Chapter 23 Finn
twenty-three
Finn
The moment I step onto Rosie’s private jet is the moment I realize I’ve underestimated the differences between her world and mine.
I’m not talking the miles it takes to move between Silver Leaf and Los Angeles.
I’m talking her forty-million-dollar personal aircraft with cream-colored leather seats and timber-topped work desks, fluffy white carpets and fully equipped kitchen, comfortable bedroom and full bathroom.
It’s bigger than my entire bungalow, and someone has filled the white ceramic vases with meticulously designed floral arrangements.
I think about the handfuls of wildflowers I picked to brighten up Rosie’s time with me, stuffing them in old mason jars and plonking them wherever I found a bare shelf or windowsill.
The comparison is laughable, so it’s a good thing I believe money is a joke.
It’s impressive, sure, but I don’t see this kind of wealth and want it for myself.
All I’m thinking is how damn proud I am of the woman who built this from nothing.
How the hell did I get lucky enough that she looked at me twice?
The flight from San Francisco to Los Angeles takes over an hour and we’re not alone.
Two pilots and two cabin attendants make up the flight crew, and Rosie’s new publicist is with us as well.
With half the flight still to go, Rosie has her head together with Pia, a thirty-something woman with deep auburn hair worn in a slick bun at the nape of her neck.
I’m at the other end of the jet, laptop on my knees, filing away the latest social media comments from mistr_ess_el.
He’s as active as ever, popping up on every post, liking every comment, making creepy promises that he’ll be with Rosie soon.
It makes my reason for being here defendable, giving me a clear and compelling purpose to underpin the fact that Rosie and I belong together.
That motherfucker should be behind bars, and I’m not going to rest until he is.
I add his most recent social media activity to the folder on my desktop before I send the links through to Drew via email.
Any luck on tracking this guy’s location?
Not expecting an answer straightaway, I snap my laptop closed and glance toward Rosie.
She’s reading something from Pia’s lit-up tablet, and without my own device to distract me, my mind strays to Silver Leaf and what Rosie and I left behind.
Mom and Dad’s old cabin, locked up and empty again after I spent a year trying to restore it.
The new flagstone path to the river that’ll be worn by weather before it feels the fall of new feet.
My family, farewelled with hurried goodbyes and well wishes yesterday afternoon.
And Dakota, temporarily fostered by Charles at the main house, until Rosie and I are settled and can bring her back to live with us.
A sharp pang of guilt grabs me beneath the ribs, and I reach for my phone to send a text to Charles.
Me
How is she?
My phone pings almost immediately. My sister knows who I mean without having to ask, and she responds with a picture of Dakota asleep in Charles’s office, her old bed set up in one corner and her bowls filled with water and kibble.
Charles
She’s good. How are you?
I tap out my reply.
Me
Call you later.
I lock my phone screen and set it face down next to my untouched flute of champagne.
I can’t lie to my sister. I want to say everything’s fine, because it is fine.
It’s fucking unbelievable. I’m with Rosie, which is everything I want in the world, and who cares where we are as long as we’re together, but there’s tension in my stomach that won’t budge.
The problem is going back to LA when there’s an active threat to her safety. I can’t relax until it’s neutralized.
“Finn?” Rosie calls from the other side of the plane, but by the time I’ve raised my head off the leather recliner, she’s already padding over on her bare feet and leaning in to drop a sweet kiss on my mouth. “Are you busy?”
“Nope.” I bound to my feet, thankful for something to do. “What do you need?”
Rosie’s smile is amused, and she takes my hand as she rolls her head toward her workstation. “Pia wants to talk to you.”
“Ah.” I rub the back of my neck. “Sure.”
I drop into the chair next to Rosie’s, Pia opposite and giving me a look I can only describe as professionally wary. Rosie doesn’t let go of my hand, and I pull our twisted fingers onto my lap.
“So.” Pia sets her clasped hands on the desk and gives me a perfunctory kind of smile. “Rosalie tells me you two are in a relationship?”
Rosie and I haven’t had a conversation that would make it official, but we don’t need to.
We know what we are. I meet Pia’s inquisitive look with the kind that lets her know I might not be interested in all the bullshit trappings of celebrity life, but I am interested in Rosie.
She could declare that the ocean was made of lemonade, and I’d fight anyone who said differently.
“We are,” I confirm.
Pia nods, not easily ruffled, and that’s got to be a good thing for a woman in her line of work.
“We need to talk about how to handle this in the press. The most recent public statement made about the status of Rosalie’s personal life was released by Chip Daniels, and it didn’t paint her in a particularly positive light. ”
“He accused her of cheating,” I say. “And implied that he left her after discovering her infidelity.”
Rosie shifts on her chair, and I brush my thumb over the back of her hand to soothe her.
“Correct.” Pia’s focus switches from me to Rosie, then back again.
“The challenge we face is timing. If you go public with your relationship now, so soon after the last-minute cancelation of the wedding, the optics won’t work in our favor.
The speed of your attachment will appear to confirm the cheating rumors, and that’ll fly in the face of the statement we’ll make denying any of it was true. ”
I turn to Rosie. “You’re putting out a statement?”
“It’s one option,” Rosie says. “And releasing an official statement makes it easier to refuse further questioning from the press and the public.”
“Will it expose Chip and the way he treated you?”
Rosie meets my stare with blankness, and I know the answer before she says it. “No.”
Ignoring the weight of Pia’s analytical gaze, I speak directly to Rosie. “Are you sure that’s the right way to manage this? It’ll mean Chip gets out of it easier than he deserves. He lied about you. He’s an asshole and everyone should know it.”
Rosie cups my face with one soft hand. “You’re right, and he is, but there’s no use fighting him in the court of public opinion.
There’ll always be people who don’t believe my version of events, and he’ll always have another trick up his sleeve.
I’ve got no desire to waste time down in the mud beside him, and I won’t give him an ounce more of me than he’s already taken. ”
The injustice of Rosie’s situation infuriates me, but I’m so impressed by her strength that I moderate my tone and nod like I understand why it has to be this way. “I get it.”
Pia clears her throat. “It might help you to know that inside the business, most people know Chip’s a…”
She grimaces, her public relations training perhaps clashing with an honest assessment, and I offer a word to help her out. “Dick?”
Her mouth twitches. “His reputation undermined his smear campaign against Rosalie, at least among industry players, but the fact is he makes a lot of people a lot of money, and that’s all that a lot of people care about.
Plus, you know. He’s a rich and powerful man, and that makes those same people willfully ignorant of a wide variety of bad behavior.
It’s not right, but here and now, even with the resources I have at my fingertips, there’s not a lot I can do to change it.
What I can do—and what I care about most—is protecting Rosalie.
Her reputation. Her brand. Her business. And, if I can help it, her sanity.”
I consider Pia again, seeing her in a new light. She’s getting paid to care, I get that, but something about the rising ferocity in her voice makes me think Rosie made the right choice adding this woman to her team.
“Pia wants us to wait to make any announcements about us,” Rosie adds.
She leans against me, arm pressing on mine, fingers curling tighter in my hand.
“Just until the dust settles on the breakup. Once the celebrity news cycle has something more scandalous to talk about, it’ll be easier for us to make our public debut. ”
“I’m not interested in staying locked up inside while Rosie’s moving about in the world,” I say to Pia. “I don’t need to be in the spotlight—in fact, I’d prefer not to be—but I do need to be close by.”
“Pia has an idea,” Rosie says, but her hesitancy puts me on guard. Pia might know her stuff, but at the end of the day, I’ll do what Rosie wants me to do, not her publicist.
“What is it?”
“Continue to operate as Rosie’s personal bodyguard,” Pia says.
“We’ll hide you in plain sight. It’ll give you a valid reason to be by Rosalie’s side, and nobody will blink twice when they see you in pictures, if they notice you at all.
If anyone, Chip included, accuses you of being anything more, we’ve got the receipts to back up our story.
You’re ex-military. You’ve been on Rosie’s security team before, and you’ve got no other employment, skills, or commitments that might catch us in a lie. ”
“Finn’s family owns a ranch and vineyard in Sonoma Valley,” Rosie protests. “He has a beautiful fur baby and he’s a gifted artist. I explained all this already.”