Caprice was so furious, she could feel her pulse violently pounding at her temples. “Your informant tipped off another magazine, as well!” she yelled into her cellphone and then resolutely snapped it shut.

“I can’t believe it!” she muttered.

Walter Stein, Editor in Chief of FLASH, had gotten a hot tip two days ago: They’d get some bombastic news about the scandalous rapper Mac Teek if they came to Saint Tropez this weekend. Stein thought they could kill two birds with one stone and report on the opening of an art exhibit that was taking place there at the same time. He had put Caprice and John Feyn on the next flight to France. And who happened to cross her path at this art museum in Saint-Tropez? None other than her biggest competitor: Philipp Bergman, reporter at the X-PRESS.

“That raven haired devil,” she murmured, her eyes throwing daggers in his direction, as he grinned back at her nonchalantly. This wouldn’t be the first time Phil had snatched a headline from under her nose.

“Hey, sweetheart, calm down! Your face is turning the same shade of red as your sassy locks!” John ran his hand through his blonde hair. Dimples formed on his cheeks as he smiled. The photographer golden boy always seemed to be in a good mood, and thankfully it was contagious.

Caprice took a deep breath and savored the cool air on her hot skin. At times of stress she craved a cigarette, but smoking was strictly forbidden in the museum. She and her colleague had been strolling through the bright, high-ceilinged rooms of the museum- a former chapel, whose walls were covered with numerous art works, for the best part of an hour. The French painter Mondaine was exhibiting his most recent pieces, entitled ‘Shadows of Memory,’ at the Musée de l’Annonciade. They were dark paintings, which matched Caprice’s mood perfectly.

The guest list was star studded: several famous actors, singers, politicians and everyone who was anyone had turned up. John was snapping photographs and flirting with the ladies, while Caprice attempted to snatch up on as much gossip as possible.

Unfortunately, her competitor Philipp was eagerly doing the same and dazzling the female celebrities with his charm and good looks. He looked more like an actor himself in his stylish dark suit; with that sexy five o’clock shadow, he looked like a cross between Hugh Jackman and Charles Mesure.

But whatever he could do, she could do better. Caprice was wearing an emerald green dress that matched her red curly locks shamelessly emphasizing her opulent breasts. The whole outfit was finished off nicely with black stiletto heels. She attracted the attention of men like a magnet and garnered many envious looks from the women.

Everyone was waiting for the rapper Mac Teek to make an appearance but he was running late as always. The Berlin-based musician had agreed to be a benefactor to one of the artists and to donate a large sum of money to a good cause.

A murmur went through the crowd, as he stepped into the chapel along with his bodyguard. His wife, the actress Raffaela Cielo, hadn’t accompanied him. The rumors about the divorce seemed to have some truth to them.

The tall, slim singer was wearing baggy pants and a sleeveless shirt, exposing his tattoos. His Armenian roots made his skin a shade darker than the average Central European and gave him a certain Latin flair. The rapper with the bedroom eyes was in his mid-thirties, the prime of his life in fact, and Caprice for one, wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed. As he stepped into the exhibition space, he limped slightly since he had gotten into a fight the week before.

“You’re drooling,” John whispered in her ear. She rolled her eyes and shoved her elbow slyly into his side. Her colleague bent over from feigned pain and stepped away.

Had Mac Teek volunteered to be a benefactor just to enhance his image? His homophobic song lyrics had made him some enemies. Homophobia wasn’t uncommon in the rap scene and many rappers used the word ‘gay’ as an insult. Nevertheless, the label almost dropped him, because Teek had taken his lyrics a little too far. Furthermore, rumors were circulating that he owned an arsenal of illegal guns.

John carefully leaned over to her and held his arms protectively to his chest. “All eyes are on Mac Teek, just not Bergmann’s — those are on your ass.”

Once more, her cheeks became flushed and hot with anger. She found the guy attractive, too, and wouldn’t mind an erotic interlude, if only there wasn’t this deep animosity. This guy would sell his own mother for a good story.

If only I could get one over on him!

Suddenly a name popped into her head: Meggie.

Of course, Meg was here in Saint Tropez! The owner of a floating luxury brothel had sent her a text message the previous month that she would love to see Caprice again if her travels ever brought her back to the Côte d’Azure … Caprice grinned triumphantly and pulled her cellphone from her handbag. She already had a very good idea how she could get back at pretty boy Bergmann. Maybe Meg would do her a favor, seeing that Caprice had once freed her sister from the clutches of Eastern European sex traffickers. Thanks to her curiosity and with the help of a sexy policeman, Caprice had managed to bust the human trafficking ring wide open. And Meggie had promised to return the favor.

***

Three hours later and her feet were in pain. She wanted to go back to the hotel, put her feet up and work out a plan with John. But first, she needed the fish to bite. Caprice had actually managed to exchange a few words with Mac Teek as most celebrities and journalists had already left the museum. Although she hadn’t found out anything interesting, Philipp had been watching her the whole time. Very good, maybe he’d take the bait. This sly dog of an informant had told her that the rapper would come to the “Estelle” tomorrow night, a nightclub where celebrities were able to move freely.

She was sure Philipp wouldn’t miss the opportunity to get more information about this guy. There was a strong possibility that Teek would be meeting his new flame. Caprice had to make sure that Philipp wouldn’t turn up at the club as well — at all costs. She wanted the story exclusively.

Caprice indulged in a secret cigarette in the ladies’ toilet as she scribbled down the dock number where Meg’s yacht was docked on a little piece of paper. Then she looked for John in the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Unfortunately, her colleague and best friend Maren hadn’t been able to come with them to the Côte d’Azure. She had to stay behind in rainy Hamburg bed ridden with a nasty viral flu. Plotting their revenge would have been twice as much fun together with her, but John was a good replacement — in every single way.

As she looked over to him — deep in conversation with Mia Farrelli- she apologized to the actress and quickly pulled him along with her. This maneuver had captured Phil’s attention. He stared in her direction with great interest, while he kept talking to the artist.

Damn, amidst plotting her revenge, she had completely forgotten to interview Mondaine! How unprofessional!

That thought only made her more pissed off. Philipp’s presence alone had managed to mess with her job. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey, what was that?” John wasn’t very happy. “Mia was just telling me about her new movie.”

“Boring,” Caprice said, “You just wanted to get her into bed anyway.”

His brow furrowed. “And I stood a damned good chance!”

“Just play along and I’ll give you the luxury all-around-treatment.” Caprice whispered.

“You’ve convinced me,” he said and his face visibly relaxed.

She grinned. Men were simple creatures really … ”Is Philipp nearby?”

John nodded, without taking his eyes off of Caprice. “About three meters behind you. He’s grabbed a champagne glass and is pretending to be looking at a painting. He wouldn’t make a very good actor though.”

A mean thought shot through her head: Maybe his talent sufficed for a porn star.

She raised her voice. “Just imagine, Mac Teek gave me a secret meeting place where we can talk tomorrow lunchtime without worrying about anyone else interrupting!”

“What?!” He pulled Caprice along with him and hissed: “Stop shouting like that.”

“What’s Phil doing?” she asked quietly.

“Coming closer and checking out the picture behind you.”

Very good, it was all going according to plan. “Teek wants to grant me an interview. An exclusive interview to me alone!” She winked at John, and he then finally understood that she was putting on a show.

His face lit up. “Amazing how you always manage to pull this off!”

“Well, a woman’s weaponry … that’s all I’ll say about that.”

John laughed. “Teek apparently likes handling lethal weapons.”

She conspicuously waved the piece of paper in front of his nose. “I’ve got the time and the exact place of the meeting right here. Now we can relax and get the top story tomorrow.” She opened her handbag, let the paper purposefully drop next to it, and then immediately rushed out of the museum with John.

***

The only thing Caprice hated about Saint Tropez was the traffic. Good thing they had left early and it was only lunchtime, because later on, this small port city’s main street would be completely impenetrable.

John was sitting in the passenger seat of their rental convertible, his smartphone in his hand and was guiding her through the traffic with the help of a GPS app. “You have to take a left at the next intersection. We’ll be there in a minute.”

“It’s about time,” she grumbled, drumming on the steering wheel with her fingers.

The sun relentlessly burned into their rental car, but the head wind made the heat bearable and a mess of Caprice’s copper red mane of curls. Since she wasn’