number one breakfast chat show, Morning Grace, sitting in the makeup chair, getting her hair done. The woman was forty, only seven years older than Kat, but she had that polished, shiny look of someone who’d not only spent enormous amounts of time and money on her appearance, but was convinced it was the most important thing in her life. Her blond hair was curled into an artful tousle, her fake-tanned skin smooth, her body gym-honed. Yet for all her high-maintenance appearance, she had an addictive personality that attracted people by the bucket load. Which was probably why Marco kept coming back.
Kat glanced at her phone and nodded, unwilling to explain further. “No, just…a guy.”
“Really?” Grace’s wide eyes met hers in the mirror. “A real-life guy? Oh, my God, where’s my phone? I want to take a picture of this moment.”
Despite her mood, Kat smiled. “You make me sound like a nun.”
“I was beginning to think you were, hon.” She winced as the makeup girl pulled a lock of hair through the curler. “This is exciting—makes a change from all the Cyclone Rory news. Can I put it in the show?”
Kat snorted a laugh. “You know you can’t, so stop asking. I’m not newsworthy.”
“Are so.” Grace waved the girl away and ripped the makeup cape from her shoulders. “You’re a celebrity, and celebrities are always news.”
“Please, don’t remind me. I hate those people who’re famous for just being famous.”
“Sorry, hon, but your little scandals have fueled the gossip columns for ages. It only takes another to set it off again.” She straightened her dress then walked to the door, Kat following.
Kat sighed. It was true. She was nothing particularly special: the daughter of a merchant investment banker and an events planner, a private school student. The gap year she’d spent between high school graduation and university had been twelve months of partying, but just as she was about to begin her journalism degree at Brisbane Uni, she’d been offered a job as society reporter for The Tribune instead. Then, she’d gone spectacularly off the rails a year later, after her mother’s death.
“You never did set the record straight about everything, you know,” Grace said over her shoulder as they continued down the corridor. “It’d make a fabulous feature.” She swept her hands out, indicating a huge headline. “Former It Girl Katerina Jackson finally spills the dirt on her marriages, the seedy side of French football and those scandalous photos.”
“Never going to happen, Grace.”
“We could start at the beginning, make it a full show. We’d do background, talk about your childhood, your upbringing. How you beat up Marco when you were fourteen—”
“It was a shove, not a hit—”
“—and how you all ended up on detention like some modern-day Breakfast Club scenario—”
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Grace laughed. “I’m not going to say anything, hon, unless you want me to. But I do find it fascinating that your closest friends are a soccer superstar, a billionaire merchant banker and the nephew of a rumored mobster. All hot alpha men. All completely different. And all newsworthy.”
Marco, Connor and Luke. Her best friends since high school, since that awkwardly hilarious lunchtime detention had played out like some eighties teenage movie and they’d bonded over their hatred of school and their shared tastes in movies, music and computer games.
“What were you all there for again?” Grace casually asked as they walked to the studio.
“You know full well what.”
“You’d decked Marco—”
“A shove, Grace. For showing off in front of his mates and getting all up in my face.”
“Why? What did he say?”
“Honestly, I can’t even remember.” Yeah, she did —a stupid teenage comment about her lack of “womanly attributes” that, to Marco’s credit, he’d apologized for later.
“Whatever. Luke had been caught defacing the toilets and… What was Connor’s crime?”
“Correcting the economics teacher then threatening to bankrupt him.”
“Wow, harsh.”
“That was Southbank Private for you.” She shrugged. “All the girls were too intimidated to talk to Luke and Connor. I wasn’t. And from there we clicked. It just so happens they’re guys.”
“And you’ve never thought about…?” Grace waggled her eyebrows. “You know.”
“What? No!”
“Not even with Marco?”
Kat threw her an exaggerated eye roll to cover up the warmth in her face. “No, Grace, I haven’t,” she replied as they walked onto the set. “And I have no intention of giving anyone an exclusive. I’m your research assistant now, that’s it.” Grace approached a raised yellow couch and coffee table surrounded by a cluster of cameras. The lights streamed down as the set director came over to go through the lineup. “The other stuff is old news. People don’t want to hear about it.”
“They do. But I’ll just keep trying,” Grace replied with a smile, taking the glass of water the runner offered.
“Of course you will.” Kat accepted her usual green tea from the set assistant as Grace sat on the sofa and began to rearrange the strategically placed props on the table.
“Soooo…have you heard from Marco?” Grace asked casually.
“Not yet, no,” Kat lied, fiddling with her phone. “He was commentating the Coupe de France, and that was only three days ago.”
“I heard he’s supposed to be back today.” She smoothed her dress down over her artfully crossed legs. “I’m arranging a surprise dinner for later in the week.”
“Really?” Kat paused, her insides suddenly tight, and she took a sip of tea to cover up the weird feeling. “Are you two back on again, then?”
Grace laughed. “I don’t think we’ve ever really been off. I’ve got plans.” She took another sip of water. “Let’s face it—my body clock’s been ticking steadily for years. And now I have an established show and some serious credibility in this industry. It’s time I started thinking about having a baby.”
Kat choked, tea dribbling down her chin. She swiped at it then stared at Grace. “With Marco?”
“Of course with Marco!” Grace frowned slightly, eyeing the guy adjusting the lighting. “Is that a problem? I know you and he are close…”
“Oh, no. I mean, yes… I mean…” Kat took a breath, trying to steady her clenching gut. “We’re close and share a lot, but we do have one rule—never butt into each other’s love life.”
“Really?” Grace looked intrigued. “So he’s never commented on James or Ezio, not even in passing?”
“No.”
