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"Correct."
Her scowl deepens. She goes back to playing with her phone for a few minutes, then grips the device so hard the skin stretches white across her knuckles.
"I don’t have access to my emails, or the internet, nor to the phone numbers of any of my vendors."
"You get a ten out of ten." I smirk.
She jumps to her feet, raises her hand as if to throw her phone at me, then thinks the better of it. "But my mother was able to reach me."
"As will your close friends and family. Their numbers have not been blocked."
"What?" She glances at her phone, then back at me. "How did you do that? I had the phone with me all this time."
I tilt my head. She holds my gaze then her jaw hardens. "I see, you don’t need to physically access my phone to fiddle around with it."
"You’re acing all the tests today, LadyBird."
Her features flush, and her eyes spark. "This is all wrong. What you’re doing is illegal."
"Not when it relates to the mental health of my fiancée."
"Fake fiancée," she snaps.
"Real fiancéein the minds of all those who saw the video we posted."
Her shoulders snap back. "I demand to be able to access the internet and all of my social media platforms. I need to see what’s happening. I need to be on top of things."
"There are people who’ll do that for you. Once we’ve turned the corner of this media storm, I promise, you’ll get access to everything again."
"And when will we turn the tide of this… this media disaster?"
"It’s not a disaster."Not if I have anything to do with it.
"It has all the makings of a disaster of such proportions, I won’t be able to fix anything, even with seven generations of schmoozing."
I chuckle. "You have a vivid imagination; I’ll give you that."
"Turn this jet around. Right now," she cries.
"Sorry, babe, not happening. You may as well strap in and enjoy the ride."
"Argh!" She makes a noise at the back of her throat, then pivots and stalks away in the direction of the restroom. I almost rise to my feet to follow her, but then sink back down. Best to give her a little time to cool off.
Besides, she’s right. No doubt, the social media feeds have gone crazy since the last post. It doesn’t bother me one bit, but clearly, she’s taking it more personally than I am. It’s the nature of the beast though; that’s how media cycles work. We’ll be the hot news of the moment, until the next big thing comes along, and then they’ll move on. I’m aware it’s more difficult for her to look at it dispassionately. And she’s right—chances are, they’ll paint her in a worse light than me. I need to do something about it… Without it being obvious that I’m the person behind it, of course. Something to manage this flurry of publicity so things don’t get out of hand. I pull out my device and dial a familiar number.
"Hello?" Karina Beauchamp comes on the line. She owns a security agency and is married to one of the Seven—which means, she’s trustworthy. Also, her brother is the head of the Bratva, so she won’t bat an eye when I tell her about my intentions.
"I need your help."
14
Isla
"You’re where?" Zara screeches.
Her eyes are so big I’m sure they’re going to fall out of their sockets.
"Shh!" I glance toward the door of the restroom where I’ve locked myself in. The bathrooms on private airplanes are big enough to rival my bedroom in my apartment. "Told you, I’m on the alphahole— I mean, the asshole’s private jet."
