Page 35 of Tabloid Princess

Her eyes widened and she grabbed her pad of paper and pulled it across her desk. I slipped out the room as she gave me a thumbs up.

I couldn’t help but smile at the good fortune landing on these amazing people who deserved it, but there was a dark voice whispering in my ear that the cost to my own preservation may have been a little too high.

By five we had a logo and considering Emilia sketched it on the back of a napkin from the café, it was pretty damn good. A stick person holding balloons under a rainbow, it had a loopy hand-written type, not font. It looked like a doodle and I enjoyed the irony of it.

I showed it around, but then dropped the thing when long fingers reached for it. “May I?”

I had a serious issue looking him in the face. The carpet was very, very interesting right now.

“Sure.” I handed it over, careful not to touch him in any way.

He was quiet for a long pause until finally I had no choice but to look up, even if only to check he hadn’t fallen asleep.

He wasn’t staring at the paper, but instead at me.

“Can I borrow this for a moment?” His already low and musical voice dipped another notch—hitting me right in the lower stomach.

“Sure.” My vocabulary knew no bounds.

He walked off and gave it to Freya, who quickly skimmed it over and then glanced at me. I studied my fingernails and waited for him to return it.

“Thanks.” He gave it back to me once Freya had taken a copy.

I wanted to ask what he needed it for, but I held back. I’d proved twice now I couldn’t have a conversation with him without being rude. Best not to speak at all. For Janine’s sake.

Definitely for Janine’s sake.

Eight

Journalists surrounded the office the next morning. I pushed through them already knowing who would be inside.

A couple of cameras flashed in my face and I ducked my head down. “Hey!” I called out and was met with a couple of hearty laughs.

“Sorry, love, I was aiming for the front door.”

Well, that was rude. How big did they think my arse was?

Inside I dumped my stuff on my desk. My mood, already frazzled from a lack of sleep, had pitched off the cliff of reasonability.

“What the hell?” I grumbled pulling at the sheer scarf I’d wrapped around my neck. I thought it would look glamorous; but given how much I was sweating, it had failed. I didn’t even know why I wanted to look glamorous. I rarely gave a fuck about such things.

“It’s a circus isn’t it?” I jumped at the low murmur next to me. I hadn’t even noticed him in the spare chair. Was I blind? Possibly.

“Why are they here?” I wanted to press a tissue to my face. I knew I’d taken glowing to a new level.

“Because I am.” He shrugged, turning his attention away from his laptop and up to me.

“They go where you go?”

“Mostly.”

He turned then and my gaze dropped from his face—pretty hard to do—to his chest. “Oh my.” I nearly swore. “What are you wearing?”

The grin he switched on, washing away the vulnerability that had shadowed across his face just a second ago, was blinding. “Do you like it?”

The logo I’d given him yesterday was emblazoned across his chest, purple on white.

I had nothing.