Комбат. Смертельная битва. Андрей Воронин

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      “I’ll leave, as soon as I get that apology.”

      Angela glowered but said nothing. What could she say? “Leave or I’ll call security”? The baseball star was trespassing, but the security guards weren’t going to throw a future hall-of-famer off the property.

      “I don’t want to play hardball with you, Ms. Kelly, but you leave me no choice. Your report was biased and unfounded. Not to mention full of outright lies.”

      When Demetri took another step forward, infringing upon her personal space, she imagined herself smacking the broad grin off his face. But instead of acting on her impulse, Angela faked a smile. It was time to try a different approach because arguing with Demetri Morretti was getting her nowhere. “I’ll give some thought to what you said, and someone from the station will contact you by the end of the week. Okay?”

      Demetri clapped his hands. “Well done, Ms. Kelly. Nicely played. For a second there, I actually believed you were a rational human being.”

      “Well, at least I’m not a—”

      Angela felt a hand on her shoulder and broke off speaking. She turned to her right, and groaned inwardly when she saw her producer, standing beside her, wearing a concerned expression. And worse, everyone in the studio, from the voluptuous makeup artist to the bearded engineer, was now staring at her, with wide eyes and open mouths. How much had her colleagues heard? And why were all of the men in the studio shooting evil daggers at her?

      “Welcome to WJN-TV, Mr. Morretti. I’m Salem Velasquez, one of the head producers.”

      Wearing a tight smile, he nodded and shook the hand she offered.

      “If you have a few moments, I’d love to speak to you in private.”

      “Great. The quicker we resolve this issue the better.”

      “Please follow me. My office is right this way.” Salem motioned to the studio door, and Demetri fell in step beside her.

      Angela stayed put. She didn’t want any part of this meeting, and she had better things to do than listen to Demetri Morretti whine about her report. Anxious to return to her office, she turned around and stalked off in the opposite direction. She needed to vent, and her best friend, Simone, was the perfect person to talk to.

      “Angela!”

      Angela stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart was hammering in her chest. The sharpness of Salem’s tone and the booming sound of her voice made Angela break out in a nervous sweat.

      Glancing over her shoulder confirmed her worst fears. Now her boss and the surly baseball star were glaring at her. The air in the studio was suffocating, so thick with tension, Angela felt as if she was going to faint. And the way Demetri was staring at her—all serious and intense—made her skin prickle with goose bumps.

      “You will be joining us.”

      “Oh, of course,” Angela lied, nodding her head. “I was just going to...to...to...”

      “Whatever it is can wait. Get in my office. Now.”

      I’d rather ride a unicycle naked down the Magnificent Mile, she thought, dragging herself across the studio and past her gawking coworkers.

      * * *

      “Please, Mr. Morretti, have a seat,” Salem said, gesturing to one of the padded chairs in front of her large oak desk. “Make yourself comfortable.”

      The small, cramped office was overrun with bookshelves, knickknacks, and the scent of cinnamon was so heavy in the air, Angela’s stomach grumbled. It had been hours since she had breakfast, but the thought of eating made her feel queasy. So did the way her boss was smiling at Demetri Morretti. He was the enemy, a man bent on destroying her, and if Salem didn’t toughen up and quit making eyes at him, they’d both be out of a job.

      “Thanks, but I’d rather stand.”

      “Very well.” Salem sat down in her leather swivel chair and clasped her hands together. “I understand that you’re upset about Ms. Kelly’s Athletes Behaving Badly piece, but I stand behind the story and what was reported. All of our stories are vigorously researched, and we pride ourselves on double-checking every fact and every report.”

      “No one from your station contacted me or my team.”

      “I assure you, Mr. Morretti, my assistant phoned your publicist for a statement.”

      He crossed his arms. “I would like you to provide the name of the person who called and the time and date the call was placed.”

      Nodding, Salem picked up her pen and made a note on one of the open file folders on her desk. “That’s not a problem. I can forward the information to you later today.”

      Angela raised her eyebrows but didn’t speak. She stood at the back of the room, beside the door, and watched the exchange between Salem and Demetri with growing interest. Maybe her boss was going to come through for her after all. Salem’s eyes were glued to Demetri’s lips, but she sounded confident and looked in control.

      “There are two sides to every story, but your report only focused on one side. The side filled with lies. As a result, my character and integrity have been compromised.”

      What integrity? Angela thought, clamping her lips together to trap a curse inside. You’re a hothead who can’t control his temper! She thought back over every second of her argument with Demetri. And when she got to the point where her boss showed up, Angela decided that was the most humiliating moment of her life. She’d been reprimanded in front of her crew, then ordered into her boss’s office to speak to the enemy. Even more troubling, Salem was being nice to him. A little too nice. Her body was angled toward him, and she hadn’t stopped smiling since they entered the office. If Angela didn’t know better, she’d think Salem had a crush on Demetri, because the only time she’d ever seen her boss this happy was when she received her annual Christmas bonus.

      “If your assistant had contacted me, I would have been here.”

      “Really?” A quizzical look covered Salem’s face. “But it’s been widely reported in the media that you don’t do interviews.”

      “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

      Angela wanted to gag. Demetri was lying and making it look easy. He hadn’t done an on-camera interview in years, and according to reports, his publicist had to preapprove the questions. The baseball star was a recluse, a man who liked to be alone, who kept to himself. Except when he was getting into bar fights or humiliating waiters and service staff.

      Angela looked him over, slowly. Demetri Morretti was a man of great presence, with more natural charisma than an A-list actor. That was probably why people overlooked his bad behavior and made excuses for him. But Angela wasn’t one of his crazed fans or easily seduced by ridiculously rich athletes. She decided right then and there that she wasn’t going to let Demetri Morretti disrespect her again.

      “You seem like a very nice lady, Mrs. Velasquez,” Demetri began smoothly, favoring her with a smile that warmed his entire face, “and I don’t want to sue you, but if Ms. Kelly doesn’t apologize publicly for slandering my name, I will.”

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