The Brutal Truth

by Lee Winter

  “Superb.” Perry nodded. “I don’t often beg, but we need her for Style. You can’t swan around with this on and not let us do a big write-up.”

  “I’ll ask her.”

  “Good. Must be an exclusive, though. Oh,” he turned, “Elena wanted a word. Meanwhile, I’ll find out what’s keeping Felicity with the drinks.”

  He headed off, and the distracted look on his face told Maddie he was mentally prepping shoots for a Natalii spread.

  Maddie’s eyes slid over to the woman studying her silently. “Hello.”

  Elena’s gaze raked the outfit, and her eyebrow lifted. A hint of a smile dusted her lips. “Very chic. Elegant. Like mother, like daughter. I see she’s not just a pretty face.”

  “No, she’s not.” Silence fell. Maddie fidgeted. “About the article—”

  Elena’s expression lost its lightness. “Did I anger you that much at the last ball? Or did you merely seek to advance your career through my suffering?”

  Oh hell. Elena really was mad. “It wasn’t about you. You were no factor in my decision to run it.” Maddie begged her to see the truth in her eyes. “You were, almost, a factor in my decision not to. But in the end…” In the end she’d known she was right to do it. “In the end, I had to.”

  “Well.” Elena took a sip of her drink.

  “Well what?”

  “Well done. It’s important journalism. And a fine piece of writing.”

  “Wait, you’re not mad at me?”

  “You believed I would be so petty as to put my personal feelings ahead of the well-being of vulnerable people? I can’t say I’m pleased to be at the centre of so tawdry a controversy tearing apart my industry, but your feature was honest, balanced, avoided clichés, and repeatedly pointed out who the true villains were.”

  “What about Richard?”

  “Terrified. And frothing,” Elena said with an evil smile. “So, there is that at least. He’s suddenly being extra accommodating with the terms of our divorce. On that note, he had been encouraged to make several sizable donations to women’s shelters around New York to avoid being named and shamed. But now your story’s out, I’m informed he’s shaking in his size-twelve boots that someone will put two and two together and reach Richard Barclay.”

  “I’m sorry by the way. About the divorce.”

  “I’m not.” Elena regarded her for a moment. “Let’s change the subject. What were you doing with Theresa Hunter? Give her a wide berth.”

  “Why?”

  Elena’s eyes narrowed. “Because I’ve suggested it. She’s notorious.”

  “You do know I don’t work for you anymore,” Maddie said. Her indignation rose. “You know I don’t have to run my friends or romantic interests past you either.”

  “Romantic interests? You must be joking. That snake?”

  Maddie winced. This was getting derailed fast. “Right, stop. Look, can we…restart this conversation? I’m not interested in dating Theresa Hunter. We talked for a minute. Not even that. Okay? Could you please stop assuming I’m into everyone who shows an interest in me? First Lucas, now this woman?”

  Elena said nothing, but her expression relaxed.

  “Come on,” Maddie said, more softly, “why do you do that? Is that what you think of me? That I’m just waiting for anyone to pay me the slightest bit of attention and I’m all into them now?”

  Elena regarded her. “If you could see yourself as I do, you’d also expect everyone in the room to make an approach.”

  Maddie started at the unexpected words. “That’s flattering, but for the record, I have no interest in some war photographer who asks me to dish the dirt on my sources and then uses her job title as a pick-up line.”

  “She truly is a snake.” Elena’s lips thinned. “I was not exaggerating.”

  “No, you weren’t, but it’s irrelevant.” She sucked in a deep breath. “We’ve danced all around it, but you have to know by now that I only have eyes for one woman. And it’s not her.”

  “Madeleine,” Elena’s tone was low and held a hint of warning. “We can’t. I mean—”

  “You told me, last time we met, there’s no ‘we’.” Maddie studied her. “That there couldn’t be. It’s impossible. You say things like that, and yet you still act like you want more. And then you shut the whole conversation down, like now. Can you just tell me what you want? It’s so confusing.”

  “I could say the same of you.” Elena flicked some lint off Maddie’s sleeve, with a careless sweep of her fingertips. “You say you can predict what I need and want, but on this you seem so unsure. I have explained why I cannot make promises or offer any hope.”

  “But you’re no longer married.”

  “I’m not divorced yet, either, and I cannot ignore the fact that the paint’s barely dry on my separation. I’m the owner of a company that has hundreds of thousands of employees, has a turnover of just under a billion dollars. If I make one wrong move, the share price plunges. If they sense weakness or scandal, investors flee. I cannot put a foot wrong. Tell me you can understand that.”

  “That sounds like hell.”

  “Hell?”

  “Yeah. The worst.”

  Elena’s eyes narrowed. “So now you minimise what I do? Do you even grasp how powerful I am? How important my position is? This is nothing to shrug at. It comes with enormous responsibility. You have no idea how—”

  “You’re not powerful enough to choose your own path. That’s what I hear. You’re actually less in control of your life than I am—and I am close to a nobody. Was this really your dream? You can’t ever make mistakes. Can’t put a foot wrong. Won’t take a chance. I’m sorry, but to me it sounds terrible.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “I understand that you’re scared of making even one wrong move. It’s sad. And a shame too. You know, there’s a reason you loved my blog—it’s because we see the world the same way. We’re very different, but in all the important ways, we get each other. You feel it, too, or we wouldn’t even be doing this…confusing dance. We think alike, appreciate determination, laugh at the same things, observe the world in a similar way, as outsiders. And I know you secretly like my Latvian folk music, so don’t bother denying it,” she added with a smile. “Do you know how rare and beautiful it is for two watchful, lonely souls like us to find each other?”

  Elena said nothing, but it was all there in her eyes. Doubt. Fear. And something else that made Elena’s jaw set hard.

  Perry returned with Felicity in tow, bearing drinks, which they handed out.

  Felicity blinked rapidly as she took in Maddie’s outfit. “Good God. Perry wasn’t wrong. Of course you get to wear that masterpiece. Because your winning streak isn’t long enough.”

  Maddie opened her mouth, ready to suggest she stow the attitude, when Elena interrupted.

  “Perry, please liaise with Madeleine about setting up Natalii Duchamp for a spread. The designer’s concept outfit shows promise.”

  Perry’s eyes flicked between the two women. “Of course. Um…”

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a headache. Felicity, get Amir to bring the car around. I need to leave.”

  Felicity scampered off to find a quieter spot to make the call. Perry turned away to nab a passing hors d’oeuvre.

  “Please, don’t go,” Maddie said in a murmur the moment his back was turned. “Not over what I said. Come on, stay. It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

  “Nothing has changed from earlier,” Elena said in a low voice. “I have already explained my position.”

  “Please,” Maddie tried again. “I think we…”

  She petered out when she realised Perry’s attention was back on them. His gaze darted between them, his mouth forming an O.

  Elena saw the look, turned on heel, and stalked away.

  Dismay filled Maddie as she watched her go.

  “Why’s she leaving?” Perry’s brows knitted. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothin
g.” Maddie sipped on her drink.

  Perry gave her a sceptical look and sloshed the liquid around in his glass.

  “What?” she asked him.

  “Just promise me one thing.” He gave her a stern look. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  “Huh? I don’t know what—”

  “She’s fragile right now. I know she doesn’t look it, but I’ve seen this before, back when CQ threw her over for Emmanuelle. It gutted her. I know the look. She’s hanging by a thread, thanks to that bastard of a husband. I swear, if you turn around and break her, I will be a most disagreeable human being.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Perry.”

  “Sure you don’t,” he said, watching his boss’s retreating form. He slugged a mouthful of booze and gave her a grim look. “Sure you don’t.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Red

  When Maddie got home, she found Natalii sitting on her sofa. She’d told her to make herself at home earlier, when she’d come by to fit Maddie’s designer suit, do her make-up, and make sure she was appropriately magnifique for the evening. She’d obviously stayed. A pizza box and red wine were on the coffee table, and the Frenchwoman was now busy shouting at the TV screen.

  “Non! Not her. This is insanity.” She glanced up as Maddie slumped onto the sofa beside her. “Look at her. She is one of the top models? Nonsense!”

  Maddie peered at the screen to see an array of wannabes for America’s Next Top Model.

  “See her face? It is like the moon landing. Craters everywhere. Her eyes—they are crossed, you see? And what is that blind homme saying? She has an alien mystique? What is this? Alien mystique? Is she green? Non! This cannot be real.”

  Maddie gave her a wan smile. Her stomach grumbled, as she looked at what was left of a Mario’s pizza. She hadn’t eaten all evening because she’d been so stressed about seeing Elena again.

  Natalii nudged the pizza box over. “There is more. I was having the, what is it you say? New York experience.”

  “Ah.” Maddie reached for a slice and a serviette. “Say no more.”

  Natalii regarded her. “You did not have a magnifique night, then?” Disappointment edged her tone. “Your lady did not appreciate your…” She waved a hand over Maddie’s outfit.

  “She liked it very much.” Maddie took a bite. Flavours exploded across her tongue. God, just what I needed. A fatty, greasy hit to drown my sorrows. She chewed and swallowed. “Everyone did. That reminds me—expect your design all over the blogosphere tonight. The fashion reporters loved it.”

  Natalii did not smile, although her eyes brightened with pleasure. “That is good, but I did not do this for them. What of you? What has happened?”

  Maddie took another bite, feeling sharp eyes studying her closely. “Elena left early. We had a…um, like, a mini fight. Well, not even.”

  “A fight?” Natalii’s eyes widened.

  “Sort of.” Maddie felt morose just saying it.

  Without a word, Natalii took four steps into the adjacent, open-plan kitchen and fished out another wine glass. She returned, topped it up—high—with a red wine, and handed it to her. “Now, tell me. What it is you two found to argue about at a silly ball?”

  Maddie sipped the wine and was astonished by how delicious it was. Her gaze flew to the label. Ah. French—of course.

  “She objected to a woman she saw me with, who I didn’t know and had no interest in knowing. She warned me off.”

  “And then?”

  “I told her she wasn’t my boss anymore and couldn’t dictate my friends or…” Maddie paused. Ouch. “…um, romantic interests.”

  Okay, that sounded so bad in the retelling.

  Natalii’s eyebrows shot up.

  Maddie gave her pizza a sheepish look. “We kind of backed away from that mess. But then she said she wasn’t divorced yet, and she couldn’t risk anything, she’s the boss of half the fucking universe, and why can’t I understand that?” That really had stung.

  “Madeleine, why did you let her think this other woman might be of romantic interest if she was not? Ahh.” Natalii snapped her fingers. “You wished her to be jealous. Green!” She smirked. “Well then, this game of amour, it is on!” She raised her glass and drank, as though she considered Maddie some sort of master tactician.

  “I didn’t want her jealous! And I’m really just mad at how she feels too afraid to take a chance. I wish she would.”

  “Did you forget the bit about how she says she is not divorced yet. She wishes to be considered. Later.”

  “Yet I asked her to talk to me more about this, and she just left. I’m tired of being the one who has to piece everything together. Why can’t she just, for once in her life, stop being so cryptic? Can’t she remember she’s The Elena Bartell! This is hard for us mere mortals.”

  She gulped down the rest of her wine and stuck her glass out at Natalii, who refilled it.

  “It appears that you are overthinking this thing,” Natalii said. “What we need is to get you drunk so you do not. You need to relax more. You are far too uptight. And in my divine outfit no less? Non, I did not design this for you to be all so pent up.”

  Maddie glanced down at herself and was appalled to find she was sprawled all over the sofa in Natalii’s designer outfit. “Oh! Oh God!” She sat up. “I should get changed. I’m so sorry.”

  Lifting a stilling hand, Natalii shook her head. “It is okay. It is yours to wear as you please. But get changed anyway, for I plan to make you merry enough to forget your woman.”

  Maddie stood. “Oh, that reminds me. Perry Marks? At Style New York? He wants to feature your line in a spread.”

  “Does he now?” Natalii’s eyes sharpened. “And what did you tell him?”

  “I said I’d ask you.”

  Natalii’s face broke into slow smile that Maddie was sure did not bode well for someone. “Thank you for passing this detail to me. I will talk to your Perry myself tomorrow. Now go…find a garment that says ‘drunk and carefree with my stylish friend Natalii’.”

  Maddie laughed and headed to her bedroom to change.

  * * *

  Maddie woke with a throbbing head, unable to believe she was still alive given the hangover she was experiencing. She rolled over and cracked an eyelid. A glass of water and an aspirin came into view with a note. She picked it up and tried to focus.

  Thank you for the excellent night, dear Madeleine. I’m gone now. A meeting, it is now set up with your Perry. Drink up, and call me later. We will do dinner, oui? Natalii.

  Maddie groaned. The thought of food was excruciating. Her gaze fell to her cell phone beside her bed. God, the time! It was almost eleven.

  There was a sharp rap at her door.

  She struggled to her feet and made her way there on autopilot. She was already opening the door when she realised she hadn’t brushed her hair or changed out of her sleeping shorts and tank top.

  Elena Bartell stood there, face like thunder.

  Maddie blinked at the furious woman, unsure whether she was dreaming. No, she was fairly sure that if she was dreaming; Elena would not be looking at her like this.

  “Ele…” she began.

  “What is this?” Elena said with a hiss, barging past her and slamming the door behind her.

  Maddie winced and held her head. “Not so loud. And please, come in,” she added sarcastically.

  Elena waved a piece of paper at her as though it explained everything.

  Maddie tried to read the words, but Elena was flapping it too hard. “I thought I had made my position clear. And then you run off with her?”

  “I…what! Who?” Maddie blinked.

  Elena glanced around the room, pausing on the two wine glasses and pizza boxes. “She loves greasy food, I take it? Hunter?”

  “How the hell would I know? I didn’t take anyone home, least of all that arrogant woman.”

  Elena’s nostrils flared. “Two glasses, Madeleine. Were y
ou merely drinking for two?”

  “Natalii was here. She wanted to see how her outfit went.”

  That gave Elena pause. But then she straightened, and her expression took on a whole new type of wrath. “Ah, yes. Natalii. Which brings me to this.”

  She flapped the paper under Maddie’s nose again. “Her conditions for agreeing to be featured in a Style spread are that I must present myself to you, alone, and talk for ‘no less than one hour about matters that do not relate to work or fashion’. What nonsense is this? Why did you demand this? Well?”

  “I didn’t.” Maddie sighed and rubbed her face. She was in no condition for this meeting. “I just woke up. This is the first I’ve heard of it. Natalii probably thinks she’s being helpful.”

  Elena stopped and stared at her properly, her gaze raking Maddie’s sleepwear and then settling on her hair. It was an odd expression.

  Maddie reddened. “On that note, I should probably get some clothes on. Um…make yourself at home. Or leave. Whatever. I won’t force you to stay. I’ll tell Natalii you did what she demanded.”

  After shuffling into her bedroom, Maddie closed the door and slid on jeans and a white T-shirt. As she pulled on her socks, she wondered if Elena had gone, storming out in a state of high dudgeon. Probably while laughing at her for looking like a half-dead cat. She glanced at the mirror and groaned. Her hair looked as if it had been brushed with a balloon, it was sticking up so high. Awesome.

  Maddie ran a brush through the bird’s nest and put on a little make-up to hide the darkness under her eyes. She took one last look in the mirror. Okay, casual and relatively acceptable. For most people who weren’t Elena Bartell. Curator of beauty.