I nod. “Milo, what happened to Slayer last night? He never came back to the suite after the party.”
“You’re paid to be his girlfriend, not his warden,” he says carefully, not meeting my eyes. Milo’s talent for deflection reminds me how little I really know about Slayer’s world.
“You need to focus on this interview and the information you’re supposed to be conveying. Anyway, why should that matter to you?” he asks after a moment.
I decide I might as well be honest. “Haven’t you seen that I’m falling in love with him?”
He sighs. “Join the crowd, honey. Everyone wants him.”
“We had something good. We spent time together. I feel like he’s?—”
He takes my hand. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to fall in love with a rock star? Especially one like Slayer. He has secrets you know nothing about.”
“I know about the nasty divorce, the tabloid rumors. That’s why you hired me, remember?”
“Right. So let’s focus on your job,” Milo says as a woman in anelegant Chanel suit, very similar to mine, walks through the hotel doors. “She’s here. I’ll make introductions.”
Ten minutes later, I sit opposite Madame Mecure in one of the rooms the hotel reserves for business meetings.
She’s a nice-enough woman—the epitome of a polished European sophisticate. Her practiced smile and calculating eyes suggest a journalist who’s interviewed dozens like me, the temporary accessories of famous men.
“Your bio says you grew up on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I imagine you attended a private high school like the one in the TV showGossip Girl.”
I manage a laugh. “You got it.”
“Any drama for our readers?” she asks, leaning forward with a smile.
“Let’s focus on my relationship with Slayer,” I say, remembering the talking points Milo gave me.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Here I am, redirecting to a relationship that’s more fictional than the background they invented for me.
“Very well. What’s it like sleeping with the Dark Prince?”
I’m taken aback by the question. I meet Milo’s eyes, and he nods that I should answer. “Slayer is incredibly hot. I’d love to go into detail, but I know your publication wouldn’t print it. And I wouldn’t want my mother to read it.”
We both laugh—an easy escape from a difficult question.
“Well, I think I have enough material to write my article,” she says a little while later, tapping on her computer. “And now I need to rush to meet my deadline.”
She gets up as if to leave, but turns back to me. “One more thing. I heard you sing last night. You’re incredibly talented. Do you worry that you’re playing the supporting act in his spotlight?”
The question gives me pause. It’s the first genuine thing she’s asked.
“Slayer supports me in everything I do,” I say, wishing it weretrue. Wishing the man who laughed with me and seemed for a time to love me would reappear from beneath the Dark Prince facade.
“Good work,” Milo confirms when the journalist leaves the room.
“Thanks. I just wish?—"
Milo raises a hand and cuts me off. “Honey, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and a good voice in your lungs. Think about how that money you’re earning is going to help you achieve your dreams. That’s what I’d do.” With that, he turns and heads for the door. “I’ll see you later in Nimes.”
CHAPTER 46
BIX
