EIGHTEEN
“I DON’T EVEN KNOW what to say,” Magnus said, failing to recognize that in itself was a statement.
He threw the newspaper onto the living room couch next to her.
“Wow,” she said, picking it up. “I didn’t know people still got these.”
“When your name’s in them, we have no choice. What were you two thinking last night?”
Roman was uncharacteristically quiet. Without a word, he strode the width of the front window back and forth, hands clasped behind him. Rich of him to think he could pass judgment on anyone.
“I don’t understand why it’s a problem.” Her intention wasn’t to aggravate the already inflamed tension, she just didn’t get it. “Yes, okay, maybe, from a human standpoint, a relationship standpoint, I wouldn’t want my intimate life splashed across the papers, but this started—”
“This started…” Roman declared, marching up behind Magnus, “because you two were horny fucks who couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and here we are again.”
“Why is that a problem?” she appealed to one man then the other. “Didn’t we fix that mess by telling the world we were getting married? So what’s the problem? In those pictures, we’re two soon-to-be-married people physically enjoying each other. What’s wrong with that? This isn’t the forties. Even if it was, the world knows by now we’re living in sin. I’ve been staying here since the story first broke.”
“How do we fix this?” Roman asked Magnus.
Was he listening to her at all? Was anything getting through? Did she even matter? It was a wonder. They’d waited for her to wake up before planting her in the middle of the couch and demanding an explanation.
After being caught in the throes of whatever they were doing, as a fully consenting adult couple, Struan excused them to the limo and finished what he started.
She yearned to ask him to join her in bed, but already felt brazen for being caught red-handed… rather red-faced and not in shame. Look at her. Yes, there were pictures, right there on the couch in newsprint, head back, eyes closed, body presented to the man on his knees worshiping.
In the newspaper. In goddamn print!
God, she dreaded to think what was online where censors wouldn’t have their way. How long had they been watched before the exclamation intruded?
“You’re taking her out tonight,” Magnus said, interrupting her chain of thought. “Dinner. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere we trust so we can manage the visuals.”
“The Making of… guys want to interview her.”
“Not today,” Magnus said in full control. “She stays here. You both should. We all should.”
“In shame?”
If the man pleasuring her was her actual, supposed fiancé she’d be ashamed all over the place. Not that it would ever happen, unless she was super drunk, mortifyingly inebriated, to the point it would be assault not consent. She shuddered at the thought.
Anyone should be embarrassed to be caught with Roman given the mess of his life. If he wasn’t so damn cocky, she’d say anyone taking advantage of him would border assault too. The guy was strung out all the time. Had to be if Struan kept stepping in to cover his ass. Maybe not on drugs, but Roman Lowe did not have his shit together, not even close.
“I’m going to set,” Roman said. “I’m not unreliable. I’m not letting the world think that I’m up to this kind of crazy shit.” Again. “I bet Struan’s already there.”
“Struan’s already where?” The voice of the man himself prompted her to grab the back of the couch to look over it just as he wandered upstairs from the kitchen. “You guys having a party without me?”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’m getting chewed out,” she admitted and slouched against the back of the couch as he came around it. “For being slutty.”
“Whoa, then I missed something, because you were sleeping alone when I checked in on you this morning.”
Oh, now that was hot.
Did he really creep in her room at night to check she was okay? That she was alone? Huh, it was hot until the question: why wouldn’t she be alone?
Did Struan worry his brother, or someone else, would sneak into her room at night? Good to know. Yep, she’d be locking the door from then on.
He dropped onto the couch next to her and scooped up the newspaper. “I didn’t know we still got these.” She stifled a laugh. “What’s the problem?”
Picture down, he discarded the paper. Not because he was ashamed of it, to protect her modesty while sitting in that room with that judgmental pair.
“He can’t be doing shit like this.” Roman marched closer, pointed finger at the floor. “This is not your fucking job.”
“It’s not like you were fighting me for it last night, or the night B and I met. You can’t decide when you want it and decide when you don’t, just pick her up and put her down as you see fit. If she agreed to marry you, you should be a stable force in her life, someone she can rely on, someone she can—”
“Fuck around with in public at parties?” Roman cut his brother off. “Great. We’ve already established her and me are going out tonight. Should I bring protection or are you on the pill, Sugarlips?”
Struan shot to his feet. “If you so much as think about—”
“Everyone calm down,” she said, standing more slowly, threading her fingers through Struan’s, hoping to ease tensions. His focus stayed on his brother. “We’ve upset the status quo.” Seeking answers in any of them was fruitless. “I admit I don’t understand why there’s a problem, but I don’t know this town. There’s obviously something I’m missing. If you need us to apologize—”
“No one is apologizing,” Struan declared, his fingers clamping deeper between hers. “Everyone at that place thought I was you, Ro, and she’s supposed to be engaged to you. What’s the problem?”
“I would never do that,” Roman snapped, pointing toward the inverted paper. “I would never—”
“Please the woman you’re supposed to love? Says a lot about you, brother.”
“Both of you put your tackle away,” Magnus said, finally finding a spot in the middle. Man couldn’t have got as far as he had with the brothers without being used to a little compromise. “It happened, and it’s in the press. No, nobody died. These are not the kind of party boy headlines we need right now.”
That’s what it was? Back in the throes of his hedonism days had he cheated on Sway? Had there been pictures and headlines and scandals falling left and right around the woman? Why would she put up with it?
Her sympathy for Struan was a given. It was automatic. She didn’t know how he kept it up. Always clearing up after his brother, but Sway? How did the woman manage to wake up to Roman every single day?
Roman was a nightmare, and as far as she knew, he was sober every time he was in her company. Imagine having to deal with him while he was on drugs, high, spaced out, erratic. She scoffed. More erratic. That was where the wariness came from: his volatility. The air vibrated around him like he was a guitar string wound too tight, on the cusp of snapping. And him, or someone, kept on turning the tuning pegs.
“Bambi’s staying at home today.”
“You’re benching her?” Struan’s outrage was flattering. “You can’t keep her locked up here like a prisoner.”
“Do you want her answering questions?” Magnus snapped. “Do you, Stru? Want the press taking her picture and banging on the limo windows? Screaming her name? Isn’t this why we brought her here? Why she agreed to be here? So we could protect her from that circus?”
Hmm, fuzz, guy had a point.
She swung her and Struan’s joined hands a little toward her ass. “I’ll be okay here,” she said. “If that’s the price for what happened last night, I’d pay it every minute, and you know it.”
His chin dropped, landing his eyes on hers. “So would I.”
“What the fuck is this?” Roman barked after they’d been gazing for goodness knew how long. “I say it and it’s a problem, he says it and it’s not?”
That was his grievance? Her agreement? Roman was the only man she’d ever met who’d be capable of starting an argument in an empty house.
“Then it’s settled. Ro’s going to work today and Struan will be needed.”
“Yeah, and there’s no reason for me not to be there.” No one knew he was the man in the pictures. “But we’re towing a ‘no comment’ line. Nothing gets said about the picture, the past, or the future, without Bambi’s agreement.”
It hadn’t occurred to her they could say what they wanted while she was locked up in the palace walls.
“The break gives you a chance to look through some of the requests. Decide if there’s anything that’s safe to do. It won’t be now, but maybe when things have settled…” These interviews again? Appearance requests? She just nodded. “Mieux will come over with everything you’ll need. If you want to write up any statements or comments, she’ll pass them on to us for approval.”
Somehow that last word implied, while Roman’s side sought to approve whatever was coming from her proverbial mouth, in return, she’d only get consultation. Forewarned before they threw any grenades. Did that mean she needed to be forearmed? Her arsenal wasn’t exactly packed with options.
This would have to end sometime, and her exit strategy…? Nonexistent. The reason for that was at her side. Of its own accord her body relaxed against his, just a little.
“Exit” suggested away from Struan. That was not somewhere she wanted to be.
“Chic will let you know if there are wardrobe changes.”
Because whatever was supposed to be on the calendar would now be canceled or rescheduled? Surely one outfit was as good as the next for a social occasion. They wouldn’t be going to a pool or a costume party. Though with this being LA, she wouldn’t bet anything on that assumption.
Struan would go to work, Roman and Magnus too. At this rate, all she was good for was going back to bed. She’d only just got up and ready for the day, and already she was eager for it to be over.
Oh no, wait, she took that back. The ultimate punishment would come before bedtime. An intimate evening with Roman Lowe, smiling nice for the cameras, just what would that entail exactly?