Love and Liability (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 2) by Katie Oliver Read Free Book Online Page B

“The feature on Trevor Wilde was our biggest-selling issue.”
    Violet, a middle-aged woman who wrote the magazine’s monthly agony aunt column, leaned in next to Holly and whispered, “Excuse me, dear…but who’s Trevor Wilde?”
    “He’s a footie player,” Holly whispered back. “Really hot, married for about ten minutes to that pop singer, Keeley—”
    “Ms James.” Sasha turned and focused her gaze on Holly. “Would you care to share your conversation with the rest of us?”
    “Oh. Sorry,” Holly said quickly. “I was just explaining to Violet who Trevor Wilde is.”
    “Violet should
know
who Trevor is.” Sasha glared at the older woman. “It’s her job to know these things.”
    “But I offer advice,” Violet said, “not celebrity gossip.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” Sasha shot back. “I expect every one of you to keep up with the latest news, fashion, and celebrity doings. Is that clear?”
    Violet reddened. “Yes.”
    “Excellent.” Sasha returned her attention to the staff seated on both sides of the conference table. “Does anyone have any suggestions for suitable articles?”
    “I do,” Holly offered, and raised her hand.
    A deep sigh escaped Sasha’s lips. “Yes, Holly, let’s hear it. I know I speak for everyone when I say we can hardly wait.”
    “Well,” Holly said, ignoring the collective titters around the table, “lately I’ve noticed a homeless girl sleeping on the bench outside our offices.”
    “Oh, yes!” Zara, the accessories editor, chimed in. “I’ve seen her, too. Isn’t there somewhere else she could go? After all, emergency accommodation is available.”
    Holly looked at her. “That’s true. But I’ve done some research, and the night shelters are crowded, plus there aren’t nearly enough to go around. And with budgeting cuts—”
    “Oh, you read something besides
Heat
?” Mark, staff illustrator and the king of snark, asked her. “Fancy that.”
    Holly ignored him and returned her attention to Sasha. “I’d like to talk to her, maybe write a feature on homeless teens in central London. I thought I might shadow her for a couple of days, see what it’s like to sleep on the street and eat out of rubbish bins—”
    “Ugh! That’s disgusting,” Padma, the assistant beauty editor, said with a shudder. “No teenage girl wants to read about something like that.”
    “I don’t agree,” Holly retorted. “Why shouldn’t the story of a girl living on the streets of London be as compelling to read as — as Rihanna’s latest hair colour?”
    “You’re missing the point, Holly,” Padma informed her. “We’re a teen entertainment magazine, not
The Guardian
.”
    “I think it’s a fabulous idea, Holly,” Sasha pronounced. “It’s got edge. Let’s go with it.”
    “Er…thanks.” Holly blinked. Although Sasha glared at her like a cat who’d just swallowed a hairball, at least she’d given her approval. Holly had expected a full-on battle with Sasha, not this bloodless capitulation.
    “Does anyone else have anything to add?” Sasha asked.
    She scanned the faces around the table, but no further suggestions were forthcoming. “Good. Holly’s pitch fits in nicely with the arbitration panel’s demand for more responsible content.” She smiled tightly and added, “Well done, Holly.”
    When Holly finally escaped the building, it was just after two o’clock and the bowl of cereal she’d had for breakfast was a distant memory. After volunteering to help one of the interns unpack several trunks from a recent accessories shoot, she’d missed lunch, and now she was ravenous.
    She glanced across the street. The homeless girl was slouched on her bench. Holly waved and made her way to the Starbucks next door, where she joined the queue and ordered two coffees with extra cream and sugar on the side and a muffin, studded with currants and dusted liberally with sugar.
    Juggling the cardboard tray of coffees and the bagged muffin, Holly crossed