Now That I've Found You (New York Sullivans #1)(11)

For a few precious moments, she could just be.

Surprisingly, she’d had a better night’s sleep in this dingy motel room than she’d had in any five-star penthouse suite. Feeling halfway normal again, she grabbed an apple and took a bite out of it as she went to the window and pulled back the curtain a couple of inches. It was still drizzling, but she could tell that it was early morning, rather than late evening.

Had she really slept for more than twelve hours?

Finishing her apple, she tossed the core into the wastebasket, then got back in the shower. God, that felt good. She’d never take feeling warm for granted again. Her clothes were almost dry, but instead of putting her too-tight jeans back on, she fluffed her new Montauk-themed sweatpants and sweatshirt with the blow-dryer and slipped them on over a new pair of cotton undies and her bra. Her clothes from the general store were a little big, but it was actually nice to wear something that didn’t cling to her skin like plastic wrap.

She heated up another microwave dinner, made a cup of coffee in the coffee maker, and sat on the bed to have breakfast and come up with a plan. All the while, however, she couldn’t forget about the darned television.

What would it really hurt to turn it on just for a few minutes? After all, if she was going to make a plan, it would probably help to have more data as to just how bad things were, right?

No, a voice inside her head warned her, don’t do it!

Normally, when the press said nasty things about her, she was able to tell herself that they were simply talking about a character she’d been playing for the cameras. Rosalind Bouchard, who liked glittering parties and front-row seats at international fashion shows, not the real Rosa, who was happiest in a quiet room with a needle and thread.

But she hadn’t been Rosalind in the pictures that guy had taken without her consent—hadn’t been posing, hadn’t had her mask on, her armor to face the public. She’d already stripped all that away by the time he took the pictures. And in some ways, that was what made her feel the most naked of all. Not just exposing the parts of her body that the public had never seen before, but the real version of herself that she had always been careful not to give away to anyone she didn’t know and care about.

Turning on the TV would only lead to more regret. Regret she simply couldn’t deal with right now on top of the shame that had fueled her every move so far. Which was why she got up off the bed, went into the bathroom, and came out with a dry towel to drape over the screen. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it helped a little bit, at least.

Sitting back down with her slightly congealed microwave meal, she took a deep breath and tried to focus on what her next step should be. The problem was that she didn’t yet know what, precisely, she wanted. Because turning back time so that the naked photos had never been taken wasn’t a plan she could actually act on.

Could she go back to her current life, or was it time to make a change? If so, what kind of change could she possibly make when the entire world thought she was only capable of being a “bad girl”? And if she did leave reality TV, how deeply would it affect her family? Would they lose the show? Would she lose them?

Or had she already lost them long before now, when their TV show and brand had become more important than protecting one of their own from true harm?

For eight years after Rosa’s father passed away, her mother had worked double shifts at the two hospitals in town as a nurse to try to make ends meet. Unfortunately, it simply wasn’t enough to withstand the crushing debt their father’s death had left them in when his aerial reporting company failed after his death. The day the casting agent had “discovered” their family in town had seemed like manna from heaven.

But none of them could possibly have imagined how five years could change everything yet again. Still, the fact remained that, whichever way she chose to go, Rosa wasn’t sure if she could forgive her mother for selling her out.

Voices in the parking lot outside her room drew her off the bed and back to the window. Peering out from between the curtains, she was surprised to see her car parked at the edge of the lot. She wanted to thank the guy getting back into his tow truck—Drake had said his name was Joe—but she couldn’t risk being recognized again. While she hoped she could trust Drake to keep his promise about not disclosing her whereabouts to anyone, she knew the odds were low that a second person would be willing to keep her secret.

Maybe it was foolish to trust Drake when she’d been betrayed so many times recently. Maybe she was mistaking his good looks for a good heart.

Or maybe it was just that she needed to believe in something—anything—right now.

In any case, as great a refuge as this motel room had been last night, she couldn’t spend the whole day here. Especially with the TV set still beckoning to her to turn it on and see exactly how bad the fallout from the pictures was.

With the sky having cleared, for a little while at least, maybe she could find a stretch of empty beach somewhere nearby without too much risk of discovery. Somewhere she could stretch her legs a bit and hopefully get her brain working again.

As she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she nearly broke out laughing at how ridiculous she looked in her head-to-toe Montauk gear. One thing was for sure—no one would even think of looking for Rosalind Bouchard in these clothes. No makeup or hairstyling helped too.

Only her purse—next season’s Versace satchel—might give her away. Slipping some twenties into the pocket of her sweatpants, she grabbed her car keys and left her purse in the room. Feeling a little like she was in a spy movie, she made sure no one else was in the parking lot before going to her car. She’d been lucky that the guy manning the motel office last night had been a contemporary of the woman behind the register at the general store, and she hoped he would remain just as uninterested in her today as he’d seemed yesterday.