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She holds a hand up in the air. “Promise. Now, why in the hell didn’t you tell me about Aspen,” she barks, getting right to business.
“I was going to. The night of the gala. But then you—”
“Gotcha,” she stops me, holding up her hand. “Okay, so this is huge, Ryker. The President’s daughter?”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
She steps over to the couch and plops down, crossing her legs. “Have you talked with her since the press release? How is she holding up?”
Following her into the living area, I sit down in the chair and stare up at the ceiling, my hands on my head. “I haven’t talked with her in days.”
She shifts in her seat and I don’t have to look at her face to know her eyes are popping out. “What? So, are you guys not together?”
I tell her everything, which is pretty much nothing since we haven’t talked. Replaying our last visit, I still don’t know what I did wrong. Other than her seeing the pictures, but that didn’t happen until a few days after I left her room.
My gut twists in knots thinking I’ve lost her. And it’s not like I can go see her. They’ll lock the place down like Ft. Knox.
Bree listens to me ramble about how screwed up this whole situation is.
She rolls her neck and then checks her calendar. “Okay. You’re out of town all next week, so I’ll get in touch with Aspen’s PR person. Find out what she’s saying about you because you’ll be a topic of discussion on her end too.”
The last place I want to be is flying around the US doing keynote speaking and guest appearances. But I can’t back out now. “Make sure all the talk shows I’m doing, Aspen is off-limits.”
“Already noted,” she says, holding up her phone and shaking it. “I’ll update you as soon as I hear something from them. For now, stay on the down-low.”
Laughter bubbles up inside me. “You know what happened the last time you told me that.”
“You never listen,” she says in a teasing tone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aspen
One week of intense crazy.
My world has turned upside down, inside out, and any normalcy I was holding on to is no longer anywhere close to normal. The news broke about me five days ago, and every second since has been stolen from me. I can’t catch my breath most days.
I long for the island, the wall of water keeping me hidden. At least my prison there didn’t suffocate me. Publishing houses have contacted me to write a book. And movie deals are coming in.
The world has gone crazy.
I’m afraid to leave the ranch. Reporters camp outside the gates. In. Freaking. Tents. David and Beatrice tell me it will eventually die down. The only positive to being held hostage here is I’ve had some quality time with everyone.
Today, though, I’m stepping in front of all the crazy. They have advised me they’ll never go away if I don’t give them something. So, reluctantly, I agreed to hold a press conference. In an hour, I’ll spill my guts to a world of strangers. My stomach sours and I swallow back the nausea.
I can’t get sick. I can’t get sick.
Merde! My mouth waters and my body’s heat spikes. I dash to the bathroom and empty my stomach. Mila comes running in and holds my hair out of my face. Well, at least I won’t be spilling my guts in front of the nation, literally.
“Nothing says sisterly love like holding my hair so I don’t get vomit on it,” I joke, wiping my mouth with the washcloth she hands me.
She flashes a sympathetic smile as I fall against the cool tiled wall, taking a breath. “This sucks, there’s no other way to describe it. I hate this for you. But we will all be there with you, standing behind you if you need us.”
“You can finish anytime you wish,” Halli says, standing by my side, right inside the gates. “Just give me the look.”
“Well…” April, my PR rep, interrupts and Halli sends her a warning glare. “Try to get out everything we went over before you duck out.” She seeks Halli’s approval, and she does a curt nod in return. “Remember to find the reporters we discussed. We’ve already approved their questions.”
I bite my lip, repeating in my head what I’m supposed to look for.
