And in saying that, Collier wasn’t the only family she should fear being pictured with.
She stepped aside.“Do you want to come in?”
“Before someone sees me?”Roxie asked, complying.“I have incredible stealth mode.No one followed me.”
After closing the door, she went back to her mound of packing.“No offense, but I find that hard to believe.When they want to get you, they get you.”
“It’s the men,” Roxie said, sauntering to her almost fireplace.It didn’t actually have a fire, but, yeah, it was supposed to be the focal point.“Going anywhere with Z is like walking with our own Mardi Gras parade.He comes with cars and security and… well, a circus.Cam’s not like that.He walked away so long ago and lives such a boring life, the press gave up.He never does anything interesting.He works and works and… works.”
She didn’t have to be told how seriously he took his work.Roxie probably knew that, the woman was trying to make her feel better.To mend something, maybe.It wasn’t broken.She’d seen his life, or thought she had, until the truth of his family spilled into his living room.
“This isn’t his fault.And what you saw this morning was… Last night was a party and, you know, tension and there was residual… energy…”
“You don’t trust him?”
“I wasn’t doing that great in Boston anyway, a fresh start is overdue.”
“How many of those have you had?”
She couldn’t get into this.If she wasn’t talking to Cam about it, she sure couldn’t be talking to Roxanna Kyst-Lomond.Shit, it was almost unbelievable.A woman like this, part of such a sprawling, high-profile network, was right there in her crappy studio apartment.
It wasn’t crappy, she’d made something of the place, separated out the rooms with bookcases and furniture.It was her sanctuary.And now she was fleeing.It was fine, she hadn’t connected.Home was an abstract idea, had been for a long time.
The next knock on the door brought her around in her crouch.Had to be the landlord this time.Roxie was closer, damn, she surged up but Roxie was already there opening the—oh good God, was that Zairn Lomond on her threshold?
Roxie cocked a hip.“Hello, strange, random man I didn’t call.”
“No need.I anticipate you, LoLo.”
“I called Astrid for—” He raised a large tote hanging on his index finger.“Ah, are we role playing, Errand Boy?I love it when we improvise.One note?Try it with less clothes next time.At least lose the shirt.”
His attention rose over his wife’s head as he removed his sunglasses.“Ariella, grab anything sentimental,” Zairn said, entering as Roxie raked through her bag and closed the door behind him.“And anything particularly fragile.”
“What?I—”
“Everything else will be packed and brought to you.”
“Brought to me?No.I have to speak to my landlord and—”
“That’ll be taken care of.”
“I’m still in lease—”
“We’ll compensate your landlord,” he said, hooking the temple of his glasses into his shirt.
“I didn’t ask for—I know the Colliers have money, I didn’t—”
“This isn’t Collier money,” he said and turned just enough to look at Roxie.“I work for her.”
The woman—who apparently hadn’t called her husband—came to them, hand full of… hair.Were those wigs?Blonde, brunette, tangled between different colored sunglasses.What the hell?
“Perfect.So perfect it’s almost like Jane packed it.Astrid is pure gold.”Roxie dropped everything back in, hand staying inside while addressing Zairn.“People are here?”
“Waiting for your instruction, Empress.”
Husband and wife oozed devotion in their back and forth.
“Salad?”Roxie asked.“Dunlap—”
