here? A boss sleeping with his poor employee and paying her way out of trouble. To make matters worse, she’s been promoted from the shitty beauty blog to the newsroom, and then promoted as a reporter. You actually fired someone to make room for her. Oopsie daisy—Steve is my mom’s best friend’s son. He told me all about how you looked at her when you had your meeting.”

  Should have known Steve had a few more fuckups in his disaster bag before he left my newsroom. He had a face begging to be punched, and I’d let him walk away with his nose intact. I had no one to blame but myself, really. I ran my red-tainted fingers over my jaw.

  “I’m sure that’s how people are going to see it.” She clucked her tongue, stretching, and she was naked, too naked. I wanted to cover her up with something. A casket, maybe. Lily would look damn good in it.

  “I don’t care how people will see it. I employ Judith Humphry because she is a gifted, hard-working reporter, and I fuck her because she is an excellent lay. Those two have nothing to do with each another.” I was downplaying my entire arrangement with Jude, but I didn’t want Lily to pin this breakup on my employee. It wasn’t fair to Judith, and it was far from being the truth.

  “Is she worth everything you’ve ever worked for?” She pinched her lower lip between her fingers nervously.

  Yes. Yes she is.

  The thought struck me like lightning. Judith was worthy, and I hated that her value kept going up the more the people around me were letting me down. She was hardworking, funny, quirky, and sex on Chucks. She kept up with my sharp tongue, and gave it to me just as good. She brought donuts to work when she knew her colleagues were facing a long, challenging day, and sneaked mini Jack Daniels bottles to Brianna in times I was particularly shitty. When Jessica needed help with her workload, Jude always volunteered, but never made a fuss about it or made sure that I knew. She was so fucking graceful and unassuming, and I knew that even if I lost LBC tomorrow, got kicked out o
f my apartment, stripped out of my inheritance, and sued for every penny I’d ever earned, it still wouldn’t change my value in her eyes. And that was invaluable.

  “Leave,” I snapped, picking up Lily’s dress from my floor, deliberately using my bloody hand to stain her precious Prada number. “And this time, just so we’re on the same page, if you come back here, I will make sure to slap a restraining order on your ass. It won’t be pretty, seeing as you’ll have to move away from Manhattan, and you can hardly find your way in fucking Bloomingdales. Am I clear?”

  “I’ll take this story to all the press. Too many people already know.” She threw herself at me, her fists raining down on my chest. I pushed her away with my dripping palm, hoping to fuck her type of crazy wasn’t contagious.

  “You go do that, Lily. But put some clothes on first. You know, to make an impression.”

  “Why are you fighting us?”

  “Why are you fighting to save us? Us ceased to exist a long time ago. You’re going in circles. We haven’t been together in over a year.”

  Her eyes darted down. “I thought it was going to change. I thought you’d calm down and realize we were compatible after the wedding.”

  Christ. That was her thought process? To think I’d almost married a genius.

  “You thought wrong.”

  Two minutes later, I slammed the door in her face (after she put some clothes on, thank fuck) and fished my phone out of my pocket to text Judith.

  Célian: Lily knows.

  Jude: So does Milton. He was here when I came home. I’m telling my dad the truth about breaking up with him tonight. We need a game plan.

  Célian: George Michael.

  Jude: ?

  Célian: George Michael is our plan. We’re coming out.

  Jude: Did you just make a Grayson joke?

  Célian: Is that Gary’s real name?

  Jude:

  Célian: At any rate, Lily is threatening to blackmail me by claiming I’m harassing you. Am I fucking you against your will, Miss Humphry?

  Jude: No. But I don’t want the stigma of being “that girl” at work.

  Célian: What stigma is that? We’re not getting married. We’re fucking each other casually and consensually. No one is getting promoted anytime soon.

  Jude: Right.

  I wanted to diminish the weight she had in my world, knowing it could very well crush me if I wasn’t careful.

  I hated how the thought of coming clean and telling everyone we were together secretly appealed to me, even though it was about to kill my reputation and make Judith’s life twenty times harder at work.

  Most of all, I hated that I was going to hurt her.

  Not because she deserved it, but because I didn’t know how not to.

  Guilt nibbled at my gut as Dad exclaimed how happy he was for me. For us.

  Of course, I’d sugarcoated the situation to the point that it looked like a churro.

  Instead of telling him I was now blissfully single and screwing my heartless boss, I painted a picture in soft pinks and vivid baby blues, in which Célian and I had fallen desperately in love with and decided to be together. He swallowed the entire thing and asked for seconds—came clean about the experimental treatment and said he loved Célian like a son. Like. A. Son.

  Dad begged me to invite Célian for dinner in the capacity of a normal couple, and I caved, mostly because I knew Célian would not turn us down. Since he’d opted for not getting back with Lily, any united front we were going to offer would surely help our case. Plus, who the hell knew what we were?

  Sometimes it felt like a relationship.

  Oftentimes like a dirty secret.

  Sometimes he ran cold.

  Many times he burned hot.

  On Monday morning, everyone walked into the first rundown meeting looking grim and overworked. I placed Kipling on the desk and slid into my usual seat, popping open a big white box of donuts.

  “Habit’s gonna get you broke, girl.” Kate picked a chocolate-glazed one, greeting me by bumping her thigh against my shoulder.

  “That’s like threatening a nun with a crucifix. I already am.” I licked the powdered sugar off a pastry as Jessica handed Kate and me some coffee.

  “How was your weekend?” they both asked in unison, but Kate peppered the question with a knowing grin.

  She and Célian were close, but he was still a vault, so I opted for vagueness.

  “Relaxing?” Oh, sweet. I put a question mark there. That wasn’t suspicious.

  “That’s one thing I don’t believe.”

  The entire room raised a collective eyebrow as Célian breezed through the door. He looked both pissed and perfect in a pale gray suit, his frown was so deep I could barely make out his eyes. Brianna shadowed his steps, sliding his Starbucks and iPad in front of his seat.

  “I would ask how everyone’s weekend was, but that would imply that I give a fuck. And I don’t, because we have bigger fish to fry. I’m talking whale-sized ocean creatures. This is the first and last time I will address this subject, so feel free to never ask me again.”

  He dumped his phone and some documents on the desk, shooing his PA away. “LBC just signed a clusterfuck of an ad deal with a marketing firm that specializes in alcohol, condoms, and gambling. You will hear about it in the media and in your local high-end bars and on goddamn Twitter. Do not engage. As far as we’re concerned, we’re making unbiased news. Period. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded solemnly. Elijah raised his hand to ask something. Célian fell into his chair with a sigh. “Is it about the deal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t wanna hear it. Let’s get to business.”

  James Townley looked up from a newspaper he was holding. “Anything else you’d like to address?”

  Célian shot him a look. “Are you referring to your fake tan problem? Because I can hold an intervention, but probably not until next week. Busy schedule and all.”

  “I’m talking about the elephant in the room.” James frowned, concern etching his face. He slapped the newspaper with the back of his hand before boomeranging it toward his director. Célian picked it up, frowned at the little article circled with a yellow highlighter, and slid it my way silently. I picked it up, my heart pounding in my ears. There was no picture. Just text.

  WHO’S THAT GIRL: New York media tycoon Célian Laurent is DUMPED by his fiancée, Miss Lily Davis, after the latter caught him in the act, cheating on her with an employee. The sordid affair is said to be at least a few weeks old. Both parties were unavailable for comment.

  Célian sat back, lacing his fingers together. “Well.”

  Elijah’s eyebrows jumped to his forehead. “You’ll need to elaborate.”

  “It’s true.”

  No, it’s not! I wanted to jump up and yell, as gasps erupted all across the room. He hadn’t cheated on Lily, and she hadn’t caught us in the act. I stared at him, bewildered, feeling my pulse jackhammering against my eyelids. He tilted his chin up, his expression reeking defiance, ignoring me completely.

  “Most of it, anyway. I am in a relationship with Judith Humphry. However, it is not sordid, hardly a secret, and we were never caught in any act. Judith didn’t know about my relationship with Lily when we started dating, and is therefore not at fault. However, her position here has nothing to do with our relationship, which developed after she was appointed as a reporter.” He was calm, cold, and smooth. Everybody’s eyes ping-ponged between us, and my skin was on fire. I felt humiliated and helpless. And most of all, I felt furious at his random confession. When we’d agreed to tell the world, I thought it would be after discussing a strategy. Together.

  “I think we can all agree that Miss Humphry has earned her place in this newsroom and did not need to sleep her way up the corporate ladder.” Célian smoothed a hand along his crisp shirt.

  “Agreed.” Kate reached out, squeezing my hand. I was too stunned to react.


  “I concur.” Elijah raised his palms in surrender.

  “She’s the best.” Jessica regarded me with a frown, probably for keeping mum about getting freaky with the boss.

  I got why a lot of people felt cheated.

  “Junior.” James tossed me a toothy smile. “You’re the real deal. We all know it.”

  But did they? There were at least eight more people in the room, and their silence spoke a thousand words. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one saw me in the same light anymore. To what degree was the real question.

  “Thank you…” I managed, refusing to look back at Célian, who stared at me intently now, trying to read between the lines of my deep frown.

  I didn’t give him anything.

  “With this out of the way…” Célian ran a hand over his square jaw. “Give me something good.”

  “Evidently, Jude already has…” someone coughed from my general direction, but I couldn’t snap my head fast enough to see who it was.

  I don’t think Célian heard it. He wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to berate a cheeky employee.

  Kate began talking about the anti-drugs campaign failure, and Elijah butted in with a debt ceiling lead. Célian looked bored out of his mind, leaning back in his chair and staring into the air, his legs crossed over the desk.

  “Humphry?”

  At least he still called me that, like I was a genderless employee, like nothing had changed. Because nothing had. I was still a career woman. I was just a career woman who slept with her boss because we were both the same type of screwed up.

  I flipped Kipling’s pages, my tongue sticking out of the corner of my mouth.

  “I was talking to this guy last night…” I started.

  “Does Célian know? He always seemed like the possessive type to me,” Elijah joked, tossing his head back and gulping down a bottle of water with a chuckle.