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I look to my right and notice that my billionaire boss is a little apprehensive as well. Well, this doesn’t make me feel any better! The car pulls up to the red carpet. A door opens. Mr. Peak grabs my hand and says, “After you.” Oh my goodness. I step out to a flood of flashbulbs. I look around and see A list movie stars, fashionistas and some of New York’s most powerful citizens. None of the photographers are even interested in little ole me.
My boss steps out of the Maybach. All of a sudden, the wave of lights hits both of us. “Mr. Peak! Mr. Peak! Over here!” photographers scream. Some of them scream, “How much money did you throw out onto the street?! How much money did you recover?!” I look up at my boss who seems at a genuine loss for words.
Mr. Peak grabs my hand and leans down. “Get ready. Now it starts,” my boss says as he lifts up my chin. Mr. Peak kisses me on the mouth. There is a huge pause in the press line. All of a sudden, all the photographers aim their cameras directly at me.
“Who’s the girl?!” one of the photographers screams. Another photographer yells, “Is she famous?” Then another photographer answers, “She will be by tomorrow!” To which the entire press line laughs.
“Over here!” the photographers yell. Mr. Peak covertly nudges me forward. I make a few awkward steps towards the red carpet. One of the event handlers tells me to step on a little yell piece of tape in front of a wall withVanity Fair logos. TV cameras aim right at my body.
“Who are you wearing?” one of the journalists asks.
“Vera Wang,” I say nervously.
“How long have you been dating Ryan Peak?” another reporter asks.
I look at my boss who simply stands there deferring to me to answer. I think about what my boss would say. And then I think,what answer would get me the most press?
“Come on. Come on. How long have you been dating Ryan Peak?!” the reporter asks aggressively.
“None of your business,” I tell him.
An audible gasp rises from the press line. Then a hearty laughter.
“You just got owned by that girl!” One of the journalists taunts.
“So what’s your name, anyway?” another reporter asks me.
I take a deep breath and say, “Sarah Salamuri.” As soon as that answer leaves my lips, I imagine my name in lights. I imagine my name on the front page of magazines. I imagine my name everywhere!
Mr. Peak finally joins me. We stand there for a moment. And then something weird happens. Journalists continue to ask me questions. Photographers continue to scream my name. They don’t care about my famous and powerful billionaire boss. They care about me.
“Mr. Peak. Could you move away for one moment please?” one of the photographers asks. My boss awkwardly stands to the side. I am in f**king shock. That is the first time I have ever heard someone ask my boss to do anything. Of course, this is what Mr. Peak wants. But damn, this is just surreal. As soon as the camera bulbs flash, I strike my pose for the media. And for the first time in weeks, I completely forget all about Mr. Peak.
My boss finally grabs my hand and walks me to the party. A jolt of fear hits me. Did I displease my boss? I look up at him, hoping that I didn’t offend him. He whispers into my ear, “Boy, you are much more comfortable in front of the media than even I anticipated.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I say proudly.
Excellent. I have pleased my boss by deflecting the media attention away from him. Now all that attention is on me. The seduction has started. My head spins at the thought of all the press and subsequent fame that I’m going to receive. But a nagging thought starts to run through my head - am I seducing the press? Or is the press seducing me?
As we walk into the privileged air of the Met Gala, I hear the press screaming my name over and over again. “Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!
The Final Seduction(Book 3)
The limo is taking me to my first big photo shoot. Everything is happening so fast that I can not comprehend what is happening to me. It’s been less than a week since my official coming out party as Mr. Peak’s “girl.” Since then, there have been interviews and party invitations. But this is getting to be too much!
The limo stops in front of a contemporary building down in Soho. An as**sistant leads me inside. I am taken to the rooftop patio where I will be participating in a photo shoot with other women who are equally famous yet much more accomplished than myself.
The other women are all glamorous beyond words. I feel like I should be fetching someone coffee. I am escorted to a makeup and hair area where I will be made beautiful for the cameras. Gee, I hope they can work their magic on my ordinary features.
