Aimee Duffy - What’s a Girl to Do?

Book One in Indecent Proposals

Aimée Duffy

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright HarperImpulse an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 77–85 Fulham Palace Road Hammersmith, London W6 8JB www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013 Copyright © Aimée Duffy 2013 Cover Photographs © shutterstock.com Aimée Duffy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © August 2013 ISBN: 9780007540280 Version 2014-09-24 Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Dedication To Chelle, Amalie, Cat/Jo, Amy, Mel and the Dashing ladies. I really appreciate having you all, especially when I'm whining.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Aimée Duffy

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

Copyright © Aimée Duffy 2013

Cover Photographs © shutterstock.com

Aimée Duffy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © August 2013 ISBN: 9780007540280

Version 2014-09-24

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

To Chelle, Amalie, Cat/Jo, Amy, Mel and the Dashing ladies. I really appreciate having you all, especially when I'm whining.

Tonight’s a tequila night, screw the lime mixer.

Shey Lopez grinned at Georgia’s email to her and their other roommate, Eloisa. No doubt about it, the week had dragged and she was up for something stronger than their usual pitcher of frozen margaritas.

She hit reply to all and got typing.

I’m in.

Jude Graham chose that second to clear his throat at the door to her office. She fought back a scowl at her boss and hit CTRL & E without glancing at the screen. The high-maintenance bitch looked flustered, which was ironic since he’d barely lifted a finger all week. His whole me editor, you do what I tell you attitude got on her nerves. If Storm wasn’t the best fashion magazine in New York, she’d be out of there faster than Jude could buff his fingernails. And, going by the way that they shined, he was a pro.

‘What can I do for you, Jude?’ Surely he could tell the saccharine tone of her voice was false. Then again, being false was one of Jude’s many talents.

‘I need those proofs for the Gianni article by the end of the day.’

Shey’s smile slipped. He’d given her the paperwork less than an hour ago and it was already way past three. The guy was a nightmare, too busy wrapped up in another argument with his husband to care about his job. She couldn’t wait for the day she cranked up enough experience to leapfrog over his ass and be the editor, not the assistant.

‘There’s only two hours left and I have other work to do,’ she said, sounding calm, even though her heart rate increased with trepidation. Still, she was playing over all the insults she could think of in her mind.

He scowled, or tried to. The botox didn’t leave much room for changes in his expression. ‘There’s more than one smart-assed girl in this building who would kill for your position. If the article isn’t on my desk at five, you can kiss your job goodbye.’

With that and more flourish than a prom queen, he left. Shey was tempted to launch her stapler at the empty doorway, but resisted. Everything good in life came with a price, or so she told herself. Her dream job should have a downside, it was only the natural balance of things. That little bitch Jude was what she had to suffer to get to the top, and she would suffer him and do it with a smile.

Closing her eyes, she took a calming breath. And then another. Her yoga instructor would be proud.

With her head cleared, she got her focus back in the game. Jude would have his article on the desk by four forty-five. She could do this. And later, when her head was frazzled and her fingers ached, she’d go out with her girls and drink the well dry.

Opening a new email, she sent another message to Georgia and Eloisa.

The bitch is at it again. Make mine doubles.

After hitting send , she got to work.

***

With half an hour to spare, Shey was relieved her speedy fingers and dedication meant she’d get to see Jude’s jaw drop. Three read-throughs later and the article was as polished as she could make it, but she wasn’t kidding herself that it would be enough. Little bitch, or LB as most of the office staff called him, was pernickety and thorough. One mistake or missing word and he’d come down on her so hard that some would think she’d made an attempt on his husband’s life.

Tapping the pointed toes of her Prada stilettos, Shey waited for the article to print. When it was done she aligned the pages, stapled the top corner, and made a beeline for Jude’s office.

Storm was exactly what she had expected when she’d landed the internship over a year ago. All white plastic with brightly colored furniture and art. Bitches around every corner waiting to stab you in the back to get on their editor’s good sides. And the jackpot: free backstage passes to fashion shows, exclusive clubs, and parties. God, she loved it. She really did. But she suspected the cattiness was rubbing off on her. When she’d started the internship she’d been quiet, too scared to say boo to anyone. She learned quickly that if she didn’t stand up for herself and grow a backbone, she’d be crushed like a bug.