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I flexed my free hand into a fist to keep from breaking anything.
“We were talking about Cynthia here.”
“Look, I’m not interested in talking about that when there’s a hotter story out there. You have insider knowledge. Hell, you’re banging Davenport—”
I disconnected the call, dropping my head in my hands. Reid’s statement had come out last week, and it had been a never-ending shit-show ever since. My name was in the clear, but despite my best efforts, doing my job was becoming harder. My clients didn’t particularly care about my involvement with Reid, but the media outlets I was contacting on behalf of my clients did.
This was the fifth call today that had veered off course. I couldn’t go on like this. My clients counted on me to put out fires for them, and right now, it seemed I was just adding gasoline on top of everything.
A knock at my door jolted me out of my thoughts.
“Cameron, hi.”
“How is it going?”
I tried to smile, and failed. “Not well, honestly. I can’t do right by my clients, and it’s pissing me off.”
“Do you want Angela to do some of those calls on your behalf?”
I picked up a pen, playing with it between my fingers. My heart was beating wildly. If I accepted Angela’s help, it would mean admitting I couldn’t do my job well. But ultimately, I had to put my clients’ interest first.
“Yes, I think that for the next couple of days, it would be best. Just with the calls. Emails are okay, I can just ignore any random questions, but on the phone, I end up wasting so much time.”
“I’ll talk to her.” Cameron seemed to want to say something more but then just shook his head, leaving my office. A ball of fear lodged in my stomach.
Things will calm down eventually, I told myself. They always do.
I laid my forehead on my desk for a few beats, giving myself a few seconds to gather my thoughts, then straightened up and spun around once in my chair.
I was determined to kick ass for the rest of the day, not let anything ruin my mood. As proof that mental pep talks were effective, the next few hours were much more productive—especially once Angela took over my phone calls.
By the time I left the agency, I was actually whistling. Yes, whistling!
I was attending the launch event of a local designer, and then my sexy man and I were going to Friday dinner.
He’d passed the last one with flying colors—though I had the nagging suspicion that Jace and Will were feeling too sorry for the both of us what with the whole picture debacle to grill Reid properly.
Time would tell.
Even though the launch event was technically a work duty—Carlo, the designer, had been my client last year—I was determined to have a good time.
Once I was home, I changed quickly into a short orange cocktail dress. I twirled in the mirror, admiring my outfit. I was a total knockout.
I took a picture of myself and sent it to Val. Reid was going to jump my bones when he picked me up, and I wasn’t going to put up a fight. I slipped on my heels, twirled some more, and then ordered an Uber.
“You’ve done a fabulous job,” I congratulated Carlo after touring the venue. He’d chosen a different setup from the typical runway show. He had mannequins set out throughout the room—a sure-fire way to keep costs low.
“I think so too. This is my best collection yet. I need to make the rounds. Let me know if you want to buy anything. I’ll give you a friends’ discount. Fifteen percent.”
“Ah, you really shouldn’t have offered that.” I waggled my eyebrows. “I want to buy half the collection.”
“Go ahead. Just tell me what catches your eye.”
Oh, Carlo, Carlo.
I immediately found my way back to my favorite item: a floor-length red organza dress with asymmetrical shoulders.
I was running a list of pros (I’d look like Grace of Monaco) and cons (it was absolutely not in my budget) when Marion approached me. I’d noticed her earlier among the guests, but decided to pretend I hadn’t.
