Page 57 of Guilty Pleasures

Cassandra could feel herself smarting just looking at Toxic. On the flight over from Heathrow, she’d been forced to sit next to him and listen to his inane chatter about his many professional triumphs and sexual conquests. He was particularly excited about the trip as Isaac Grey had called him personally – a word Jason emphasized, presumably to impress Cassandra – to invite him along. In the end, Cassandra had been forced to feign fatigue in order to shut him up. Pretending to be asleep, she could still hear him boasting to the flight attendants.

‘This morning’s session we are going to be considering the threat of Project Diamond, the AtlanticCorp magazine launching in the US in September,’ continued Isaac, sounding more like a general addressing his troops than a publisher. ‘Here’s what we know: it’s weekly and they are aggressively targeting our advertisers, so we can assume they will be stepping on our toes editorially. We also know they are supporting the new launch by advertising in their newspapers and on their cable channels, which makes them very dangerous. So I need your best thoughts on this one, people.’

‘But I heard they were about to fire their editor,’ interjected Glenda with the confidence of the most senior editor in the room. Isaac nodded – it clearly wasn’t news to him. ‘Which suggests they are having a few teething problems, but we have to assume that this is merely a blip. A company like AtlanticCorp is not going to launch anything which is not the best it can be,’ he looked at Glenda meaningfully. ‘It would be a fool who doesn’t consider them a threat.’

Isaac then handed over to Greg Barbera who instructed the group that he wanted each of them to think of how their edition would cope with the threat of a Project Diamond launch in their territory.

‘Go grab a fruit juice,’ he said, ‘find yourself a shady corner and go and “imagineer”! Brainstorm in pairs if you like, but I want you to present individually. We want to hear what you think.’

Cassandra was the first to leave the conference room. She walked through the early morning sun to her cottage where she freshened up and retrieved some notes she had brought with her. By the time she emerged ten minutes later, the grounds were dotted with Rive employees, an editor in the hammock under a palm tree, another under a thatched parasol on the pink sands. A couple of editors were working together but most seemed to be alone. That figures, she thought, as they would all be aware that this was less about safeguarding Rive’s position and more about showcasing their own talent.

‘Jason,’ she smiled. Cassandra’s shadow fell across Tostvig’s face and he squinted up at her from his sun-lounger. He had taken off his shirt and Cassandra couldn’t help noticing he had a nice body. Lean and firm, with a rippled six-pack that was the distinct bronzed colour of St Tropez self-tan. Cassandra snapped her eyes away, angry with herself that she was becoming a little aroused. A waiter came over and put a beer on the table next to Jason’s lounger.

‘Working hard?’ she asked, pointing at the blank pad next to the glass.

‘Imagineering,’ said Jason sarcastically, shielding his eyes.

‘Well, I expect this is where your newspaper experience is going to come into its own for once,’ said Cassandra tartly.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Jason, sitting up and putting on his sunglasses.

‘Oh, you know; newspapers are good at this sort of added-value thing. Free CDs, DVDs, collect the vouchers and get your own library of Danielle Steele books, that sort of thing. Get the right item and you’ve got a guaranteed sales boost. Isaac was desperate for us to get free flights a couple of years ago, but nothing ever came of it.’

‘Well, if you sit down and be a good girl I might tell you how we did it at the Herald.’

‘I don’t need your help, Jason,’ said Cassandra coldly.

Tostvig smiled.

‘Suit yourself. Oh, by the way, why don’t you wear shorts more often in the office?’ he asked, looking her up and down.

Cassandra knew she looked stunning in a pair of black cotton shorts and a white silk vest top with gold gladiator sandals weaving their way up her legs. For once she didn’t mind his eyes raking over her body.

‘I might, if you lend me your sunglasses for the next couple of hours.’

Jason took them off and frowned at them.

‘What do you need them for?’

‘Nothing …’

‘Nothing you do, Cassandra, is for nothing.’

‘Ain’t it the truth,’ she smiled, whipping the shades from his hand and walking away.

Fifty minutes later, Silvia Totti kicked off with her plan for freezing out Project Diamond.

‘Without the raw materials, this magazine will be nothing. If they cannot use the best photographers, the best models, no one will take them seriously and their fashion advertising will dry up,’ said the Italian editor with a half-smile. ‘With the right pressure applied in the right places, AtlanticCorp could find that all the supermodels are booked. Photographers too, stylists, make-up artists,’ she purred like some Machiavellian queen. For a second, the room nodded their approval at Silvia’s master-plan until Isaac pointed out that if everyone started playing dirty, AtlanticCorp also owned a movie studio and could put an embargo on numerous Hollywood stars ever appearing in Rive. Silvia sat down quickly.

Sheri Ellison, the Australian editor, talked about budget cuts and producing less original material, even though the Australian issue already had a budget a third the size of the UK edition and used over 75 per cent of material from the US and UK editions. Glenda was nodding like some elder statesman. Like she understands budget cuts, thought Cassandra. As long as they didn’t affect her.

Glenda’s vision was radical: she proposed to turn Rive into a weekly. Overrunning the allotted five-minute presentation slot by twenty minutes, her proposal was sweeping and convincing; she had clearly done her homework, throwing in projected sales figures and promising a 40 per cent increase in profit within five years. Cassandra wasn’t surprised she sounded more like a publisher than an editor. Glenda was a businesswoman first and foremost: that’s why she had survived in the industry for so long. There was a long and heated debate after her presentation about whether the industry could sustain multiple fashion weeklies but Isaac had looked impressed and had been making notes constantly throughout. Cassandra knew

she would have to produce something special to beat it.

‘I started this exercise by putting my old newspaper executive hat on,’ began Jason Tostvig, instantly captivating the largely female audience with the wattage of his broad white smile.

‘In the line of attack, Rive needs to offer more value for money. At the Herald we found that everybody – rich and poor – loves a freebie.’ He pulled a white linen laundry bag from under the table and tipped out the contents. Cassandra heard a couple of gasps from around the table and smiled when she saw Isaac’s face pale. Jason, however, carried on confidently, unaware of the reaction.