Page 50 of Daring to Love

12

Finlay

Rage the likes of which I’ve never felt before consumes me as I storm through the newsroom ignoring the murmurings of my co-workers the further I get to my editor’s office. My steps eat up the distance and I crumble the paper in my fist, tossing it on his desk before I slam his door shut.

“Well, well, well.” He sits back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “Look what the cat dragged in. How kind of you to cease ignoring me.”

The sarcasm isn’t lost on me, but I’m too enraged to care, instead pointing down on the offending paper.

“What the fuck is that?” I seethe.

“Why, it’s your story about Amelie Winters, the most talented dancer in the world. And,” he chuckles darkly, “apparently also your girlfriend.”

“You’re not printing that.”

He blinks innocently at me.

“I already did. I think it’s your best work yet, Jensen. The passion with which you describe her is astounding, I have to say. You should be proud.” He chuckles as he winks lewdly at me. “Not to mention her background…oh, this is the scoop of the millennia, lad.”

I rest my palms on the desk as I tower over him. For the first time, panic rises in my chest, but I harden my gaze.

“Everything I wrote was fucking private, Erik, and you know it.”

He shrugs and stands up. My fingers itch to wipe that fucking smirk off his face and I have to physically force myself not to punch him in the nose.

“Nothing is private when you use the paper’s resources, and you forget, dear boy, that your laptop is our property. And then there’s the matter that your word program is linked to our software. Every day you wrote something, it was like I was there, reading over your shoulder. I’m very surprised you forgot about that. Miss Winters must be very…alluring.”

His laughter grates on my nerves and I ball my fists tightly.

“I had to cull out all the fluff,” he goes on to wipe his hand in the air. “I wouldn’t be the editor I am if I didn’t, however the main story is still yours.”

“You forget about the contract, Erik. Her solicitors will crucify you. They’ll shut down the paper.”

He tuts as she leans back on his desk and crosses his arms.

“I doubt it. Our legal department will hash it out between them, but if the worst happens and we end up having to retract it, the damage is still done, and our readers will wonder if Amelie Winters is indeed the love child between a member of the royal family and some, as yet, unidentified man.”

That’s done it. I take two steps closer and only stop when we’re nose to nose.

“You’re a bastard, Erik.”

His triumphant smile disappears at once, his nostrils flaring.

“Careful, Jensen. I’m still your boss.”

I shake my head, ignoring the ache around my heart.

This is going to shatter Amelie.

It will destroy her and us.

“I quit.”

Surprise glints his eyes, and his jaw grows slack.

“You can’t do that, Jensen. You’re a journalist, for God’s sake. This is what we do: we tell the stories, no matter the costs!”

I turn around and walk back the way I came.