Fire With Fire. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
was watching her closely, and Emma burst out rashly, ‘If you think Camilla will agree to have sex with you in return for you dropping the charges, you’re way, way off course …’
‘And so are you,’ he told her smoothly, ‘the payment I was thinking of wasn’t so much your sister’s body in my bed, as yours… in my magazine.’
For a moment Emma genuinely thought she might faint. She looked at him, grey eyes dazed and disbelieving, hot colour running up under her skin as she realised he was perfectly serious.
‘Me? But … but I’m not a model, I don’t …’ She shook her head trying to sort out her muddled thoughts.
‘Don’t what,’ he mocked her, ‘take your clothes off for financial gain? But of course you don’t Miss Court, that’s what will make the fact that you’re featuring in the magazine such a sales booster. I’ve been looking for something to up our ratings, and you could be just the thing.’
He was prowling round her now, studying her, stripping the clothes from her body with a careless masculine arrogance that made her long to smack him.
‘Yes, I can see the captions now. Cool newsreader Emma Court, as you’ve never seen her before … except perhaps in dreams. It should make an extremely good feature.’
‘You must be mad!’
He laughed mirthlessly, ‘How predictable of you, somehow I had expected better. No, I’m far from mad Emma Court.’
‘You knew who I was this morning, didn’t you?’ she demanded furiously, remembering the way he had looked at her then, probably already anticipating this very moment.
He was coolly amused. ‘My dear girl, I knew everything there was to know about you ten minutes after I’d read your letter.’
Emma thought furiously. ‘Did you arrange for me to get that job …? Did you?’
He smiled infuriatingly, ‘How quick you are Emma, I like that in a woman, it saves so much tedious time wasting. What does it matter? You’ve got it haven’t you?’
‘And now you plan to use me to …’
‘I’m offering you what you came here for,’ he told her curtly, ‘if the terms of payment are unacceptable to you, you can always refuse …’
‘And if I do, you’ll sue Camilla?’
He shrugged. ‘Do I look like a man who’d let someone rob me of several thousand pounds and do nothing about it? Half the secret of being successful Emma Court is comprised of luck—pure and simple. I consider myself to be more lucky than most. The very day your letter arrived, I was trying to think of ways to boost the magazine’s circulation, bringing it a little more upmarket. I don’t know if you are aware of it, but a rival of mine has challenged me to beat his circulation figures.’
‘Yes, I am aware of it.’ Her response was terse. ‘But I can’t see how nude photographs of me …’
‘Of you, Emma Court, no,’ he agreed, interrupting swiftly, ‘but of you Emma Court, the new anchorwoman of “Newsview“, yes. On screen you project a very cool, remote image, Emma. I know, I’ve made it my business to watch you. A lot of men find that very … challenging. The fact that we are able to show them a different Emma …’
‘No!’ The denial burst past her lips before she could stop it, her eyes wide and haunted as she faced him. ‘I’d never agree to anything like that,’ she told him fiercely.
‘No?’ He picked up his telephone receiver. ‘Very well then, I’ll instruct my solicitors to continue with the charges against your sister and to ensure that they get as much media coverage as possible …’
She knew he wasn’t bluffing. He had the power to do exactly what he was threatening. She could just imagine Mrs T’s face when she read what Camilla had done, and no doubt the press would have a field day making it sound even worse than it was. She was sorely tempted to go home and tell Camilla that she had been unsuccessful, but the thought of her sister’s hysterics; the knowledge that it could well mean the end of her engagement—because Mrs T. would put unholy pressure on David to break the engagement, she knew—overwhelmed her.
Forcing herself to think calmly and quickly, and to detach herself from what was happening she viewed her options, and could only come up with one solution. Damn Drake Harwood and damn Camilla. She would have to agree, she decided bitterly. She had no real choice. Let him take his photographs, but he’d never be able to use them in the way he’d planned.
Bitter anger tensed her muscles as she envisaged having to explain to Robert why she could not take the job … but he would understand. They wouldn’t want her on local television either … not once Drake Harwood had splashed her photograph all over his magazine. So what, she told herself hardily, she would be able to find another job in some other field where her public image wasn’t so important and at least she would have the satisfaction of defeating Drake Harwood. As he had said himself, photographs of her, as herself would have little appeal. As Emma Court she was no one and even though her mind and body screamed objections to what she would have to do she must ignore them.
‘Well?’
She faced him coolly, ‘I agree. but first I must have a document signed by you, clearing Camilla from any charges you might make against her.’
‘You shall have it. I do admire a woman of keen perception Emma Court. Somehow I thought you and I would be able to reach a mutually acceptable agreement.’
He was taunting her, Emma was sure of it, but she wasn’t going to respond.
‘How long will it take to get the document prepared and signed,’ she asked him coolly. She must know how much time she had. She daredn’t say that she wasn’t taking the job until she had that paper in her hand.
He was watching her face. ‘It will be given to you immediately after the photographic session.’
‘Do I have your word on that?’ Her eyes were hard, and she noted the dull flush colouring his cheek bones.
‘You have it,’ he told her crisply. ‘Now let’s get down to the arrangements shall we?’
He obviously didn’t believe in wasting any time Emma thought hollowly half an hour later as she left his office. Tomorrow she had to present herself at a studio whose address he had given her, and he had promised that she would also receive the documents releasing Camilla while she was there.
She went back to her hotel and booked in for another night. Then she telephoned home and told her father she had been delayed. ‘Camilla wants to speak to you,’ he told her.
Camilla sounded tense. ‘Did you see him?’ she demanded.
‘Yes, and he’s agreed to drop all the charges.’ There wasn’t much point in telling her sister the price she was having to pay for her freedom. There was nothing martyred or self-sacrificing in her decision; it was simply the only one she could make. She had grown so used to protecting Camilla that it was almost second nature.
She put off telephoning Robert, her interview with him was best left until she got home. Thank goodness she hadn’t actually signed a new contract. The television company would be more than pleased to let her go when they knew why she was leaving. Once her photograph had appeared in Drake Harwood’s obnoxious publication no serious television station would want to touch her with a bargepole. Bitterness welled up inside her, but she fought it down; at least she would have the satisfaction of defeating his main purpose and that, she sensed, was something very few people ever did. He had been quite cold and callous about his reasons for what he was doing; her thoughts and feelings meant nothing to him and neither did the fact that he was destroying her career. She had sensed beneath the mockery a fine contempt of the female sex, and she shuddered inwardly, trying not to think about the ordeal to come.
That evening after she had had her bath she forced herself to study her nude reflection