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 ofFLASH, 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 theX-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 finis