Thrive (Addicted, #4)(82)
“Lo…” We’re in a room full of people. It’s a thought that disintegrates in the back of my brain.
“Lil…” He rests his forehead on mine. Then he kisses my cheek, and quickly clasps my hand, leading me in a new direction, swerving between people. I realize we’re aimed for a hallway or a bathroom. He glances back at me once, his lips rising in a gorgeous, devious smile. We’re going to have sex!
Yes. Yes. Yes.
My body thrums with victory and applause. It’s not wrong. It’s so right. I hold onto his one hand with both of mine, afraid that we’ll break apart and I’ll lose him.
And then a sloshed guy with black Ray-Ban sunglasses on—indoors—haphazardly cuts through us, tearing my hand right from Lo’s. Another guy in a white button-down rushes through the same space. “Wait up, Luke!” he shouts after him.
His momentum forward pushes me backwards. I nearly stumble into an old lady with oversized jewelry.
Three, four…five other people follow the two guys like a wolf pack.
Luke essentially created a pathway right between Lo and me.
What’s worse: I can’t see Lo anymore. It’s like he’s vanished from the building, lost in the sea of bodies. I spin around, my heart pumping, the need thrumming for him. Where’d he go? I rotate one more time and catch eyes with a woman in a maroon dress. My attention narrows straight to her honey-colored curly hair that’s strangely tamed despite the large volume.
She stops mid-sentence in a conversation with another woman, white wine in both their hands. Her face just lights up when she sees me. For a brief moment, I wonder if I personally know this woman. She takes a few tentative steps forward, like she’s a vampire I haven’t invited in my house yet.
“Hi, Lily, I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long. I’m glad I caught you here.” She holds out her hand for me to shake.
I hesitantly do, a foreboding feeling in my gut. I scrutinize her deep red lipstick, darker skin and perfectly matched high heels, jewelry and dress. Very fashionable. “You must be Rose’s friend,” I say. “From Princeton?” Though she seems a little old to be a college graduate with Rose, probably in her early thirties.
She lets out a small, weak laugh like are you serious? You don’t know who I am? Oh God. Is she famous? A celebrity?
Shit.
I suck. I really wish Lo was—
“I’m Wendy Collins, a staff writer at Celebrity Crush.”
My face plummets. Wendy Collins. The one who posted my letter that I sent to her, online for the whole world to see. The one perpetuating any and all rumors that I’m sleeping with Loren and his brother…at the same time.
Wendy Collins. I have nothing to say to you. Any harsh, horrible insults that stick to the back of my throat must stay there. I don’t have one of my family’s publicists to help redirect the conversation. If I spout anything wrong, she’ll just twist my words for a better headline.
I know that now.
Maybe she can read the horror on my face because she adds quickly, “You have to realize that I’m just doing my job. If I didn’t write those stories, somebody else would have, and I wouldn’t be paid nearly enough to afford rent in New York City. We don’t all come from money.”
Right. I don’t know if it’s my civic duty to let people berate me on the internet so they can afford their apartment. Maybe it is. Maybe this is the cost of growing up in luxury.
“I have to go,” I say, about to turn around. “I have to find my best friend.” Wrong term, Lily. I redden. “My boyfriend,” I amend and then wince. Still not right. “My fiancé. And yes, they are all the same person.” So there.
“We were just talking about your sister,” she says, freezing me in place.
I turn back, taking the bait too easily. Wendy motions to another woman by her side, older with a short blonde haircut and a pointed chin like a wicked witch. “This is Andrea DelaCorte an Executive Editor at Celebrity Crush.”
“Pleasure,” Andrea says, sipping her wine. Her needled brown eyes cast judgment from my toes to my face, probably speculating how many bodies touched mine.
Wendy doesn’t seem so evil compared to Andrea.
“What about my sister?” I ask, a little defensively, considering her name will most likely crop up on their front pages soon. And not only because of the wedding switch.
“Andrea and I were discussing how great it is to have someone like Rose in the public eye. She’s a female figure that we believe a lot of women can rally behind.”
What…?
Off my frown, Andrea says, “She’s been with Connor Cobalt for over a year, and she’s stayed committed to him through everything.”
Wendy nods in agreement. “Especially after her ex-boyfriend tried to break them apart. It’s empowering to have someone like Rose out there—she’s independent, driven, and sexually open. I wouldn’t be surprised if women start asking her for relationship advice.”
Rose? Relationship advice? I never thought I’d hear those words. Or that a sex tape could be spun positively rather than negatively.
I don’t understand. Wouldn’t she be slandered and outcast like me? A weight just drops on my chest.
“That’s a great idea actually,” Andrea says. “Do you think your sister would be open to a short column on the blog? It can be about sex tips, a guide to dating, anything in that field.” Sex tips?