Everyone nodded solemnly. Elijah raised his hand to ask something. Célian fell into his chair with a sigh. “Is it about the deal?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t wanna hear it. Let’s get to business.”

James Townley looked up from a newspaper he was holding. “Anything else you’d like to address?”

Célian shot him a look. “Are you referring to your fake tan problem? Because I can hold an intervention, but probably not until next week. Busy schedule and all.”

“I’m talking about the elephant in the room.” James frowned, concern etching his face. He slapped the newspaper with the back of his hand before boomeranging it toward his director. Célian picked it up, frowned at the little article circled with a yellow highlighter, and slid it my way silently. I picked it up, my heart pounding in my ears. There was no picture. Just text.

WHO’S THAT GIRL: New York media tycoon Célian Laurent is DUMPED by his fiancée, Miss Lily Davis, after the latter caught him in the act, cheating on her with an employee. The sordid affair is said to be at least a few weeks old. Both parties were unavailable for comment.

Célian sat back, lacing his fingers together. “Well.”

Elijah’s eyebrows jumped to his forehead. “You’ll need to elaborate.”

“It’s true.”

No, it’s not! I wanted to jump up and yell, as gasps erupted all across the room. He hadn’t cheated on Lily, and she hadn’t caught us in the act. I stared at him, bewildered, feeling my pulse jackhammering against my eyelids. He tilted his chin up, his expression reeking defiance, ignoring me completely.

“Most of it, anyway. I am in a relationship with Judith Humphry. However, it is not sordid, hardly a secret, and we were never caught in any act. Judith didn’t know about my relationship with Lily when we started dating, and is therefore not at fault. However, her position here has nothing to do with our relationship, which developed after she was appointed as a reporter.” He was calm, cold, and smooth. Everybody’s eyes ping-ponged between us, and my skin was on fire. I felt humiliated and helpless. And most of all, I felt furious at his random confession. When we’d agreed to tell the world, I thought it would be after discussing a strategy. Together.

“I think we can all agree that Miss Humphry has earned her place in this newsroom and did not need to sleep her way up the corporate ladder.” Célian smoothed a hand along his crisp shirt.

“Agreed.” Kate reached out, squeezing my hand. I was too stunned to react.

“I concur.” Elijah raised his palms in surrender.

“She’s the best.” Jessica regarded me with a frown, probably for keeping mum about getting freaky with the boss.

I got why a lot of people felt cheated.

“Junior.” James tossed me a toothy smile. “You’re the real deal. We all know it.”

But did they? There were at least eight more people in the room, and their silence spoke a thousand words. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one saw me in the same light anymore. To what degree was the real question.

“Thank you…” I managed, refusing to look back at Célian, who stared at me intently now, trying to read between the lines of my deep frown.

I didn’t give him anything.

“With this out of the way…” Célian ran a hand over his square jaw. “Give me something good.”

“Evidently, Jude already has…” someone coughed from my general direction, but I couldn’t snap my head fast enough to see who it was.

I don’t think Célian heard it. He wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to berate a cheeky employee.

Kate began talking about the anti-drugs campaign failure, and Elijah butted in with a debt ceiling lead. Célian looked bored out of his mind, leaning back in his chair and staring into the air, his legs crossed over the desk.

“Humphry?”

At least he still called me that, like I was a genderless employee, like nothing had changed. Because nothing had. I was still a career woman. I was just a career woman who slept with her boss because we were both the same type of screwed up.

I flipped Kipling’s pages, my tongue sticking out of the corner of my mouth.

“I was talking to this guy last night…” I started.

“Does Célian know? He always seemed like the possessive type to me,” Elijah joked, tossing his head back and gulping down a bottle of water with a chuckle.

“Out of my newsroom, Elijah,” Célian barked, looking back to me. “Continue, Judith.”

I looked between them noiselessly. Elijah furrowed his brows, picked up his things, and shook his head.

“It was a joke,” he whispered.

“Comedy Central is down the block. We make news here.” Célian was still looking at me, but with a jaded expectation, not an ounce of sympathy or affection in his icy blues.

An unbearable tension squeezed the room from the moment Elijah realized he’d messed up to the second the door closed behind him.

“Anyway…” My face heated, and I kept my eyes on Kipling. “He’s a Syrian journalist living in Germany. His name is Saiid. I found his Twitter account late last night.”

“Or Tinder…” Bryce, one of the producers in the room, whispered under her breath.