Miss White and the Seventh Heir

Elsa undid a button on his shirt. “If you make this good, I promise you’ll receive a bonus you’ll never forget.”

Hunter’s dark eyes met hers. There was the fire of desire burning in them, which only excited Elsa more. She loved when she could control people, whether it was in the office or in bed.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. There was no gentle foreplay. There was hunger. Need. And lust. And he was going to do just fine for scratching her itch.

She pulled back. “Now explain your cryptic remark. Her assistant isn’t really her assistant. How is that possible?”

“For some reason that I don’t understand, the man acting as Sage’s assistant is really Quentin Thomas Rousseau III.”

Elsa leaned back on the couch. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. “And you say Sage doesn’t know his true identity?”

Hunter shook his head. “Not as far as I can tell.”

“Very interesting.” So what was the young Rousseau up to? Was he going to be an asset to her plans? Or had he fallen under Sage’s spell like so many men before him?

“I need all the information you can find about the young Rousseau. Is there anything else I should know about?”

“Actually, Sage just landed a most sought after interview with Starr.”

This news darkened Elsa’s mood. She got to her feet and moved to the drink cart to refill her cognac. She took a mouthful of the fiery liquid and swallowed. Her gaze lifted to the mirror that hung over the drink cart. Elsa stared at her beautiful image. Usually it made her feel better, but not tonight. As she smoothed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she couldn’t help but think of her stepdaughter. Maybe the girl had grown more of a backbone than she’d originally thought.

“This interview, will it help her magazine?”

Hunter nodded. “Definitely. From what I gather, it should be a cover spot.”

Still holding the glass of cognac, Elsa’s hand tightened around the crystal glass. How dare that worthless girl try and beat her in her own arena. Elsa was the queen of publishing. There was no room for Sage.

Elsa caught her image in the mirror. For a moment, she looked older—second best. Anger pumped through her veins.

Elsa turned to Hunter. “I want you to set up an appointment with the actress before her interview with Sage. I don’t care what she has planned. Tell her to cancel it.”

Hunter’s dark eyes widened as though to complain about not being her secretary. But as though he sensed the danger in disagreeing with her at that moment, he said, “I will go take care of it now.”

“Not yet.” She strode toward him in her stilettos. “I have something else in mind for you.”

She had to do something with all of her pent-up energy or she would explode. When she reached him, she placed a hand behind his head and pulled him down to her lips.

And tomorrow—tomorrow I will deal with Sage. She will not win. Never!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THREE DAYS OF being brushed off by celebrities.

But today would be different.

Sage had the feeling everything was about to change and she chose to believe it was going to be in a good way. She might not have gotten much sleep after attending a party until the wee hours of the morning, but she felt as though she could conquer the world.

And then there was Trey. Try as she might to forget the kiss and his reaction, it was there with her every day, lurking in the shadows of her mind. But there had been no mention of it and things were getting back to normal.

It was best that she centered her thoughts on work. It always brought her comfort. Tomorrow was her big interview with Starr. She’d already arranged to have the photographer meet them. And just so she didn’t miss anything in her notes, she was going to have Trey record the session. It was all going to work out and this interview was just the beginning. Today she hoped to secure another interview. It was the only way to keep the magazine alive.

She was due for some good luck. Taking a positive attitude, she was singing a tune as she came down the stairs at the château. Not finding Trey inside, she made her way to the veranda. Trey was sitting there reading something on his phone while drinking a cup of coffee.

As soon as he saw her, he put his phone down. “Did I just hear you sing ‘Heigh-Ho’?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You must be hearing things.”

He sent a disbelieving look. “I know what I heard.”