Chapter 23 Finn #2
I appreciate Rosie coming to my defense, but I don’t need it, and I press on her fingers to let her know it’s okay.
Pia is right. Rosie’s world isn’t made for a man like me unless he’s providing the muscle.
I don’t want to be at the center of any celebrity storm, and anyway, this is her life and not mine.
Rosie’s spotlight would shine right through me, and I’m comfortable in the background, preferably in camouflage, because that’s where I belong.
“Pia says that when we’re ready, we can tell everyone we fell for each other while working together,” Rosie adds. “It’s not a lie, and it might not take long. But if you’re not on board with any of this, we can come up with another—”
“I’m on board,” I interrupt, determined not to make Rosie’s life harder than it already is. “Let’s do it.”
“Are you sure?”
I ignore Pia as I slip my hand around the nape of Rosie’s neck and press my forehead against hers. People watching us is something I need to get used to, and there’s no way I’m censoring the way I love Rosie when we’re behind closed doors.
“I don’t care what people on the outside think,” I say. “We know the truth, don’t we?”
Rosie answers with a relieved smile. “We do.”
“Excellent.” Pia’s voice is take-charge and impatient now that she’s been given the green light.
“Finn. I don’t think I need to brief you on the correct behavior and protocol for the person acting as Rosalie’s personal bodyguard, but just so we’re clear, you will need to keep your hands off each other. ”
“In public,” I mutter, Rosie’s lips too close to resist, and she smiles against my mouth as I kiss her.
“In public,” Pia agrees. “Keep up the charade for as long as you can and let me do some work in the background to build the best launching pad for you both, then we’ll revisit the plan when the time is right.”
“Sounds good,” Rosie replies, or that’s what it sounds like, mashed up and murmured between my lips.
Pia clears her throat. “There’s one more agenda item before I can leave you two alone,” she says, and I begrudgingly let Rosie pull away. “A personal assistant.”
Rosie slumps a little but nods her agreement. “I suppose I’ll need one of those eventually.”
“You will.” Pia hands over a thin stack of stapled documents.
“I’ve got three recommendations here, all vetted and with excellent references.
I’ll leave them with you, but…” Pia pauses, like she’s considering her words, then sighs.
“I thought you might also want to know that I’ve heard from your previous assistant. ”
“Lauren?” Rosie asks with surprise. “She contacted you too?”
I frown at this exchange of information. “What do you mean too? Has she been in touch with you as well?”
“Only about a dozen times.” Rosie sighs and rolls her eyes. “Emails begging for my forgiveness. I deleted them all.”
I glance at Rosie’s laptop. “Mind if I take a look?”
She pushes the device across the table toward me. “Ugh. I can’t believe she had the nerve to contact my publicist. What did she want from you?”
“Her job back, apparently,” Pia says. “According to my sources, her affair with Chip is over and she’s only now realizing that being fired by you for undisclosed reasons essentially blacklists her in all other areas of the business.
People talk. She can’t find employment and is desperate to repair her reputation.
I told her absolutely not, of course, and she won’t bother you any further, but I did want you to be aware that she and Chip are no longer involved and she’s suffering for it… if that’s any consolation.”
I retrieve the deleted emails and scan their contents as Rosie shakes her head.
“What a mess. I wouldn’t wish Chip on anyone, even Lauren, and if she hadn’t been so deceitful and manipulative and willing to walk over my limp body to get her own recording deal, I might even feel sorry for her, but I just never want to hear her name again.”
I’m taken by a cold chill at the picture Rosie paints before she adds, “Does that make me a bad person?”
“No,” I say at the same time as Pia, and we share a brief look of agreement while Rosie sighs and leans into me for support.
Pia slides a printed piece of paper across the table toward us, followed by an unopened box containing a new smartphone, and I set aside my email analysis to read what she’s offering.
“This is yours,” Pia says to Rosie. “I’ve sent you electronic information for your diary, but here’s a hard copy too.
I’ve packed a lot in to fast-track your return with the most important players.
It includes getting you in front of your fans and reminding them why they love you plus catching up on the commitments you missed while you were away, including a dress fitting for your guest appearance on The Night Show next week.
Marco is waiting for us at the house in Beverly Hills. ”
“Marco?” I ask.
“A designer,” Rosie says distractedly. “I wear his dresses to lots of high-profile events.”
She narrows her eyes at the paper as she scans the first page then flips to the second, then the third, and I read over her shoulder. Sessions with stylists. A meeting with her recording label. Private performances. Public appearances. She doesn’t have a spare minute for the next fourteen days.
I glance at Rosie’s expression to gauge her reaction.
Her teeth worry at her bottom lip, the only indication she might share my unease, otherwise she nods like it’s all to be expected, asking insightful questions about locations and logistics.
She’s competent and in control. Smart and sophisticated.
Gorgeous and capable and a force of nature, but a different version of the woman who spent the last three weeks on my ranch.