The Scoop That Could Kill Me
THE city hummed like a living thing at night, lights glimmering on the river like scattered stars.
Inside the marble-floored office of Senator Richard Valdez, the air was thick, almost suffocating. His reputation preceded him: cunning, ruthless, impossibly wealthy, and dangerously charming.
And yet tonight, he wasn’t preparing a speech, nor negotiating deals, nor planning political maneuvering.
He was watching her.
Clementine Bennett, the journalist, had walked into his office under pretense of a story. Or so she thought.
From the moment she stepped across the threshold, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, she had felt it: the weight of his eyes, sharp as knives, burning into her skin. She was thirty-two. He was fifty-nine. And yet, the age didn’t
