Chapter 10 Kady #2
“You have no choice,” he proclaims. “Someone from PR will send you a copy of your statement, and a car will arrive any minute to pick you up for the photoshoot.”
He hangs up abruptly, leaving me stunned into silence, staring down at the screen as a knot of dread furls in my stomach. This is so much worse than I expected.
Sabs shoots me a half-smile. “At least you’re not gonna be walking down the aisle, right?”
That’s what I wanted, isn’t it? I chew my lip and push away the bowl of buttercream as an icy chill washes over me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call this thing off?” Delilah squeezes my shoulder. “Now that the wedding’s been cancelled, you could tell your dad the truth, or make up a story about breaking up with the Blandon Pack?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Dad would just contact the Oakwood Pack to make amends. More time needs to pass. If I have to do a few interviews and grit my teeth through a photoshoot, then that’s what I’ll do.”
I sense she wants to say more but nods grimly, dolloping a blob of buttercream onto the first cupcake so violently that it flies everywhere.
“It looks like your ride is here.” Sabs points at the window where we can see Margie in a high-vis vest flanked by two security guards escorting a slow driving limousine down the street.
Other students gather on their porches, still in their pajamas, ogling the scene.
“Do you want us to come with you?” Delilah offers.
“I’ll be fine.” I quickly slip on my ballet flats, knowing it doesn’t matter what I wear as there will be a team waiting to dress me when I arrive.
“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” she adds. “We’re here for you.”
The truth is, I’ve always done things on my own.
Although I know the Stellas would do anything if I asked, being alone is how I cope best. I’m not good at leaning on other people.
After Mom died, I didn’t have siblings or many friends, so I threw myself into my schoolwork and books.
Plus, my father taught me that people can’t be depended on.
Perhaps I’ve internalized it a little too much.
“I know.” I feign a smile. “Thank you for the offer.”
“I can make us a nice dinner when you get back,” Delilah says. “I’ll ask Faye to come over, so we can have a proper Stella night.”
“You’ll be able to tell us about all the stupid shit the Cockburn twins had to say.” Sabs winks. “And I’ll make a pinata with their faces on it. Or a dartboard.”
“Yes, to all of the above,” I reply.
Margie’s yelling cuts through the air, making me grimace. “I better go out there before Margie has a heart attack.”
“Good luck,” Delilah murmurs.
It’s going to take a lot more than luck to get me through the next few hours.
I reach the limo just as Kyro rolls the window down. He hangs out of it, swinging a champagne bottle.
“Kady-kins!” His voice makes me cringe, like dragging a fresh manicure down a chalk board. “Your pack is here!”
“Keep your head inside the vehicle!” Margie yells, wielding her Taser. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
Please shock him. I cross my fingers. Maybe then I can get out of this photoshoot.
“Your father got special permission for your pack to enter Omega Village one time, Kady.” Margie’s pinkish-silver hair flies everywhere.
“But it won’t be approved again.” Her deep wrinkles appear more pronounced as she frowns and steps forward, dropping her voice so only I can hear.
“Are you okay, hon? These alphas don’t seem like the kinda men I’d want my granddaughter dating. ”
“Everything’s fine,” I reassure her. “And don’t worry, they won’t need permission to enter OV again.”
I draw in a huge lungful of fresh air, making the most of it before I’m trapped in a small space with the stinky assholes.
“Are you happy to see us again, Kady-kins?” Shea croons as I slide into the back with them. Apparently, his brother’s annoying nickname for me has caught on.
He reclines across the limo seats, propping his legs on the cushions. Kyro’s in a similar position, draping himself over the other side, smothering the seats. That leaves only a tiny space for me to perch next to Tyler, who is sipping a flute of champagne like he thinks he’s royalty.
Kyro looks out the window, pointing at the house. “Is that a cat?”
I turn to see Larry’s cute face pressed against the pane, staring after me.
“Someone should put it down,” Kyro sneers. “Put it out of his misery. What kind of animal wants to look like that?”
“Larry lives a perfectly good life, if you must know.” I clench my fists, battling to contain my simmering rage. “And have you taken a look in the mirror lately?”
“Let’s all play nice, hm?” Tyler raises his little finger as he drinks his fizz. “It was nice of your father to arrange this for us.”
Shea locates a box of snacks then rifles through it, smacking his lips together as he tears open a pack of jerky. “I could get used to this.”
“Well, don’t,” I snarl.
My stomach churns, watching Shea tear the strips of meat and chew loudly with his mouth open. I tear my eyes away before I vomit.
“You shouldn’t have spoken to the press,” I say to Tyler. “That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Our deal was to make it look like our love is real.” Tyler smirks. “You wanted a fake pack, didn’t you?”
“Talking to the media is different. I assume you signed the paperwork that was sent to you?” I cross my arms. “Everything has to go through my father’s PR team from now on.”
“Or what?” Kyro chips in. “You can’t order us around. You need us, remember?”
“I’m a Sinclair.” I narrow my eyes on him. “While I temporarily require your assistance, you should remember that my father is one of the most powerful men in the country. He could destroy your lives, reputations, and any future prospects in seconds.”
“Woah, no need to drone on.” Kyro rolls his eyes. “We get it, okay? No more comments to the media. We signed those contract thingies.”
“Good.” Relief washes over me. “Remember, today is simply a photo opportunity. All you need to do is keep your mouth shut, and try not to ruin anything.”
I don’t know where we’re heading, but I hope it’s not far as my nostrils are already burning from Tyler’s strong sterile odor. The twins smell even worse than usual. After their night out yesterday, they still reek of booze and horrendous BO.
To my surprise, we come to a stop at the SVU arts building. After the driver comes around to open the door, I recognize Lindsay—my father’s Head of PR— standing by the entrance, waving her arms. She’s worked for Dad for years and is the best in the business at spinning a story.
She only wears black, so everything matches, but she always looks like she got ready in a rush in the dark. Today, she wears vibrant pink glasses that make her look like an oversized bug.
She hurries over to greet me. “Finally! We got off the helicopter an hour ago. What took you so long?” She air-kisses my cheeks then pulls back to give me a once over. “Never mind, you’re here now. And it’s always a pleasure to see you.”
The Blandon Pack’s confidence seems to falter, each of them staying refreshingly quiet. Guess my pep talk worked.
“Follow me.” Lindsay leads us inside then jostles us through a sea of corridors while she discusses color schemes, makeup, and outfits.
“It would have been better to shoot in New York, but it’d have taken too long.
The SVU arts department has the best studio around here.
” She pushes a door open with a flourish. “Here we are.”
The studio is a flurry of activity; an entire team is busy, constructing various props.
“Move that over there!” Lindsay points at a garish vase. “Get rid of the orange cushions. We want softer colors.”
She shoves me down into a chair. I can’t catch my breath before I’m attacked by a gaggle of hair and makeup artists brandishing brushes, curling irons, and mascara wands. In the chaos, I can’t see the Blandon Pack, but I can hear Kyro complaining, “Hey! Makeup is for girls.”
After getting ready in a whirlwind, Lindsay whisks me into an adjoining room to change. A demure dress, befitting my father’s taste, hangs in wait. It’s navy with a high neckline, long sleeves, and stops below the knee.
“After last night’s photos, we need to make you look a little more…” Lindsay drapes a string of pearls around my neck. “Polished.”
“Whatever you think.”
I’ll do anything for this to be over with as soon as possible.
When I return to the studio, the room has been transformed to resemble a drawing room in an old English manor house complete with a chintzy sofa, landscape paintings, bulky pieces of antique furniture, and frilly lamps. It looks ridiculous.
On the plus side, Tyler’s suit seems to fit for a change. However, his pale-blue shirt does nothing for his pasty skin tone, making him look even more washed out. Kyro and Shea are both caked in foundation to cover their dark circles. Thank fuck for airbrushing.
“Let’s go!” Lindsay claps her hands, making the photographers jump. “Kady, you sit in the middle there.”
“The middle?” Tyler looks up sharply. “But I’m the pack leader.”
“Kadence is a Sinclair.” Lindsay purses her lips. “And you.” She wrinkles her nose. “Well, you are a nobody.”
Tyler’s cheeks flush, Shea bares his teeth, and Kyro scowls at hearing a beta woman give him a dressing down.
“Come on, Tyler.” I pat the spot next to me. “Sit down, darling.”
Calling him anything other than a weasel is a challenge, but after promising to keep them in line, I want to avoid causing a scene in front of my dad’s employees.
Tyler reluctantly plops down next to me, gripping the arm of the chair tightly, his jaw ticking.
“You can sit on Kady’s other side, Kyro.” Lindsay beckons him over. “And your brother can stand behind.”
I stifle a cough from his overwhelming stench as Kyro drapes his arm around my shoulder.
Shea clicks his fingers. “Where’s the champagne?”
A few of the makeup artists snicker. Shea grins, mistaking their mockery for flattery. Doesn’t he know how to behave in public?
“He’s only joking,” I intervene. My smile is hard to hold. “Aren’t you, Shea?”
Shea opens his mouth to disagree, but Tyler shoots him a glare.
“Yeah, only joking,” Shea titters.
“When you’re finished clowning around, get into position,” Lindsay commands. She tilts her head, studying the four of us. “Yes, this will work.” Her forehead wrinkles as she turns to yell at the crew, “Props, props, props! Where are the props?!”
A flustered young guy hurries forward to hand Shea a cane.
“Really, Lindsay? A cane?” I arch an eyebrow. “Can’t we just take a few quick photos and get out of here?”
She clicks her tongue. “These are your official courting photographs, Kadence. Your father was very clear about what he wanted.”
Someone else gives Kyro a cap to wear. Admittedly, it does make his head look a little less like a thumbtack, but the whole thing feels ridiculous and over the top. We’re college students, not the cast of a period drama.
“More powder!” Lindsay points at Shea. “I can see a sheen.”
A makeup artist rushes to frantically dab Shea’s oily nose.
“How long will this take?” I ask.
My skin’s already crawling from Tyler’s clammy hand resting on my knee.
“We’re ready to start now,” Lindsay declares. “Now smile!”
All the cameras in the room start snapping in tandem, my vision swimming from the flashing assault.
We follow Lindsay’s instructions, moving from pose to pose, but nothing seems to satisfy her.
Shea and Kyro are the only people who seem to be enjoying themselves, gloating about how they look like movie stars.
Tyler, on the other hand, stays inhumanly stiff.
The more Lindsay tells him to loosen up, the tenser his shoulders get.
Two hours later, my ass is getting numb from sitting down for so long.
“No, nope, definitely not!” Lindsay’s glasses slip to the edge of her nose as she flicks through the photographs on a laptop. “Nothing is working.”
“You must have taken hundreds of shots by now.” I check the clock taunting me from up on the wall. “Surely one of them will do?”
“None of them have the magic we’re looking for.” She frowns. “There’s just no connection.” A knock on the door makes her face light up. “Finally! More props!”
I groan. “How many more props do we need?”
A delivery person staggers inside, swaying under the weight of a gigantic box that’s almost as large as him.
“Sorry for the delay.” His smooth voice comes from behind the package.
The timbre of his voice slices through the noise, making all the chaos fall away and my thighs clench. What’s wrong with me, and why is some random delivery guy making me want to throw myself at him from across the room?