1
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CASSIE
Idrag my suitcase, heading to the arrival gate, noticing that some people in the airport are taking out their phones to snap pictures of me.
I can hear that some of them whisper about my new handbag made by my famous designer friend, who only made three of them available in the entire world—one was for me, and the other two belong to Miranda Kerr and Kate Middleton.
Sighing, I put on my shades to hide my eyebags.
I should have slept during the 14-hour flight from Barcelona to LA, but I just couldn't do it.
Not when I kept thinking about what I'd done the day before—how I slept with that famous Spanish football player in his hotel room.
Yes, he's hot, but it was a mistake, especially when the paparazzi spotted him walking me out to my car.Damn. That will cause another unnecessary uproar. I never thought that the trip to Barcelona, which was supposed to be a peaceful one, would cause another disaster.
That's Morgan's idea anyway—she insisted that I should attend one of the biggest fashion shows there to attract more attention since I'm currently not on tour and just finished wrapping up my next album.
Now that I think about it, I was supposed to be on holiday, but again, Morgan forced me to work.
By the way, Morgan is my manager, who is also my stepmother.
Based on the trending topic on Twitter yesterday, it turns out that my attendance in the fashion show gives more benefits to the designer than it does to myself.
I can't help it. I guess that it's the advantage people will get from me since I’m currently a superstar—a singer and songwriter whose songs are placed on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.
I never thought that I would reach this point at the age of 25, but I did sacrifice a lot for this.
My freedom. My friends.
And most importantly, my family.
My only family now is Morgan, because my mom died when she gave birth to me and my dad had a heart attack when I was 10.
Sadly, Morgan seems to not think of me as her daughter anymore.
"Is Morgan coming?" I ask Mike, my bodyguard, who's striding beside me. His big posture indeed scares people away, and it's really handy when there are reporters, paparazzi or crazy stalkers around.
"No," he answers shortly, blocking me from a woman who's recording a video of me.
I sigh. Maybe that's a good thing. I don't think that I'd survive if she scolded me during our entire ride back home from the airport. Since I didn't get enough sleep on the plane, all I want to do now is just relax. I just want to have a nice massage at home—calling my spa therapist will be the first thing I'll do once I get into the car.
"But she's waiting at your house," Mike adds. "In fact, the whole team is waiting for you there. There's an emergency meeting."
Now that startles me.
"What?" I blurt out but don't stop my steps; we keep walking to avoid people surrounding us.
An emergency meeting? For God's sake, can't they give me some time to rest?
Mike nods, sympathy crossing his expression. "Morgan texted me just now. I'm sorry, Cassie."
I shake my head in disbelief. Maybe the pictures of me andAlejandro outside his hotel have been on the news.
I don't know. I haven't turned on my phone again after landing here—I'm not in the mood to find countless messages from Morgan as they are always the same. Scolding me, pushing me to do better, telling me how I'm not good enough in her eyes, just like always.
Damn. Maybe I underestimated Alejandro's popularity. He's almost as famous as Cristiano Ronaldo, so the rumor must have traveled fast in Spain.
