Комбат. Смертельная битва. Андрей Воронин

us.”

      “Oh, of course,” Angela lied, nodding her head. “I was just going to...to...to...”

      “Whatever it is can wait. Get in my office. Now.”

      I’d rather ride a unicycle naked down the Magnificent Mile, she thought, dragging herself across the studio and past her gawking coworkers.

      * * *

      “Please, Mr. Morretti, have a seat,” Salem said, gesturing to one of the padded chairs in front of her large oak desk. “Make yourself comfortable.”

      The small, cramped office was overrun with bookshelves, knickknacks, and the scent of cinnamon was so heavy in the air, Angela’s stomach grumbled. It had been hours since she had breakfast, but the thought of eating made her feel queasy. So did the way her boss was smiling at Demetri Morretti. He was the enemy, a man bent on destroying her, and if Salem didn’t toughen up and quit making eyes at him, they’d both be out of a job.

      “Thanks, but I’d rather stand.”

      “Very well.” Salem sat down in her leather swivel chair and clasped her hands together. “I understand that you’re upset about Ms. Kelly’s Athletes Behaving Badly piece, but I stand behind the story and what was reported. All of our stories are vigorously researched, and we pride ourselves on double-checking every fact and every report.”

      “No one from your station contacted me or my team.”

      “I assure you, Mr. Morretti, my assistant phoned your publicist for a statement.”

      He crossed his arms. “I would like you to provide the name of the person who called and the time and date the call was placed.”

      Nodding, Salem picked up her pen and made a note on one of the open file folders on her desk. “That’s not a problem. I can forward the information to you later today.”

      Angela raised her eyebrows but didn’t speak. She stood at the back of the room, beside the door, and watched the exchange between Salem and Demetri with growing interest. Maybe her boss was going to come through for her after all. Salem’s eyes were glued to Demetri’s lips, but she sounded confident and looked in control.

      “There are two sides to every story, but your report only focused on one side. The side filled with lies. As a result, my character and integrity have been compromised.”

      What integrity? Angela thought, clamping her lips together to trap a curse inside. You’re a hothead who can’t control his temper! She thought back over every second of her argument with Demetri. And when she got to the point where her boss showed up, Angela decided that was the most humiliating moment of her life. She’d been reprimanded in front of her crew, then ordered into her boss’s office to speak to the enemy. Even more troubling, Salem was being nice to him. A little too nice. Her body was angled toward him, and she hadn’t stopped smiling since they entered the office. If Angela didn’t know better, she’d think Salem had a crush on Demetri, because the only time she’d ever seen her boss this happy was when she received her annual Christmas bonus.

      “If your assistant had contacted me, I would have been here.”

      “Really?” A quizzical look covered Salem’s face. “But it’s been widely reported in the media that you don’t do interviews.”

      “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

      Angela wanted to gag. Demetri was lying and making it look easy. He hadn’t done an on-camera interview in years, and according to reports, his publicist had to preapprove the questions. The baseball star was a recluse, a man who liked to be alone, who kept to himself. Except when he was getting into bar fights or humiliating waiters and service staff.

      Angela looked him over, slowly. Demetri Morretti was a man of great presence, with more natural charisma than an A-list actor. That was probably why people overlooked his bad behavior and made excuses for him. But Angela wasn’t one of his crazed fans or easily seduced by ridiculously rich athletes. She decided right then and there that she wasn’t going to let Demetri Morretti disrespect her again.

      “You seem like a very nice lady, Mrs. Velasquez,” Demetri began smoothly, favoring her with a smile that warmed his entire face, “and I don’t want to sue you, but if Ms. Kelly doesn’t apologize publicly for slandering my name, I will.”

      Silence filled the air and stretched on for several long minutes.

      “I have an idea.” Salem’s voice was filled with excitement and she practically bounced up and down on her chair. “Why don’t you come on Eye on Chicago and do an exclusive sit-down interview with Ms. Kelly this month?”

      No, no, no! Angela wanted to scream out in protest, but shot evil daggers at Demetri instead. He was bad news, someone she had to stay far, far away from. He was a rich, cocksure athlete who thought he could push her around, and she had absolutely no desire to have him on her show. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not ever.

      “No, thank you. I’m not interested.”

      “What if we gave you the questions beforehand? You and your team could even add a few of your own. We never do that, but I’m willing to make an exception for you, Mr. Morretti.”

      “No way!” Angela hollered, the words bursting out of her mouth. “He shouldn’t get preferential treatment just because he’s a—”

      Salem’s eyes thinned. In an instant, Angela’s jaw locked and her tongue seized up.

      “I don’t trust reporters.” Demetri cast a glance at the back of the room. “Not even the ones who look sweet and innocent. They’re the worst kind.”

      Angela ignored the dig. Sticks and stones, Morretti. Sticks and stones. There was nothing the surly baseball player could say to hurt her. Life was good. Great. For the first time ever, her show was on top of the ratings, and next weekend she was covering the grand opening of Dolce Vita.

      The posh three-story lounge was the first of its kind in Chicago, and Angela had been looking forward to the event for weeks. Because of her busy schedule, Angela hadn’t hung out with her girlfriends in weeks. And since they would be in attendance at the star-studded launch, she was excited about catching up with them and eating some award-winning Italian food.

      “If you’ll both excuse me,” Angela said, gripping the door handle. “I really have to go.”

      Salem shook her head, and Angela dropped the door handle as if it were a roasted stone. Her boss spoke to Demetri in a soft, soothing voice, but her eyes were glued to Angela. “I want to hear your side of the story, and I bet America does, too.”

      “I know I don’t,” Angela grumbled. Her colleagues would probably jump at the chance to interview Demetri Morretti but the thought of interviewing him, under the bright studio lights, made Angela feel queasy. The camera captured everything—every pause, every nervous glance, every awkward movement—and she feared her nerves would get the best of her and she’d drown on live TV. Add to that the fact that she had to worry about keeping Demetri and his ego in check. Angela didn’t like him, didn’t trust him and had a feeling he was up to no good. He’d embarrassed her once in front of her crew, and there was no doubt in her mind he’d do it again. What if he outsmarts me on my show? she thought, swallowing hard. What if he makes me look like a fool on national television?

      “This would be your opportunity to finally set the record straight,” Salem continued. “And imagine what the press could do for you, your team and your charity foundation. It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved, and...”

      Angela tuned her boss out. Catching sight of her reflection in the wall mirror, she straightened her shoulders and cleaned the scowl off her face. There was nothing she could do about the hatred in her heart, though. Angela was fuming, her pulse pounding violently in her ears.

      Her gaze bounced around the room and landed on Demetri. It was easy to see why fans disliked him. Charming one minute, acerbic the next. Former coaches, rivals and the media criticized him for