“That was… brutal. Could that happen at my press conference?”
I placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t let it get to you. I’ve got your back.”
Although I didn’t have Joz’s back, did I? Not that there’s anything I could’ve done other than pre-approve the questions, and that wasn’t a strategy I liked or followed. Eight years, though, and that scum journalist thought it appropriate to bring up now.
“Thanks, Aspen.”
Presley looked at me like I’d hung the moon. Guess it wasn’t surprising considering I’d given him his big break. It was sweet, in a way.
“I know you’ve got my best interests at heart.”
“I do. And look, your press conference won’t be like that. Although, if you’ve got any skeletons, now’s the time to confess them.” I was pretty sure he didn’t. My team didn’t make mistakes, and he’d come back as clean as most young men would. A misdemeanor. Nothing more.
“No skeletons, although I did steal a bar of chocolate from the local off license when I was eleven. Oh, and a drunk and disorderly a few years ago. Just a guy being a guy in front of his friends, you know?” He shrugged.
“I knew about the D & D, but I think you got away with the chocolate bar.” I grinned. “I’d better go do some damage control. Adeline will take care of you. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
I took off toward the elevators—on the phone to my head of PR before the doors closed. “My office in five. We’ve got a story to bury.”
And if I had my way, a fucking journalist, too.
Chapter 10
Aspen
You can run, buddy. But you can’t hide.
The morningafter Joz’s disastrous press conference, I arrived at his hotel room at ten o’clock. I’d tried to call him several times the night before, but he hadn’t answered. In the end, I’d decided to let him lick his wounds in his own way.
My PR team had already kicked off damage control, and I had a meeting with Brian Gardiner, editor of Rock Legends, tomorrow. Signing Joz was a coup for my company and me, and I refused to let a fucking weasel of a British so-called journalist ruin my moment.
The manager of Kingcaid Midtown appeared crossing the lobby when I arrived. He spotted me and diverted from where he’d been going.
“Aspen, great to see you. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. I’m here to see a guest.”
“Mr. Raynor?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid he checked out last night. Around six o’clock.”
Goddammit, Joz.I should’ve guessed he’d do something rash. It had been obvious he wasn’t thinking straight after what that bastard journalist said.
I clapped a hand to my forehead. “Oh, heck. I’m such a doofus. I completely forgot he had to head back to England earlier than planned.” Keeping up the pretense, I laughed. “Too many plates spinning. One was bound to smash sooner or later.”
“As you’re here, can I offer you with some breakfast? Chef has the most delicious smoked salmon and eggs on the menu today. The salmon’s been flown in all the way from Scotland.”
“That’s good of you, but I’ve already eaten. Another time, maybe.”
I said goodbye and returned to my car, fizzing with annoyance. Would it have killed Joz to drop me a line letting me know his plans? I got that he was butt hurt, and rightfully so, but I wasn’t the enemy.
I called his number again and left a “Call me” message, then spent the next two days speaking to various news outlets and playing down Joz’s reaction to the loss of his former girlfriend. Fortunately, Brian Gardiner wasn’t a douche, unlike his employee. Turned out Gary Tomlinson was freelance, and Gardiner hadn’t been impressed with his tactics. Made sense why I didn’t know Tomlinson on sight. Apparently, he’d spent the first few years since graduating college working for local newspapers in the north of England and had only recently moved south in a bid to skyrocket his career. Instead, he’d burned it, and I had zero fucks to give.
With the story all but buried, and still with no word from Joz, I flew to London Thursday night, arriving on Friday morning. I was used to flying regularly, but five transatlantic flights in two weeks was a lot, even for me. My body clock had all but given up trying to figure out which time zone we were on.
After leaving my overnight case at the hotel, I caught a cab to Joz’s apartment. As I alighted onto the sidewalk, an overpowering stench rose from the Thames. I’d visited London enough times to have experienced the famous river’s unique smell, but this was ripe even for the Thames. It might be pretty, but it had a hell of a sting in the tail.
