Page 50 of Guilty Pleasures

‘Ink will be fine,’ smiled Charles and pulled out a document – a single sheet of paper which Cassandra scanned quickly.

‘All seems fairly standard …’ she said pulling out her fountain pen and signing her name with a flourish. ‘Now show me what you’ve got.’

She flipped through pages of shoes, bags, lipsticks, spas, and trend stories – most of it well executed but nothing that would get the industry ablaze with glaring originality. Cassandra frowned at a fashion spread featuring a stunning black model on a white horse.

‘Who is the photographer here?’

‘Arnold Marsaud.’

She lifted one eyebrow and looked up at him. ‘I know newspapers rather than magazine are AtlanticCorp’s forte. Therefore you might not fully understand that using sub-standard photographers is a false economy. It’s like trying to save money by buying cheap racehorses. They won’t win the Kentucky Derby.’

Charles shifted in his seat. He wasn’t used to having his projects criticized so openly.

‘We have a good team,’ he said defensively. ‘The features team come from a wide range of prestigious titles.’

Cassandra was not impressed.

‘Features? But this is supposedly a style magazine,’ she said frankly. ‘Fashion people are only interested in the environment the magazine produces. You have to get big-name fashion photographers in from the start or you’re finished.’

Charles paused, looking at Cassandra shrewdly.

‘I understand we seem to be having a few problems in that department.’

‘Why?’ asked Cassandra. ‘This is a fashion magazine.’

‘Which is why we are looking for someone with heavy-hitting fashion credentials to take over from Carrie’s good work.’

Good work my arse. Admit it, you made a bad appointment, thought Cassandra.

‘Well, Giorgio and Karl are very dear friends of mine,’ said Cassandra. ‘Guillaume Riche is like a father. And I’ve just had a very productive meeting with Forden and you know how difficult they are to please.’

‘Which is precisely why we thought of you, Cassandra,’ said Charles.

Cassandra looked at the spreads again, turning them over slowly, and then closed the portfolio.

‘Well, Charles,’ she said, ‘it’s extremely flattering that you thought of me. However, I can’t just leave UK Rive for the editorship of Project Diamond. Entre nous the company has even bigger plans for me and I’d be a fool to leave them unless there was a considerable carrot being dangled under my nose.’

Charles’s expression did not change as he flatly mentioned a high six-figure salary that made her stop and think.

‘Well, I …’

‘Plus share options, a driver and an interest-free loan to buy a property of your choice. Home ownership is so rare in Manhattan these days. New York is such a wonderful place to work.’

Charles knew he had pressed exactly the right buttons, but Cassandra forced herself to resist.

‘I was deputy editor of US Rive for three years, remember,’ she smiled. ‘I love New York, but…’ She was silent for a few moments as if she was giving it consideration.

‘What I’d be really looking for is an editorial directorship, plus …’

She wrote a seven-figure number on a napkin and passed it over to him.

‘… a remuneration package in this ball-park. And a seat on the board.’

Charles folded up the napkin slowly.

‘That would be a considerable departure for us,’ he said. ‘As you know, magazines are a new media platform for us.’

‘And I have to safeguard my career very carefully,’ she said.