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“Hi.” I’m not sure what to say, but she seems to have everything figured out. “Why have I never heard of you before?”
“I work in the shadows, staying hidden behind the scenes. My services are like Fight Club—only those at the very top know me when they need an expert to help them clean up a mess. Just to be clear, I’m only here because your brothers called in a huge favor. Technically, you don’t qualify. But the Calloways have kept my family in business for decades.”
I stare at her, realizing I thought I knew everything about running a successful company. If there are entire organizations I’ve never heard of that assist those at the top, what else is out there that I don’t know?
“What does this entail?”
“How good are you at following directions?”
“Depends on who’s giving them,” I reply.
“You said you were willing to do whatever it takes to save Bellamore,” Weston reminds me.
He’s right; I did say that, and I meant it wholeheartedly. I’d do anything for my company. Well, anything except beg on my knees for Asher. I do have some boundaries after all.
Stormy sizes me up. She looks only a few years older than I am. In a different context, we might even be friends. As she brushes her hair behind her ear, I catch sight of a massive diamond on her finger—at least twenty carats, worth a few million dollars. So, her fiancé is definitely rich.
“You’re a modern-day sex symbol, dressed like you’re giving a speech at a funeral of a great-aunt you never met,” she comments. “I don’t get it.”
“Damn, is being brutally honest part of your job as a publicist?” I ask.
“I specialize in crisis management,” she explains. “I don’t have time to sugarcoat things. We’re on a tight schedule.”
“We’re already in crisis mode?” I ask, feeling genuinely annoyed with my brothers. “It’s only been a week.”
“We agreed that if one of us wasn’t confident you could save Bellamore and outsmart Asher, we’d call Stormy,” Weston clarifies.
“I’m sorry, but you need an expert. It’s too risky to wing it,” Easton adds. “I believe in you, but a road map is essential.”
“Why the black wardrobe? Explain it to me,” Stormy asks, completely ignoring my brothers.
“The media started calling me the Wednesday Addams of Fashion, so I embraced it.”
“Embraced it or just lay down and took it?” she asks. “Do you know who came up with that nickname?”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head.
“Josh Lustre,” she says. “That’s who I traced it back to. So, tell me this: will you keep playing his cards, or are you ready to play a different game? Your game.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Tell me your plan.”
14
ASHER
The sun finally sets, and my eyes burn from staring at the computer screen for two hours. It’s been a long day of playing defense, and while it was expected, being “on” nonstop is exhausting. I have to be quick on my feet, ready to respond to any question at a moment’s notice.
When I got back from running into Billie, I was thrust into an emergency meeting, followed by several conference calls. My publicist and agent are losing their minds, and investors are low-key panicking, even though we’re booked with clients for the rest of the year and have a long wait list. Gossip sites and media outlets have bombarded me, clamoring for a statement about the sign I hung for Billie, along with our coffee date. My timing couldn’t have been better.
So many are desperate for me to confirm if we’re secretly together. Others want to know if I think Josh Lustre can actually take over the fashion industry.
Absolutely not.
He was right about one thing: as long as Bellamore is active, he’ll never be at the top.
I hop online and type in Billie’s name. It seems like the princeand his team have worked overtime this evening to overshadow the headlines from earlier today. The fake relationship story has been twisted in several directions, but somehow, they’re still losing to the secret relationship rumor that kicked off the night of the award ceremony. Just wait—I’m only getting started. Right now, I’m just pregaming.
I lean back in my chair, running my hand over my face. I can’t shake thoughts of Billie and how she asked me if kissing her had been a mistake. She was looking for confirmation that I’d felt nothing, but I couldn’t find the words. She snatched them away like a thief in the night. Now that I’ve seen her vulnerability—the part of her she keeps hidden from everyone else—I can’t look away.