YOU REALLY GOT A HOLD ON ME

Chapter eleven

chapter.eleven

MODE Editor-in-Chief's office

"Daniel, concentrate please." Wilhelmina Slater uncrossed her legs and leaned forward a fraction, staring at the bumbling idiot in front of her. "We should decide on the cover right now."

Daniel Meade was now flipping through the proofs, looking at them far too carefully. Wilhelmina could barely concealed her impatience. The fool only got his job as Editor-in-Chief of MODE because of his name. A job that should rightly be hers. It irritated her to no end that she, the great Wilhelmina Slater, still have to get this idiot's approval. She had far more experience under her belt that this stupid boy.

He was saying something. What was he saying? All Wilhelmina could hear was garbage come out of his mouth.

"Daniel, let's go with the Charlize Theron cover." Wilhelmina said. She shut the book in front of her and got ready to stand up. As far as she was concerned, the decision was made and the meeting was over.

"No, wait a second," that insolent pup was saying. "That is a good cover but I think we should go with Julienne Moore. She's tipped to win the Oscars."

She was halfway up and Wilhelmina Slater rose to her full height, 5 ft 12 in heels and leaned over the desk. "You do not know what you are talking about." she spat out, looking down at him.

Daniel Meade looked up. "Willy," he said, uncowed by her aggressive stance. "As Editor-in-Chief, I decide we'll go with Julienne Moore. She's hot right now. Betty pulled the stops with that photo shoot and it looks great."

Wilhelmina took a deep breath. She hated when anyone called her Willy.

"Whatever you say, Editor-in-Chief." she finally answered. Sarcasm was dripping from her tone. "It's on your head. If circulation is down this month, you've got to answer to George Harris Senior."

Daniel scoffed a little. "George likes us. MODE is his flagship."

How can he be so stupid?

"Do you really think so, Daniel?" Wilhelmina's lips curled into a supercilious smile. "Have you look at the numbers lately? MODE and RUNWAY are both burning money. There is talk that George has to make a cut somewhere."

Daniel Meade was leaning back in his chair, smiling. "I'm not worried."

"You should be." Wilhelmina replied. "That bitch, Cassandra is brewing something. And I bet it has to do with making her uncle happy. If it comes to the line, that wrinkly old goat will go with RUNWAY."

Wilhelmina watched with satisfaction as Daniel Meade's smile slipped and his face turned pale. She didn't wait for an answer. She just spun on her heels and walked out of his office, heading straight for hers. The rest of the office hearing her heels stayed out of the way, not making eye contact. Marc St. James was waiting by the door as she stalked into her office, quickly handed her a cold drink and took the book from her hands. Wilhelmina gulped down the cold San Pelligrino in two swallows before handing the glass back to her PA. The door had been discreetly closed.

"Daniel is an idiot!" she ranted, falling into her seat.

Marc came over and gave her a quick shoulder massage. "Now, now. Wilhelmina. Happy thoughts."

"He's too busy fucking his staff to even know what's happening," she continued, still too angry to relax.

"Give him enough rope to hang himself, dear," Marc murmured, trying to calm her down.

Wilhelmina shrugged off Marc's hands. That Daniel Meade may be an idiot but she was not. He could roast in hell for all she cared but Wilhelmina Slater will survive and come up roses. She would not let that fool drag her down.