“Next.” I bite down on a smile like the world’s biggest dork.
That smile comes crashing down when we round the corner to my place and see a swarm of photographers waiting at the front entrance to the building. There must be about a dozen or so, all poised and waiting to shout questions and take an incessant amount of pictures.
A pit forms in my stomach as I stare out at them.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” Roman growls.
My mind races. “Would Janine give them... my address?” It feels like such a violation.
“She’s not the brightest, but she’s been in the industry long enough to know never to do something that stupid.” His eyes are murderous.
The pit in my stomach deepens as I look up toward the window of my apartment.
“Roman...” I squeak out. I’m reluctant to say it, but something in my gut tells me I know exactly who leaked my address. It’s someone who knows it like the back of their own hand. My mind flashes back to a few days ago and the scratch on Maren’s arm. Smokey had seemed agitated that day when Icame home, and my perfume bottle was on the floor... and I know she readsTroisToi. I’ve seen the tab open on her computer. “It might be Maren,” I whisper.
Not knowing what else to do, I reach for the back seat where my bag is. Before I get it, Roman’s hand darts out to grip mine.
“You’re not bringing that inside,” he says.
“But I need my things, I can’t stay at my place without my–”
“You won’t be staying at your place. Not if she’s there.” His eyes are narrowed, and he grips my hand a little tighter than he means to.
Sneaking in through the entrance near the dumpsters, I can feel Roman’s anger. It rolls off him in waves as we ride the elevator. When we get to the apartment door, he takes the keys from me and flings the door open. Maren’s sitting on the couch, filing her nails.
“Grab your things, I’ll meet you in your room.” He stares down at Maren, and suddenly I almost feel sorry for her.
I open my door to find Smokey looking tired and dejected at the end of my bed. She immediately perks up when she notices me enter the room.
“Smokes,” I coo as she meanders over to me for some affection. As I pet her, I hear raised voices coming from the living room.
Chapter Forty-Seven
ROMAN
“Have you been leaking information to the press?” I don’t bother to greet the nasty roommate. She doesn’t deserve it.
Her expression slowly shifts, eyes welling up and her lip quivering in a well-rehearsed move.For fuck’s sake. Actresses.
“Cut the theatrics,” I cross my arms and look down at her. “You know who has the right to actually be upset? Clover. You told them where she lives? That’s a huge violation, and that puts her at risk. Pictures showing the building hit the internet, and then what? People can figure out where she lives and show up here.”
Understanding dawns on the roommate’s face as my words sink in. “I didn’t think that–”
“Correct, you didn’t think.” With that, I head after Clover into her room, knowing anything else I say will be downright dickish.
When I get there, I close the door forcefully behind me. Clover is sitting on the bed with Smokey wrapped in a reluctant cuddle. The cat’s orange eyes are half closed with contentment.
Clover hasn’t made a move to gather any of her things, so I rummage.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing up your things.” I toss a few shirts out of her dresser and into the bag for emphasis.
“Where am I supposed to go? It’s fine, I’m sure I can go in and out the back door.”
I scrub my hand down my face. Only a Hollywood rookie would think that’s a feasible option. “Absolutely not. It’s a safety issue and that’s something I don’t fuck around with.” Reaching down, I grab Smokey’s bed and tuck it under my arm. “Grab your stuff, we’re going.”
“Roman, I’m not booking a hotel.” Her eyes are wide.
