Since I can’t argue with that, I invite him to come in with me, sweetening the pot by offering to buy his coffee.
We’re standing in line, chatting about The Fountainhead—the audiobook he’s currently engrossed in—when the door opens and Monica comes in. She waves and hurries over. “I was hoping I’d see you today. I wanted to tell you to ignore them. They’re just money-grubbing pricks.”
I glance at Edward. I have no idea what she’s talking about. From the expression on Edward’s face, though, I think that he does.
“What?” I say, first to Monica and then to Edward.
“You haven’t seen? It was on one of those gossip sites this morning,” Monica says. “It’s probably been tweeted all over creation.”
“What has?” I repeat, speaking slowly and clearly.
Edward reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out an iPad. He taps it a few times, then hands it to me. “Mr. Stark thought it would be better not to bother you with this today.”
“Oh, really?” I glance at the screen and my stomach curls. Yeah, I think. I could have lived without this.
The article is topped by a picture of Jamie in a teeny-tiny bikini walking on the beach. That picture features an inset of Damien’s Malibu house, along with helpful text to inform the average reader that Jamie is in Malibu, strutting her stuff at the home of billionaire Damien Stark.
HAS STARK BEEN NICKED FROM NIKKI?
According to sources in the know, billionaire Damien Stark—who some believe recently bought his way out of a murder conviction—has cooled his red hot romance with pageant pretty Nikki Fairchild in favor of Nikki’s roommate, Jamie Archer, an up-and-coming actress more recently seen on the arm (and who knows what else) of heartthrob Bryan Raine. According to sources in the Inland Empire, Archer was recently hospitalized following an accident which landed Archer in the ER and one of Stark’s prize Ferrari’s in the junkyard. And yet she’s still residing at Chez Stark? What do you think, kiddies? Surely it must be love.
But has Stark really ditched the Fair Child? Or is the king of excess looking for excess in his women, as well? According to insiders, Archer and Fairchild have been on-again-off-again lovers for years. True? We don’t know, but photographs circling on Twitter show the threesome looking all too cozy recently in Lake Arrowhead where Stark keeps a mountaintop love nest.
“That,” I say as I pass the iPad back to Edward, “is a load of crap. But Jamie’s going to be pleased. They said she was up-and-coming, after all.”
“So you’re not pissed?” Monica asks.
I shake my head. “Irritated. I’m sick to death of my personal life being twisted around in the press. But the story itself? It’s such bullshit it’s funny.”
“Well, I’m totally relieved,” Monica says. “I mean, I figured it was all crap, but it got to me anyway. I had a bad breakup,” she adds.
“I’m sorry.”
“We were hot and heavy for a long time, and then he decided he was in love with someone else. Men,” she adds, glancing at Edward with a tight little smile.
“That must have hurt.” I try to imagine Damien tossing me aside for somebody else, but the image just won’t play in my brain.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “It was like someone took a knife and sliced my heart to bits. But I’m okay,” she says with a sigh. “What we had was really special. And that girl? She’s just a fling. Temporary. He’s going to come back to me. I know it.”
I want to tell her to move on. Instead, I just smile and say, “I really hope you’re right.”
I treat Edward to a latte, and he walks me to the office. “I’ll bring the limo around as soon as we have you inside,” he says, then goes with me into the building and past reception. Once I’m settled in, he disappears, presumably to park the limo in the lot and listen to his audiobook until I’m ready to go.
Despite the fact that the last time I was in this office I was treated to images of myself with my face scratched off, I actually manage to get some work done, and I’m feeling rather smug about my productivity when Giselle calls to tell me that she won’t be coming by to show me any samples today.
“No problem. I’m going to skip out in a few hours anyway.” Tonight I’m cutting loose at Westerfield’s, and Jamie and I have already planned to spend hours obsessing about our wardrobe before we decide on the perfect outfits. Coupled with the flavored vodka we’ll undoubtedly be sipping, the whole process should be fun. “Is everything okay?” I ask Giselle.
“Couldn’t be better,” she trills. “A client coming in. One of my best ones.”
“Better be careful who you say that to. Damien won’t be keen on getting knocked from the top slot.”
There’s a pause, and then she lowers her voice. “To be honest, Damien is the client. But promise me you won’t say a word. I have a feeling he wants to buy a canvas for your office.”
I laugh, delighted. “Really? I promise to be surprised.”
I’m still smiling when Damien calls. “Hey,” I say. “I was just about to head back to Malibu to get ready for tonight. Are we going to grab something out for dinner, or do you want me to bribe Jamie to cook?”
“Why don’t you two pick your favorite restaurant—my treat—and I’ll meet you at the club later.”
“Work?”
“A meeting. I have a feeling it’ll run long.”
“Oh? Where will you be? We could have Edward swing by and pick you up when you’re done.”
I’m baiting him, of course, but he gives nothing away.
“You girls have fun,” he says firmly. “But not too much fun. Not until I get there, anyway. And, Nikki,” he adds, “I’ve already spoken to my manager about security at the club, so they’re stepping it up a notch. You’ll be watched.”
“All right,” I say. I’d expected as much.
“And I’m sending Ryan to the club. I want him with you until I get there.”
Now I do feel guilty. “Poor guy. He probably used to have a life before he had to start chasing my monsters.”
“There’s nothing he likes better than taking down a monster,” Damien says. “And the fact that I pay him so well makes it even more fun. Trust me, you don’t have to feel sorry for Ryan.”
I laugh. “Okay, then. But, Damien? Please hurry.”