Page 1 of Revenge

Chapter 1

It was strange. Here I was, sitting in the open plan office of the Saturday Correspondent, working the exact job I’d been desperate to do, yet all I could think about was Mercia Academy. A group of young secretaries stood by the windows, laughing at some joke, and my insides cringed. I dipped my head, breathing hard to remind myself that people at the Correspondent didn’t scheme against colleagues.

If I wasn’t so antsy, I might have enjoyed the atmosphere. My desk was sandwiched between two enthusiastic, young journalists who were always willing to share war stories about working for a newspaper. Opposite was a gossip columnist who told the most scandalous stories, and on the other side was a girl five years older, who had graduated with a degree in journalism.

A red-haired intern wearing tinsel around her neck brought back coffees from her Starbucks run and placed a latte on my desk. I handed her my cash and checked the messages on my smartphone. Rudolph hadn’t called or texted or emailed in two weeks to update me on his negotiations for my re-entry into the academy. I was beginning to think he’d forgotten about me.

On the far left, Jackie’s door opened. She was our Editor-In-Chief. The older woman’s bleached blonde hair flopped over her face as she peered out into the open-plan office. “Emilia? A word.”

I pulled myself out of my seat, nearly knocking down an over-decorated Christmas tree. After steadying it on its stand, I circled the nest of desks and walked to the editor’s office. Jackie was a petite woman with a heavily lined face who dressed in skinny jeans and tank tops.

It was hard to tell her age, as she smoked cigarillos that rasped her voice and puckered her lips. Since she’d taken me in as an intern, I’d stuck by her side, attending interviews, press conferences, and meetings. It had been a crash course in journalism.

She perched herself on the edge of her desk, palms spread on its surface. “What do you know about classical music?”

“Not much… Why?”

“Sergei Bachmann, the son of the late Vasily Bachmann, is making his debut in London. I want you to learn everything you can about his father’s death and uncover why Sergei was unknown in the music circuit until now.”

I nodded, my gaze traveling down to her desk. It landed on two tickets to the Royal Academy Charity Ball. The one Edward had invited me to attend as the triumvirate’s date. A lump formed in my throat, and my shoulders drooped. The day I’d agreed to date all three of them marked the start of my downfall. If I had refused, the boys might have backed off. Instead, they tangled me further into their web, and my feelings for Henry now extended to Edward and Blake.

A sigh slid from my lips. How I yearned to rip their guts out and make them feel the gut-wrenching agony of such a horrific betrayal.

“Emilia?”

My gaze snapped up to Jackie. “Sorry… Yes… I’ll read up on Bachmann.”

The corner of her lips quirked into a smile. “What’s wrong? Enthusiasm for journalism waning?”

“No.” I shook my head, my gaze falling back onto the tickets. “But Rudolph said he’d have news by now, and—”

She held up a hand. “We’re getting you back into Mercia Academy.” She nodded to the desk outside the door, where a strawberry-blond haired man cross-referenced data from two screens. “Charlie is linking all the students you named to aristocratic families, government departments, and big business. “It’s just going to take a little more time.”

I dipped my head. “Right.”

“Hey,” she said.

My head snapped up.

“Enjoy your time here, because when you return to Mercia, it will be a hard slog.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Rudolph’s making us do things differently around here.” She pushed herself off the desk and strode across the room, bringing with her the scent of stale tobacco. “You’ll have to record friends and classmates and send the files back to us, so we can put together stories based on insider information. Are you alright with that?”

I straightened. The triumvirate had framed me for kidnapping, and I thirsted for revenge. “That’s fine with me.”

“These methods aren’t above board or even legal.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Are you sure?”

My jaws clenched. Was she asking if I was having second thoughts? I gave her a sharp nod. “If that’s what I have to do to take these guys down, I’ll do it.”

Jackie made a rasping chuckle and gave me a pat on the arm. “Good! In the meantime, you can learn the ropes of the profession. It’s not all about undercover work.”

I pulled my gaze away from the tickets. Even if I wanted to confront the boys about framing me for kidnapping Henry, it would mean standing outside the Royal Academy building in the freezing cold, waiting for them to arrive. And it probably might jeopardize our plan for me to get the dirt on their families to publish in the Saturday Correspondent.

Giving Jackie what I hoped was an enthusiastic smile, I chirped, “I’ll get right on researching Bachmann!”

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