Seraphina finished reading her published article, smiling. “The Duke’s Brother.” It detailed the wedding proceedings, the new couple, and the awesome bride, Jo; but the focus was on Tripp. She loved the picture she had took of Trane and his brother. Trane looked more handsome than any man had a right to look. His hand gripped Tripp’s shoulder and he smiled such a look of support that she warmed every time she looked at it.

Her boss walked by, the editor of the Gatekeeper, her country’s main newspaper. He tapped his finger on her desk. “A great piece. Lots of emotion. We’re already getting positive feedback, more hits online, all of it. Well done.”

She smiled until her cheeks hurt. She was building her way up through the paper’s positions. She was still just a junior reporter who had her own cubby space. But, at least she wasn’t running coffee to the board room any more. Right now her assignment included coverage of the royals. She already had access to most of the royal events all over the world. They were a tight bunch, not always friendly, and definitely exclusive, so her inside scoop pleased her editor. As long as she didn’t betray her fellow royals, she was in a good spot. She twirled her pencil before placing it in her hair. But she was after a press association award, and she needed to step away from the fluff society pieces if she had any hope of landing it.

Thoughts of her work with the oceanic animals, especially the rays, whales, and dolphins shifted through her mind. The Valdez Family was wonderful to curb ocean dumping, to help preserve the environment. She wished other Mediterranean countries could be so like-minded. And then there were the yachts to consider. If tourists knew what those yachts dumped into the sea, just off their beaches, no one would swim in the sea. She was sure of it. They had to suspect though, when trash bags, feminine hygiene pads, old condoms, needles and more washed up on their shores.

She shook her head. But there was no human interest in a piece about ocean dumping. She snorted, no human interest besides self-preservation. But that’s not what changed lives. A human interest story that pulled at people’s emotions, that encouraged wide spread change, that would win her a Pulitzer. She knew the committee of deciders were partial to the environment but a human element must be involved. She wanted these accolades not just to receive an award, but because that was the kind of journalism she valued. She had begun this writing journey, chasing the job of reporter, because she wanted a voice and sought an audience of readers.

Trane’s picture showed up on her phone. It was from a dinner a year ago. He was looking at her like he would hold her forever if he could. She picked up her phone. “Hello.”

“Phina.”

“Hi.” She breathed out. She couldn’t help it. She became a puddle whenever he was involved.

“Hi.” The smile in his voice was so obvious she almost giggled like a tween. She and Trane were ridiculous. Their whole situation was ridiculous.

Her boss waved to call her into his office.

She held up a finger and mouthed, “Royal.”

He nodded and went inside to wait for her, she guessed.

“So, Trane, how are you?”

“I had a minute so I thought I’d call.”

She was shocked into silence. Finally she cleared her throat. “Just like that?”

He laughed, his smooth, deep tones shivered through her. “Yup, just like that. I’ve been watching Nico. He makes it work. He and Jo just carve out time. So now if I have a minute, it’s yours.” He paused. She was too stunned to speak. “So, how’s work? Do you have a minute?”

“I do. I just told my boss to hold on a minute. Ha. He’ll be fine. He thinks I get all the intel on royals for him so I can chat.”

“Do you?” His voice sounded wary.

“Do I what? Oh. Give intel? No. Just like what you saw in my article today.” She hoped he’d read it. She held her breath.

“I saw that! Well done. Great picture of Tripp.”

“And you. Thank you. That was a fun piece.”

They chatted for a couple minutes more and then she heard his phone ding five times in a row.

“Well you know what that means.”

“I do. Thanks for the talk, Trane.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll call you later?”

She felt her face heat. “Sure.”

When he disconnected, she sat still, letting herself calm down. She had to force herself to acknowledge that Trane didn’t have time for her, not really, but she could enjoy this effort he was making while it lasted.

She knocked on Mr. Calloway’s door. “You wanted to see me?”

He indicated the chair across from his desk. “I do. Come sit.”

Once she was settled, he eyed her over his folded hands. “I have a long term assignment.”

She sat forward. Something about his expression made her nervous. His eyes were calculating.

“This could bring big, international attention if it’s handled right.”

She pulled out a notepad and the pencil from her hair.

“I need you to follow the Valdez brothers, their efforts to stop ocean dumping and their yacht activity. Look for all discrepancies in their life that differ from these policies they are fighting for."

She swallowed. “So wait, am I like, a spy?”

He lowered his hands. “You are a reporter.”

She nodded. True. This was what reporters did. “But what are you expecting or hoping to find?”

He eyed her for a moment. “Let’s just say I have a hunch there’s a story there.”