Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “For fuck’s sake.”
“That’s what I said,” she says. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” It’s my turn now, confused by this whole thing and pissed off that this shit is going around.
“Well, you see, I know you’re an asshole,” she says. I want to laugh at her bluntness, but I don’t. “But I don’t think you’d be that much of an asshole to not claim your own kid.”
“You’re damn fucking straight,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. If I had a kid out there, there is no way I would deny them.
“Exactly, so when this ‘source’ came to me, I found it fishy. I also found the timing of this story fishy,” she says. “Anyway, I ignored her once, twice, and then the third time, I squashed the story.”
“Thank you.” Not sure why I’m thanking her, but I just feel the need to say it.
“Don’t thank me.” Shaking her head again, she says, “It was a shit story, and nothing could be verified. I knew right away the story came from someone on the inside. The question is why did someone from your camp try to fuck me over?”
I shake my head now. “Impossible. Everyone who is with me is loyal to a T.”
Smirking, she shakes her head. “If you say so, but I’d double check.”
“I will.” Ready to storm out, I grab the door handle, open the door, and then walk out, but then turn back. “What’s this going to cost me?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll let you know when I’m cashing it in.” I nod to her and leave the room before I do or say something stupid. Like rip that bun off the top of her head and fist her hair while I see if her lip gloss tastes like cherries. I press the button to the elevator one time, two, three, and don’t stop pressing it till I hear the ding. I go to grab my phone. “Fuck,” I hiss when I realize Cassie has it. I make my way up to my suite, scanning the card and walking in. Cassie sits at the table with her computer open, her eyes coming to me when she hears me.
“We have a problem,” I say, tossing my card down on the table and going to grab a bottle of water. I look at Cassie who leans back in her chair, waiting for me to tell her something. “Someone tried to leak a false story.” Walking to the window, I look out at the skyline. The sun shines in the sky, making the buildings glisten like diamonds.
“What do you mean?” she asks me. I turn to see that she is sitting up straight with her hands on the table in front of her.
“Called in a fake story about me having a kid,” I say, looking back out again. “They called Jessica directly two days ago.”
“And she didn’t run the story?” She pffts. “I call bullshit. She’s playing you.”
I bite down so hard on my teeth, I’m surprised they don’t shatter. “What fucking reason would she have to play me?” I hiss. “The fact is, someone called her with a bullshit story. I believe the question is who leaked it.”
“Does it even matter?” Cassie asks. “They called, but she knew it was a lie and didn’t run the story.”
“It matters because if you’re on my team, I have to trust you, and if I can’t trust you”—I shake my head—“then you have to go.”
Cassie takes a big breath. “Fine. I’ll ask around, put out some fake stories and see if they get leaked. What else did she say?”
I look at her while I say what needs to happen. “She said she’d stay, but she had a request.” Cassie’s eyes narrow, and the glare comes out. “You aren’t allowed in the room when she interviews me.” And the glare gets stronger. “Actually, unless it has to do with the tour, you aren’t allowed to talk to her.”
“Bullshit,” Cassie says, getting up and seeing that I’m not saying anything. Usually, I would be on her side, but she crossed the line for no reason. She must feel this isn’t a fight she will win because she just throws her hands up. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I need my phone. I have to call my parents and check in.” She grabs her purse and looks inside, fishing the phone out. “What time do I have to be ready?” I ask, grabbing the phone and seeing that I have a couple of missed calls.
“Six thirty,” Cassie says. Getting up, she slaps her computer closed and turns to walk out of the room. “I’ll be here at six twenty-five. Your suit is hanging in your closet, and you’re walking the red carpet with Jonathan tonight.”
“Thanks,” I tell her and open my emails and see that two came in. Both have been read already, and I double read them. I also call my mother, and she goes on and on about the glam day that Cassie told her about. I have enough time to sit for ten minutes before it’s time for me to get ready. I’m shrugging on my suit jacket when I hear the front door open. I make sure my three-piece gray suit is put on right, then walk out and see Cassie is dressed in a gray and black dress with black heels.