Page 32 of Nothing to You (Nothing to… #7)

THEY DANCED, they drank, they schmoozed. Somehow, they ended up back at the elevated seating area, him in a huddle with the guys standing next to the women occupying the table.

Her feet hurt and her jaw was tired. If that was a measure of her night, there wasn’t a person in the city who didn’t know everything she did about Huddle Hope.

Still, it didn’t feel like a job, like a chore she wanted to get out of the way.

Huddle Hope was important; it was her duty to make others see that.

For too long, complacency ruled. Disparaging the system was easy.

Anyone could talk about how things needed to change and how someone had to try something because doing nothing failed them all.

Huddle Hope was that something. If it didn’t get off the ground or failed, it wouldn’t be because she hadn’t given it her all.

Slumping at the table by Roxie, she loved her friend for pushing a fresh cocktail over to her.

“Z and I are going back to New York.”

“Oh no!” Straightening, she picked up the fruity drink to sip. “LA was bad enough, now you’re crossing the continent?”

“Jane’s coming,” Roxie said. “We were talking to Merci and she really wants to meet you.”

“I want to meet her too.”

“Reid, her fiancé, he has all kinds of medical contacts in New York. And there’s a woman you absolutely have to charm. Her support could be pivotal.”

“That’s great. Maybe we can ask some of their contacts to donate their time.

Focus group them. Float our ideas and get their take.

Johann will hate it, but I’d love to hear thoughts from outside our circle.

And the more endorsements we collect, the better.

Do you think they’d campaign for us? Maybe do some videos, something for the marketing packet?

You know how these things can snowball if they have the right faces involved. ”

“Toria has a marketing background and our friend in Chicago owns a marketing company. She’s jet-setting around the world right now, but she’ll come back for this. Well, she’ll come back if you convince the doctors in New York.”

“Me? No. This can’t be done over video call. What does that say about our commitment to Huddle Hope? No, it has to be done face to face, in a formal or informal setting fine, but we have to show reverence for what we’re doing.”

“I agree.”

“Mosaic is officially working in tandem with Lola’s Liberty on this. That gives you exactly the—”

“Not me,” Roxie said. “You’re going to do it.”

“I can’t. Web link—”

“In person. You’re coming to New York with us.”

She blinked. “I am?”

“Why not? There are a lot of deep pockets in New York. Get the docs on board, get together with Merci and Toria. All goes well, we’ll bring Rainie in and set up another party, just like this one.

We can have all kinds of fundraisers. Rich people love that shit.

That view that they care about more than just themselves.

And you have some Hollywood darlings on board now.

Invite them and the Wall Street guys will eat it up.

Money means acceptance, right? Might be worth doing the same in Boston.

Lilya has all kinds of contacts up there. I told you we had a network.”

And Rourke had been right about only needing to convince one person. Getting in front of Zairn was the best thing that happened to Huddle Hope. Other than Rourke noticing its potential, but she wouldn’t give him explicit credit for that.

“But New York…”

“It’s an amazing city, and that’s coming from a Chicago girl. I wanted to hate it, but just couldn’t.”

“I can’t afford—”

“It’s on Mosaic’s dime and you can stay with us too. Crimson is your home. There’s plenty of space in Rouge HQ and so many people I want you to meet.”

“You can stay in my apartment, if you want,” Lilya said across the table. “If you want your own space.”

Away from Crimson people? Roxie was full on with her friends, but it wasn’t the people that held her back. What was holding her back? New York offered amazing opportunities.

“Whatever makes you happy, honey,” Roxie said. “We’ll look after you either way.”

New York. Hmm, it deserved at least some thought.

Before she could reach any conclusions, Mieux hurried over and dipped to whisper. “Diva’s here.”

Diva? Who was she talking about with—no. Her mouth opened in a gasp that clenched her guts. Diva. Rourke’s ex. Alaina Havenash. No fucking way.

“What?” she barked, her head snapping around. “Where? Who invited her?”

“No one,” Mieux said, clearly nervous. “She’s not on the list, but…”

“She’ll expect to get in anyway.”

They didn’t call her Diva for no reason. And why shouldn’t she get in? As far as any employee was concerned, Alaina Havenash was a beautiful woman with grace and allure. She’d never met the woman, but already knew better.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll handle it.”

Mieux nodded once and scurried off. Diva was one responsibility she had to take care of herself.

“What’s going on?” Roxie asked, drawing closer.

First thing was first. “Keep an eye on him,” she said, gesturing Rourke’s way with her head, so as not to draw his attention. “Do not let him leave this table until you see me again.”

“Okay,” Roxie said, confused, her brow descended.

Her friend sensed her worry, but there wasn’t time to explain. Leaving the table, she headed outside. Fast. If the model got in and people saw her, word would get to Rourke. He’d never just let it go. He’d end up face to face with his ex and that would ruin his whole night.

And there the beauty was. Trust a model to eat up all those lenses trained on her.

The gorgeous, incredible Alaina stood on the red carpet in front of the Huddle Hope backdrop. Flashes cascaded over and around her; dozens of hungry paparazzi gobbled up the chance to get as many photographs as they could.

It was publicity, sure, but not the kind she wanted associated with the event. Diva was one personality Huddle Hope did not need in their arsenal.

She got the attention of the security guard at the other side of the display. Widening her eyes and tipping her head to the side, she gave him the signal to cross the carpet, catching Diva on the way.

The model’s own guard was stopped by another from getting too close. Perfect. Just what she needed. Jane’s security recommendation paid dividends. They were earning their fee and then some.

At the edge of the carpet, in the shadow by the entrance, she walked right up close to the beauty. Her heels gave her a boost, but not enough to counter the supermodel in her own heels. Still, she stood tall.

“You weren’t invited,” she said, her lips hardly moving from her smile.

They might be in shadow, but the press was still right there. If they wanted a story, any face off would be a scandal they’d seize. A photograph or whisper of any confrontation could change the story of the night.

“I don’t need an invitation,” Diva said. “Everyone wants me at their event.”

The arrogance might be well-placed in other environments. It wasn’t welcome at Crimson. Not that night.

Without blinking, she locked their eyes. “I don’t want you here and I don’t want your money.” Still, she kept her smile high. “I will let you walk through the front door, providing you walk straight out the back. No canapés, no champagne. Your ass leaves via the alley.”

Diva laughed, tossing her hair from her shoulder. “I don’t know who you think you are—”

“You think I’ll let you fuck with him again?” she asked, her eyes hardening as her smile faded. “You walked out of his life when he should’ve run from yours. I won’t let it happen again.”

The model might not have expected something personal, but the man they had in common was not up for debate. Alaina Havenash had her chance with Rourke and had screwed it up by screwing him up. Friendship meant more than business, altruistic or not.

“Xavien? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no right to bring up my personal life.”

When Diva tried to step around her, she shifted into her path. “I don’t give a shit what you think you know. Your personal life means nothing to me, providing you stay out of his. If you try to weasel your way back in, then it’s very important to me. Very. Important.”

“Are you his latest fling? They never last, sweetie. He won’t stay with you. You can’t give him what he needs.”

“Because you couldn’t give him what he needs?” Surprise flashed on the model’s face. “He was lucky to get away from you in one piece. You’re a trauma no man deserves to endure.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. If he hears you’ve talked to me this way, you’ll lose your job, your home, and anything else I ask him to take from you.”

“Let me worry about that while you make your undramatic exit.”

“Where is he? Let’s ask him. Hmm? Ask him who he’d rather have at his party. Me or…” Diva did the superiority thing well. “He’ll choose me over you. You’re no one. You don’t know him, and you don’t know me.”

“I know Huddle Hope has put him back in the headlines. He’s hip, right now, for you and your shallow friends, that’s exposure you want a piece of.” She moved in closer. “And I am telling you, it is not happening.”

“Move out of my way.”

“You want to do this?” she asked, her voice dropping in volume and tone.

“Those pap flashes mean nothing to me. Do you want the whole world to see you get your ass handed to you on the red carpet? Because nothing would make me happier than to take you down. Choose. Back door or on your ass right here. How would you like to leave this party, Babycakes?”

“If you put your hands on me, I’ll have you arrested.”

“If you try to set foot in the party, I’ll have security escort you to the cops. You’re not getting in here. I’d take jail over watching you mangle him again. Does Diva want to keep her dignity or to lose a fucking eye? Imagine what that would do for your career.”

Her faux gasp only provoked the model’s frown. She shouldn’t gloat, but it felt good to win. Alaina Havenash was welcome everywhere. Except anywhere Rourke was, it would stay that way so long as she had anything to say about it.