“On my way.” She hitched her travel pack over her shoulder and dragged her suitcase over the carpet. “Is the hall clear?”
She nodded and Gemma scooted past her without a word, gathering all her steel and courage.
Instead of going down the main stairs and past the footman, she headed toward the south corner of the palace—she’d discovered the hidden stairs while on tour with the palace historian—then toward the gate she’d exited with the prince and Otis.
She cleared the door without seeing anyone else and ran, dodging raindrops as she hurried down the walkway, barely able to control her legs.
But the gate was locked with a keypad.Of course, it was locked. Gemma jerked on the wrought iron with a rush of tears. “Please, let me out!”
A buzz sounded and the lock released. Gemma pushed free with a glance over her shoulder to see a footman watching her go.
Making her way to the taxi stand, the rain picking up a bit, she dialed Matt. She didn’t care what time it was in L.A.
“You liar,” she said when he picked up. “I asked for one truthful thing, but no. One night was all I wanted. One beautiful night. Why did you do it? Release a video.”
“Let me guess, is this Gemma?”
“Like you didn’t expect this call. You told me you didn’t have the videos. Promised me.”
“I don’t. What is going on?”
“One of the Vegas show is online. I think it’s the one where I fell from the stage.”
“What do you mean, online?”
She gave him the hashtags to search, and after a moment he let out a long, weighty sigh.
“Gemma, I’m sorry, but I didn’t do this. Hold on.”
She arrived at the taxi stand, thankful to find a car waiting. “Airport, please.”
The driver helped her with her luggage, looking closely at her. Had he seen it too? When she crawled into the backseat, she sank down to hide her face.
Then she lost her battle with her tears. This was par for the course. Her life. Journey of a thousand bad decisions.
“You there?” Matt said.
“Yeah.” Gemma kept her voice low, close to the phone.
“The videos were uploaded by a kid named Clowney. His bio says he’s a movie buff, wannabe producer-director, works in the hotel industry. Am I still blocked? Can I send you a pic?”
“Send it.” When Matt’s text pinged in, she recognized the man at once. “Arnez.”
“You know him?”
“He was a porter at the Delafield Hotel. He said he’d seen me somewhere before, but I thought he was making it up. Flirting or something.”
“He must have found my site when I put the video online after the network lost interest.”
She wanted to hate Matt but at the moment, he was the only one who really understood. To her chagrin, he also sounded sorry and sympathetic.
“Why did I let you talk me into that stupid show? Why?” She fell over onto the seat. “I knew this day would come. Gemma Stone, this is your life.”
“If it’s any comfort, I didn’t want that show in the light of day either. I’m working with Jeremiah Gonda on a project and he is very selective. He’d never have hired me if he knew I was a part of something like that.”
“Showgirls, you said. We were supposed to be about showgirls.”
“I know but Sandy took it in a different direction and we went along.”
