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‘I’ll have a double espresso.’
‘Latte for me, please,’ April supplied.
He allowed himself to study her for a moment, telling himself it was a simple assessment to enable him to read her better. And if it unsettled her a little—well, all the better.
Dark auburn hair framed a heart-shaped face. Vivid green eyes of a colour he had never seen before—darker and softer than emerald—brought to mind forests and elven folklore. Her face held an allure that she seemed genuinely unaware of—there was no attempt at being coy, nor any overt flirtatiousness in her body language. And yet he could sense a simmer of awareness—the type of awareness that made his gaze linger a little too long on her generous lips, on the graceful tilt of her neck...
Stop. Get with the plan.
The point was to unsettle April, not himself. This situation was dangerous, and he needed to keep focused on what was important. April Fotherington’s lips definitively did not come under that category.
‘So...’ he said.
‘So?’ she returned.
‘Why don’t you tell me what your angle is?’
Tipping her head slightly to one side, she contemplated him. No doubt wondering how little she could disclose and get away with.
Seeing the waiter approach, he raised a hand. ‘Hang on. Our coffee’s here.’
They both waited in silence as their drinks were carefully deposited in front of them, and then for a few more beats until the waiter was out of earshot.
‘Go ahead,’ he said.
She blew out an exaggerated puff of air. ‘Telling you is a non-starter. Once I tell you, you’ll try and kill the story.’
‘Yes. We both know that. But if you don’t tell me you’ll lose all access to the Prince and his bride and we’ll call in a different magazine.’
A frown creased her forehead. ‘Isn’t this overkill? All I’ve done is have a chat to your sister.’
‘Not true, April, and we both know it. You also met with Brian Sewell.’
The anger he’d felt at that discovery resurfaced, and he forced his body to remain relaxed, his voice almost casual.
Her whole body stilled, but other than that she gave no indication of guilt. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Did you approach him?’
‘No. He approached me. I understand he is a great proponent of democracy and I wanted a different perspective to put into the article. I won’t apologise for that.’
‘I’m not asking for an apology. I’m asking you not to pursue whatever line he has cast.’
Green eyes met his with cool aplomb. ‘I can’t do that. If there is a story there I need to follow it.’
‘Even if it isn’t the story you have been commissioned to write?’
‘Maybe it’s a better story.’
‘And that’s all you care about, isn’t it? The story? Circulation? Your reputation? And never mind the collateral damage.’
‘No!’ Her eyes flashed sparks at him as she pushed her cup away and leant across the table. ‘I care about the truth. And if this story is true then clearly all you care about is covering up the truth.’
‘I will tell you exactly what I care about. I care about Lycander. I care about my country and its people.’
‘Then surely you believe that “your” people deserve the truth? That is all I want to discover. The truth.’
The fervour with which she spoke was quiet but absolute, and for a second it caused him to pause.
‘Then perhaps you should choose your sources more carefully.’
‘Meaning...?’
‘Meaning Brian Sewell is not exactly a credible source. Plus, as I heard it, he was pretty plastered at your lunch yesterday—I’m not sure his drunken ramblings will stand up to scrutiny.’
Her green eyes narrowed and her entire body vibrated with outrage. ‘Are you spying on me?’
‘No. But I am keeping tabs on Brian Sewell. He is a dissident of the worst type.’
‘There is no crime in being a dissident.’
‘No, but there is a crime in organising and encouraging violent rallies—mobs made up of people who simply want an excuse to legitimise violence and mayhem.’
‘Then why haven’t you arrested him?’
Because the man was more slippery than a jellied eel. He played the part of a concerned citizen who simply wished to advocate a voice for democracy to perfection, but in reality he was no more than the leader of a criminal gang of nutters.
‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, believe me, and as soon as I have a watertight case against him Sewell will be behind bars.’
‘Well, I believe a man is innocent until proved guilty, and right now Brian Sewell looks perfectly credible to me.’
‘Brian Sewell is dangerous and manipulative.’
She snorted—there was no other word for it.
‘Please give me some credit. I am not an idiot and I have no intention of being manipulated. If his claims don’t stack up I won’t publish them—or even refer to them in any form.’
‘By then it may be too late—Sewell has spun you a web of dirt, and dirt sticks. To investigate you will have to ask questions, and then the story will gain momentum—the type of momentum that people like Sewell will harness. Then it won’t matter whether it is true or not—the ramifications for Frederick will be huge, as well as casting a blight over his wedding.’
She shook her head. ‘This still doesn’t make sense. I get that you may be worried—but this worried? You must have to deal with stuff like this all the time. There must be plenty of people opposed to the monarchy, and I am quite sure you are more than capable of dealing with them and their stories. You’ve got your tightie-whities in a knot over this one because you think I may have something explosive—something true.’
There was a pause—then horror etched her face, along with a tinge of disbelief, and despite the seriousness of the conversation a smile tipped his lips.
‘Lucky for me, I don’t wear tightie-whities.’
The flush deepened and he knew with crystal clarity that she was wondering exactly what he did wear... And suddenly СКАЧАТЬ