‘Change of destination, Jac,’ said Mo.
‘No problem, Mr Maplestone.’ Jac tapped Rhona’s address into the GPS. ‘We should get there in about fifteen minutes.’
Mo wanted desperately to comfort Netta, but the failed hug the night before still stung. And if she’d felt uncomfortable then, she sure as hell wouldn’t want one now. Not after what had just happened.
Netta wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry about the gala. I know it was important to you and that I said I’d go. But I was wrong to think I could. Who was I kidding?’
‘There would’ve been a lot of photographers there too. The red carpet—’
‘I know. I was such an idiot to say yes. I just wanted so badly to be over it, but—’ She severed her sentence and took a deep breath. ‘But I can’t do it. This whole scene is like … like poison.’
Mo did his best to hide the crushing disappointment leaching through his body, wrapping itself around his bones and clawing at his heart. He should’ve known. This life of his—it just wasn’t for sharing.
Netta had closed her eyes, both arms wrapped around her body as though she thought she might disintegrate if she didn’t hold herself tight enough. He sat back in the seat and swallowed hard. He’d ruined her. He had no date for the gala tomorrow night. And he’d just wound up the paps. Again. What a fucking mess.
***
Rhona was waiting at the door when they arrived, her phone clasped in her hand. ‘Hello, you two,’ she said, bustling them inside.
‘I can’t do the gala anymore, Rhona,’ said Netta. ‘That, back there, was too much.’ Her tone was determined, but her face was apologetic, as though she thought she’d done something wrong. ‘I want to go home, like,now.’
Rhona wrapped Netta in a hug and gave Mo a pointed look over Netta’s shoulder. ‘Come on. Come into the office.’
They gathered around Rhona’s computer. She had a tab open for each of the major social media platforms, all of which were flooded with images of Mo and Netta battling their way from Valerie’s studio door to the car.
Rhona scrolled through the photos. ‘Well,’ she said, squinting as she examined each one, ‘you can’t see your face in any of them, Netta, so I don’t think the trolls will have much to work with, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
Netta’s relief was palpable. Her features relaxed and her shoulders dropped as she let out a hard exhale.
‘But,’ Rhona continued, ‘some of them don’t look so great for you, Mo.’
Mo tensed as he leaned in to look. In one of the images, it seemed as though he was pushing Netta. Another made it look like she was flinching away from him. And of course, they’d all managed to capture him flipping his middle finger. Headlines like MoMANHANDLES MYSTERY WOMANwere everywhere.
He blanched. ‘I wasn’t rough with you, was I, Netta?’
‘No! Not at all!’ Netta looked as horrified as Mo felt. ‘I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t freaked out, you wouldn’t have had to guide me to the car or touch me at all.’
Rhona clucked. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is nobody’s fault. And even if it was, it doesn’t matter now, anyway. All we can do is manage the damage.’
‘I’m glad your face isn’t visible in any of the photos, Netta,’ said Mo. ‘That’s one positive.’
‘I still want to go home.’
‘Are you sure, Netta?’ asked Rhona. ‘I’ve arranged for a fabulous hair and make-up artist and one of my favourite stylists is all set to come to the hotel with a whole heap of dresses for you to choose from.’
Netta shook her head. ‘I made a big mistake saying I’d go in the first place. I’m sorry, Rhona, I didn’t tell you the whole story when I came over for dinner. I thought I could just go to the gala and it would be some kind of closure or something, but I was wrong. I just want to get out of here.’
‘Closure?’ Rhona looked confused. ‘What do you mean? What “whole story” are you talking about?’ She looked from Netta to Mo and back again. ‘Is there something I need to know?’
Before Netta could respond, Rhona’s mobile rang. She frowned at the name on the screen. ‘Ergh. What does this parasite want?’ She swished out of the room to take the call in private, leaving Mo and Netta with the photos on the screen.
‘It really does look like I’m hurting you,’ said Mo. ‘Did I? Hurt you?’
Netta looked at him, her eyes watery but resolute. ‘No. You didn’t. If you hadn’t helped me to the car so quickly, I would’ve been frozen to the spot. But it’s made it so much worse foryou.’
Rhona swept back into the office. ‘That was Charlie Tunbridge fromUK Yeah.’ She directed two fingers to her mouth, miming a gag. ‘Their photographer got a photo that shows your face, Netta. And they know who you are.’ She turned her phone to show them the photo. ‘Love, why didn’t you tell me about the Mitch Carlton scandal?’
‘She told me,’ said Mo. ‘I knew about it.’
