“I don’t give a shit about being liked.” Being popular was overrated. I cared about results. Loyalty. Getting things done. Not making it onto people’s Christmas card lists.

“Well, you’re an anomaly in many ways,” she said in a sing-song voice, as if she were telling a child their painting deserved to hang in the National Gallery. “I’m trying to help you. And if you want my help, you need to work with me to show the world the best side of yourself. Show them why you’re the youngest CEO the FTSE 100 has ever seen. Show them you’re sharp, focused, decisive, and most of all—open.”

I didn’t want to need Gretel, but I did. Astro Holdings was my life’s work, my passion, and I’d do whatever it took to ensure my position there was safe. Then again, the prospect of being fired by the board I had created wasn’t even the worst prospect coming down the line in the coming weeks. Being thought of as a moody womanizer was likely to be the least of my problems if what Audrey told me last night was even half right. For the second time in my life, being Mark Alpern’s friend was likely to cost me and the people I cared about. This time, I had to protect myself. Protect Audrey.

“Do you have something in mind?” These photographs the Mercury had were like cutting my hand and going out surfing. If I ignored them, I’d be asking for trouble. When the Mark Alpern bomb eventually dropped, the sharks would circle and finish me off.

“We need an entire campaign designed to cast you in a new light. At the center of it would be an in-depth profile of you in a national broadsheet, like the Post. You give them an all-access pass—no questions or parts of your life or business off-limits.”

That sounded like my worst nightmare. I was far from reclusive, but I liked my privacy. Though I’d never considered myself a playboy, my private life involved me getting naked with women fairly regularly. “I’m not sure that will work.”

“It’s the only thing that will—complete transparency,” she insisted. “Then we’ll build in some charity work, some corporate social responsibility. You’ll have to wine and dine some influential people in the City, but if keeping your position as CEO at Astro is important to you, I’m telling you, this is what it will take.”

Bloody Mark Alpern. If he weren’t the subject of an active police investigation, Audrey and I wouldn’t have been meeting last night and I wouldn’t be having this conversation. This was all his fault.

Assignments of blame aside, my business was at stake. I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice everything I’d worked so hard for. I’d done that once before for Mark, and it wasn’t going to happen a second time.

“Set it up,” I said.

“Consider it done,” she replied. “I have a journalist in mind who’s likely to be a little softer on you. She—”

“I’m at a wedding. I’ll expect something in my diary for Monday.” I didn’t need to know the details. This was Gretel’s opportunity to prove she was as good as everyone said she was. And if she was right, it was also my do-or-die chance to prove I was as good as I’d always believed.

Two

Madison

Standing under a sunny sky with a full champagne glass in my hand, watching the bride and groom, I really had nothing to complain about.

Except that I hated weddings.

I especially hated weddings where the only people I knew were the ones getting married. I smiled as Noah made Truly laugh by whispering something in her ear. The photographer hovered around them, capturing snap after snap of evidence of their joy, their love. If anyone deserved it, Truly did. I was genuinely delighted to be here, to see her have her happily ever after. I just wished I didn’t have to feel this . . . awkward. There was nothing like a wedding to make a single person feel alone.

If I’d still been at Rallegra magazine, I could occupy myself with figuring out how to spin the weekend into a listicle: How to Survive a Wedding Without a Plus One or Wedding Hook-Ups: I Do or I Don’t? But now I was trying to fulfil my dream and become a proper, serious journalist. Weddings simply wouldn’t inspire the kind of content my editor was looking for, unless I managed to uncover an investigative gold mine. Inhumane work conditions at the glitter factory, perhaps, or the seedy underbelly of floral arrangement. Long shots, all.

After taking the plunge to start freelancing so I could pursue more serious, hard-edged journalism, I’d landed a maternity leave, covering for a writer at the Post. The Post—I could barely believe it. A couple of times, I’d considered taking a pillow to work and sleeping under my desk, I was so desperate to get the most out of the opportunity.

Tags: Louise Bay Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net