TWENTY-NINE
ON MONDAY, Mieux had work to do at Brooker, so they spent the day at the agency, possibly to give them a breather from the UO set. Her a breather. It hadn’t been put like that, but after what happened on Friday, distance wouldn’t be a bad thing. Mieux was a helluva considerate. Roman flipping out may be on him, that wouldn’t stop the crew avoiding or judging her though. At Brooker, she didn’t have to face animosity.
Mieux closed her laptop. “Okay, we have to go.”
She lifted her heavy head from the heel of her hand. “Go where?”
The club again? All day she’d been dragging. Partying at Crimson on Saturday night was a great idea at the time. Not necessarily so great that she wanted to be out all night on a weekday and carry a hangover to work.
“Chic is waiting at the house.”
“Waiting at the house? What house?” Dumb question. “For what?” she asked, forced to stand when Mieux pulled out her chair. “I’m wearing the designated outfits.”
Okay, so, that was a lie. Saturday night was someone else’s clothes. That day, she wore Roxie’s. Given she’d woken up in the woman’s house, already late, they hadn’t had time for modesty. She’d only just got dressed before Mieux arrived at the front door with the car.
“Where are we going, Mieux?” The assistant piled up their things, slipping some into a satchel while holding her usual binder, tablet, and cellphone in one hand. “Is it Crimson again? Is Roxie outside?”
“Roxie wouldn’t wait outside.” Thinking of the woman put a smile on everyone’s face. Everyone but Roman’s anyway. “Haven’t you figured out Roxanna Kyst doesn’t wait for permission by now?”
“She doesn’t have clearance for Brooker’s.”
“She’s Roxie Kyst, Bambi. In this town, a name means everything. Roxie’s famous and hot right now.”
“With her stream?”
“And the documentary. There’s also talk of bigger and better things coming along.”
“Bigger and better? What does that mean?”
They went outside and got into a car. Mieux was talented. She hadn’t wanted to go anywhere and asked questions. Yet without ever raising her voice or being forceful, Mieux got her to do exactly what she wanted.
“Have you heard from Roxie today?”
“You can call Roxie anytime you want. Be prepared for Astrid or one of the other assistants to answer.”
“Because she never charges her phone?”
“Yes, Zairn has her line diverted to others in case of emergency. Not that if anyone had an emergency they would call Roxie. She’s a wonderful woman to have around when things are tough. Answering her cellphone though… that’s hit and miss.”
“Do you have Tripp’s number?”
Mieux’s chin rose an inch, her eyes narrowing. “I can give you Tripp’s number. I don’t think Roman will like it.”
“Roman already thinks Tripp is sleeping with Sway.”
“Yeah, so how do you think you’ll feel about his current fiancée calling him up too? If you want to speak to Roxie, call, someone will pick up. Maybe. But you won’t have time for Crimson tonight. And Roxie’s not Roman’s biggest fan, so it might not be an idea to take him to the club without, you know, explicit permission. Without him, within earshot, because no offence, but if your fiancé hears no, he’ll only want to go even more. And that puts the Lomonds in an awkward position.”
Uh huh, because Struan was allowed in and there had been talk of Roxie being friends with the younger Lowe brother: Logan. Could they refuse Roman without causing a scandal? Geez, everything around that guy was a scandal.
“I’m still unclear as to where we’re actually going or what we’re doing,” she said, aware of the woman’s haste and intent.
They weren’t just finished for the day and going home, if Chic was waiting at the house, something specific was on the agenda.
“There’s an event tonight, a movie premiere.”
Glam and enticing to many, yet she remained wary.
“A premiere? And you’re going to this premiere?” The question was sort of facetious, not sort of, okay, it was kind of rude, though she now understood the woman’s reticence. “Roman wants to go?”
The apology written in Mieux’s expression was sympathetic. She really did have a way of knowing things.
Could the brothers switch out? That really shouldn’t be her first thought.
“So I’m going home to get prettied up?”
To smile and spend the night on the arm of a man who wanted to throttle her.
“Red carpet,” Mieux said, “cameras.”
Okay, so she was a little grateful for the prettied up part, if her face was going to be plastered all over the place… again. Better that it match Roman’s magnificence than be captioned, “commoner after a day at the office.” All she could hope was the cameras wouldn’t capture her reluctance, or the aversion to her fiancé that vibrated her every atom.
No negativity. Be positive.
Roman was her fiancé. She’d sell it. For Struan. The wonderful, incredible man she’d been bathed in for two nights and a day. Not long enough. She’d picture him. Imagine he was with her instead of his brother, if she could. One was a poor substitute for the other, and she wasn’t looking at the scandalmonger.