Page 47 of King of Hearts

Entering the office, I opened my text thread with Marlee, disappointed she still hadn’t replied to my messages from yesterday. I was stumped, as my last text was a graphic premonition of what I hoped Andy was going to do to me. Yet there was no haughty reply, gif or even a simple reaction.

I sent another which included a threat that her having had her brains shagged to the brink of insanity was the only acceptable excuse for not replying – before I pocketed my phone just as the lift opened to a red-faced Darren, pacing a path near my desk.

“I’m so sorry,” I hastily pre-empted.

He didn’t respond, instead gesturing to his office with his head before walking ahead. I inwardly groaned, not at all ready for the spray he was about to give me for being late. Especially when I hadn’t even had time for caffeine.

“Close the door.” He said, his voice clipped.

Standing in front of him, he turned his computer monitor to face me and I gasped at the image filling the screen. It was still dark, the lights bright along the street and Andy was leaning into me against Sergio’s car, his mouth on mine. My hand instinctively lifted to my lips as I remembered the feel of him and the angst at possibly being caught. The evidence not as exciting now it was here in colour. With the lack of lighting and the significant distance between us and the paparazzo, it was obviously strategic on the photographer’s behalf and my only saving grace, as it was near impossible to determine that the woman was me and I sighed.

“You appear relieved.” He said, his face impassive as he scrolled up to the headline, reading it aloud. “Captain’s Kiss - Hearts’ Star Spied inSecond Sizzling Rendezvous with his Surreptitious Lady. Clever use of sibilance, wouldn’t you say, Arnabelle? Almost symbolic of the whispers which come with secrecy.”

“Yes, the title is quite catchy.” I concurred with chagrin.

I wasn’t sure if he knew it was me or he was making an educated guess until he scrolled further and in all its glory was my face, a step behind Andy as we exited his building. His hand firmly grasped my own and I was smiling, clearly pleased with myself. If I recall correctly, his look of mock horror was because I had just told him I was ready to go again if he didn’t mind Sergo potentially seeing us in the car.

“Shit.” I whispered, leaning over the desk for a clearer look as Darren continued to scroll, displaying another image. This one of Andy and I deep into the kiss. My hands gripped his shirt, nothing casual about the way I clung to him or the way he caged himself around me.

“Shit, indeed, Arna. What the actual –” He censored himself, instead running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “You can’t deny that it’s you. That image is clear as fucking day.”

Apparently, he was beyond restraint now. “It’s only a matter of time before someone publishes your name and your place of work.” He snapped.

“So, let’s get on the front foot.” I rushed, the suggestion leaving my mouth before I was able to think it through.

“Go on.” His eyebrows were scrunched, and I stared at the deep crevices which were still apparent even when he wasn’t scowling. I frantically searched my mind for an answer to placate him.

“My article on Andy is nearly complete. Maybe we should share something earlier, given the minute it drops with my name attached, it will blow up across the country.” I despised what I was uttering, wanting nothing to do with the notoriety that would follow being affiliated with someone high profile. But first, I needed to speak to Andy because there was no chance I was going to be lumped in with others who wanted him only for his name.

“Interesting idea. Bring me something by the end of the day and I might let you keep your job.”

We both knew he had no grounds to fire me but I waited until I turned around before rolling my eyes at his pathetic attempt at intimidation.

“I won’t publish anything before I speak to Andy.” I added.

“How romantic.” I heard him mumble and I skipped away before he had the chance to add anything further.

Turning my computer on I opened my inbox and headed straight for the last email from Andy. With no time for salutations, I got to the point and hit send, following it up with a text and a call which went straight to his message bank. He would reply as soon as he could and then I would go with whatever it was he wanted. The photos would be a media shit storm for him and he was likely managing this on a level I couldn’t even fathom, however, given how clearly identifiable my face was, I also needed to take some action. Dad and Queeny would no doubt be flooding my phone before the end of day, and I was surprised Marlee hadn’t already called with aplease explain.

Thankfully, there was plenty to keep me busy as I waited for Andy’s response, in addition to finalising the feature. Prioritising the smaller tasks to chase some sense of accomplishment, I got to work.

Proofing, editing and sending polished pieces through to those who were next in line to approve was a monotonous task. However, I was able to switch off and find peace because this was where I was most comfortable – with myself and the words. A space where I could play with language, challenge myself with new terms and more often than not, finish the day with these new additions in my word bank. Today I addedjentacular– a synonym for breakfast - and ironically,cattywampus- something which is in disarray. Both were now written on my desk, ready to be used on some unsuspecting soul as I did my best to permanently insert them into my vocabulary.

I loved the art of the written word and the immense power it held. What I didn’t like was when people misused their platform to sprout garbage, or when those in journalism lacked basic skills in punctuation and grammar. Which, I noted, was exactly what the author of the current article struggled with as I corrected their basic syntax. Always more infuriating when the content was interesting, yet I fought to grasp anything due to the sheer verbosity of the paragraphs. But it was enough to distract my mind for small bursts and pretend people I didn’t, and would never know, were not currently dissecting photos of me.

The vibration of my phone against the desk alerted me to Andy’s incoming call hours after I first reached out. It was nearly time to finish for the day and I was ashamed to admit that there was a small element of self-doubt that it had taken him this long to return my call.

“Hi.” I breathed into the phone quietly. The office was nearly empty, most of my colleagues long gone, yet I didn’t want to risk any lingering eavesdroppers.

“Hey.” He responded tersely and I shot upright in my seat, the sharp reply startling me.

“Everything okay? I was starting to think you were ignoring me.” I wanted to apologise for the images he had no doubt seen, but I wasn’t exactly sure what I would be saying sorry for.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a big day and I didn’t have my phone on me.” He huffed.

“The photos, huh?”

“Yep.” He audibly exhaled and I vacillated between apologising and hanging up, turning my phone off and ignoring everything.

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