Miss White and the Seventh Heir

Her tone hadn’t been one of passion. Instead there had been an urgency to her voice. So if she was having a nightmare, why would she cry out to him? It was just one more thing for him to ponder about his beautiful boss.

They had just collected their photo badges and were standing outside the doors of the Cannes Exhibition Centre. Sage was pleased to find their badges were marked with a red dot containing the letter R. It granted them access to red-carpet screenings.

Trey may have grown up in Cannes, but he’d never been that involved with the festival. So, much like Sage, he was figuring it out as they went along.

People strolled by in stylish clothes. Some were famous, others weren’t. All smiled brightly when there was a camera pointed in their direction.

He glanced over at Sage as a smile lit up her face. She wasn’t wasting any time trying to save her...er...his magazine. He didn’t like that they were on opposite sides of keeping the magazine. Still, he couldn’t help but applaud her resilience.

“Hello.” Sage stepped forward and held out her hand to the female lead in an upcoming action film. “I’m Sage White with QTR Magazine—”

The young actress immediately withdrew her hand. “I can’t talk to you. I’ve heard about your magazine.”

“But you don’t understand—”

“I understand enough.” The young woman turned and walked away as fast as she could on those five-inch heels.

Sage turned a worried gaze in his direction. He didn’t know what to tell her. His father had done quite a number on the magazine—taking it from stellar reporting to the depths of heresy. They were lucky his father hadn’t put headlines of UFO sightings on the cover.

The magazine had been in Trey’s family for generations. Each generation had made their mark on it. Way, way back in the beginning, the magazine had started here in France.

A few generations later, it had been relocated to the States. New York to be exact. But then Trey’s great-grandfather had moved it to Los Angeles. He was a big fan of John Wayne. But when it came time for Trey’s father to put his mark upon the publication, it was all about profits. It didn’t matter how he got them. He’d taken the Rousseau name and dragged it through the mud.

And now it was up to Trey to put an end to it all. But perhaps Sage’s idea for the magazine wasn’t a bad one—but would anyone even give her a chance? As time went by, she didn’t get past a greeting before people moved on.

“Perhaps we should try again tomorrow,” Trey said, feeling bad for her. “When people aren’t in such a rush.”

“I can’t stop now. I haven’t even gained one new contact.”

He’d give her a gold star for effort. “But it’s only the first day of the festival. People are still getting settled in. There are still ten more days to go.”

“I know. But I had a goal to gain at least one good contact per day. You don’t understand how important this is.” Sage started walking.

Trey kept pace with her. “Maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself.”

She cast him a sideways glance. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

He did believe it, but he also knew she wasn’t in the mood to hear his observations right now.

He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small envelope. “Perhaps this will help.”

She had to admit that she was very curious. “What is it?”

“I’ve secured us an invitation to the Red Heart Gala tonight.”

“You what?” Her mouth gaped. “But that party is totally exclusive. I heard some of the stars couldn’t even get invitations.”

“See. The problem with them is they don’t know the right people.” He sent her a big smile.

“And who might that be?”

“I don’t know if you can be trusted with this highly sensitive information. If it leaks out, I might lose my source.” He winked, letting her know that he was teasing her.

“I swear no one will hear from me. Now spill.”

“It’s Maria.”

“Maria?” It took her a second to figure out who he meant. “You mean, Maria—that works at the château?”