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“And you feel a different approach would be more beneficial to my brand?”
I bite my lip and consider his question. “Probably not. In your world, sex sells. I’m sure a straight-laced rock star wouldn’t be very appealing to the masses. In fact, your sales would probably tank the moment you stopped dry-humping models in your music videos.”
I meant that last part as a joke, sort of.
A smile appears on his lips. “What’s your name?”
“Juliet,” I say, growing more aware of our closeness with each second. I can’t explain it, but there is something about this man that makes my insides quicken. Keeping my cool is no easy feat.
“Ryan Knox,” he says, introducing himself. The way his deep voice purrs out his own name is intoxicating. “So, Juliet. Who do you represent?”
Fuck.
Abort mission.
The last thing I need right now is for my bosses to get a call that I was talking shit to one of the biggest stars on the planet.
As if on cue, Alyssa throws her arms around my shoulder and her eyes go wide as she realizes who I’m standing with. “Holy shit, it’s you. Hi. I’m a huge fan.”
I have never been more thankful for an interruption.
“Ryan, this is Alyssa. My best friend.” I nod in her direction, and he flashes her a wicked smile. I roll my eyes.
“Hello, Alyssa. Your friend was just schooling me on my image. Tell me, do you find me mysterious and unattainable?” He directs the question to her, but his eyes never leave mine.
She giggles nervously. “Uh, sure. I guess.”
“And predictable?” he continues.
The challenge in his eyes is mouthwatering.
Alyssa shakes her head. “Oh, no! I think you’re incredible. You know, like, really incredible.”
I’m not sure how to feel about her fawning over him, but I push away the unwelcome possessiveness just as quickly as it comes on.
“I don’t know; I may need to fire my publicist. Clearly, I’m being steered in the wrong direction. Tell me, Juliet. Which firm do you work for? Or do you own your own? It seems you have quite a bit of knowledge when it comes to branding a rock star.”
He’s testing me, trying to figure out if I can back up all the shit I’ve been spewing out.
“Oh! Jules isn’t a—” I grab her arm before she can reveal that I’ve just bullshitted my way into a very precarious situation. I can imagine the look on his face when she finishes that sentence.
“Jules isn’t a publicist; she’s just an intern.”
Not to mention our company has never even come close to representing someone of his magnitude.
“Alyssa, it’s getting late. I need to get home. That proposal isn’t going to finish itself,” I say, my eyes pleading with her to catch on.
“Oh, uh... yeah. Your proposal. For your client. Your… famous client. Because you’re a publicist,” she says.
Jesus. And she wants to be an actress? Please remind me to sign her up for the next improv class I can find.
Ryan’s face gives away his amusement.
I begin to drag my best friend toward the exit. “It was nice to meet you!” she calls out to him.
“You too,” he replies with an annoying smirk. “And Juliet, I hope to see you again.”
When we’re finally outside, fresh air slams into me. I let out a deep breath and try to steady myself.
