Chapter 34
Ava
Fuck me, fuck my life.
Camera flashes explode the second I step out of Chase’s car.
Chase sticks close while security bulldozes a path through the crowd, one hand firm against my back as paparazzi swarm like caffeinated vultures.
Questions fire from every direction.
“Ava! Why are you leaving early for Iceland?”
“Did Harrison Evans assault charges get dropped?”
“Is it splitsville for you and your husband?”
“Is that why you’re with Chase?”
I nearly trip at that one.
The worst part about my life is that it’s an open book.
One the press loves to paw through and treat like their own personal litter box.
“I have a surprise,” Chase says, my little purple suitcase rolling behind him.
“Cyanide pills?”
“Something way more powerful than that.”
Before I can fully spiral, a goddess materializes beside the security barricade in heels sharp enough to kill and an Hermès bag stocked with emergency glam supplies, a black card, and don’t fuck with me mace.
Sienna Cartwright.
Exclusive manager of the Cartwright brothers.
Occasional destroyer of paparazzi assholes.
And godsend to me.
We’re rushed through a security checkpoint.
“There you are.” She pulls me into a quick hug holding me at arm’s length, eyes scanning my face with terrifying efficiency. “I don’t want you worrying about a single thing.”
She starts handing me items rapid-fire.
Green smoothie.
Leather passport holder with boarding pass.
Tiny luxury face spritz because apparently emotional devastation should still be moisturized.
Relief hits me so hard I almost cry again.
“Does this mean you’re officially taking me on as a client?” I ask weakly. “I know how you feel about mixing business and pleasure. And I’m pretty sure this disaster exceeds standard management fees.”
“As if I’d let you battle dragons alone.” She nods toward the security escort beside her. “Come on. I’m getting you somewhere quiet before your flight. Chase, you’re taking the other route with the luggage and distracting the paparazzi.”
“Ah yes,” Chase says solemnly. “My true calling. Human decoy.”
He leans down, kisses Sienna’s cheek, then smoothly swipes the aviators off the top of her head before she can stop him.
“Hey!”
“I believe these are mine.”
“Those are vintage Tom Fords, you thief.”
“Thief?” He laughs, then slides them on. “I think you mean victim of theft.”
He nods briskly. Then he’s gone, my suitcase rolling behind him as two security escorts hustle after him.
“He’s right. I did steal his glasses.” Sienna sighs wistfully. “I’ve stolen half his wardrobe at this point.”
A fresh wave of camera flashes erupts the second he hits the crowd.
God.
“Will he be alright?”
Sienna snorts softly. “Ava, my brother once accidentally stumbled into a riot outside a nightclub in Milan. Somehow, he left with three phone numbers and a modeling contract. He’ll survive.”
Point taken.
Behind us, camera flashes detonate again as Chase vanishes deeper into the crowd, security scrambling after him while reporters practically climb over each other trying to follow.
Before I can glance back again, Sienna gently hooks her arm through mine and guides me through the sliding glass doors.
“Eyes forward. We’re about to enter the rich people cocoon.”
“Speaking of rich people, I currently have the financial stability of a raccoon. My advance went to paying off my mom’s mortgage and—”
“I take ten percent,” Sienna says easily. “If you’re broke, I’m broke. If you make ten million dollars, mama gets a Porsche.”
I lean against her as she guides me straight into the lap of luxury.
God bless the wrong Cartwrights.
We move through a hidden alcove. Two glass doors open.
The noise dulls instantly.
It’s like I’ve been transported into another world.
Fragrant chilled air. Soft piano music. Marble floors polished within an inch of their lives.
“I may never want to leave.”
“Me neither.”
“Before Princess Luna, I’d be lucky if the studio sprang for pretzels on a flight.”
Sienna snorts. “I don’t mind saying it, girl, your last manager was a dumpster fire in Prada.”
“I’m aware.”
“She only got the job because Pierce came out of her vagina.”
I laugh out loud.
“Ava, sweetie.” Sienna looks me straight in the eyes. “I’ve been trying to poach you for three years.”
“We go out for drinks all the time. You always said you don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“I meant men who want to get in my pants. Not you. But you were already signed with Cruella de Vil. Speaking of which…”
She pulls out her phone. “Sign here. With your finger.”
I sign immediately. “So now you’re my manager.”
“And now, I own your soul.” She flashes a wicked grin. “Standard industry practice.”