As they moved down Broadway, she looked at the electronic billboards almost blindly, her thoughts directed inward as she tried to focus on work rather than how she felt.
Until long, lithe legs strutted across a light tan background, and she felt a shock of recognition. Tilting her neck to get a better look, she blinked in confusion for a minute. The woman in the ECRA+ body lotion campaign wasn’t her.
Ronan moved to follow her gaze. “Who’s that?”
She licked her dry lips. “Tatiana Cherlin. I knew she was a part of the campaign—she’s been one of the core models since the line launched—but her rollout was supposed to be next month.”
Jules looked out the window as well. “Those have been running since Saturday, I think. I haven’t watched long enough to see everything rotating through, but I haven’t seen your ads since Friday. “
“It would make sense to swap them out,” Claudette said, giving Ireland a kind look.
Releasing a shaky breath, Ireland sagged back into the seat. It shouldn’t bother her. She knew that. She’d done the campaign as a favor and had no aspirations to become a model.
But it also oddly felt like she’d been…erased. The campaign had been envisioned to show a variety of women and men undressed—although strategically covered in various ways—with the message that feeling confident and sexy in your skin came from within but could be supported by the ECRA+ body lotion on the outside. She’d liked the message and was flattered that Eva and Gideon thought she was the prime candidate to launch the product with.
Now, the message she got was that she could no longer be seen as fierce and sexy. She was a victim now.
The limo turned onto 48thStreet, and she heard Ronan’s low curse.
“What?” she asked, trying to shake off her disappointment and unease. Then she saw the entrance to Vidal Records, and her body tensed painfully.
A reporter stood off-center from the front door with a cameraman actively filming her report. On either side of her were clusters of people with their cellphones in hand or carried on selfie sticks. Some looked to be tourists, others possibly independent reporters or true crime enthusiasts. In any case, there was no question in Ireland’s mind that she couldn’t exit the limo.
She felt so sick for a moment that she thought she might vomit.
“Cher,” he murmured. “You don’t look well.”
“What the fuck?” she breathed. “I don’t understand this.”
“There’s that woman from the bar yesterday,” Claudette said, looking on the opposite side of the street where the deli was.
Looking, Ireland recognized the woman she’d seen with Graham in Jazzie’s. The fluttering anxiety in her tummy became unbearable, and she began breathing heavily, her chest heaving.
The limo slowed to a halt, and Ronan quickly hit the button to lower the window between them and the driver. “Two of us are getting out. Two of us are going back to the last pickup point.”
“Sure thing,” the driver said easily, before rolling up the window.
Jules and Claudette looked at her with something too damn close to pity, and Ireland couldn’t seem to get her shit together enough to even act like she was okay.
Leaning forward, Claudette put her hand gently on Ireland’s knee. “I’m sorry, Ireland. I can only imagine what this has been like for you.”
Her lower lip quivering, Ireland just nodded, afraid that if she tried to say anything, she’d only break down in tears.
Jules opened the door, and the crowd on the sidewalk rushed into the street. He had to physically hold them back for Claudette to exit and to close the door without anyone looking inside. It took one of the Vidal guards coming outside to clear a path for them to enter the offices.
Ronan’s arm around her shoulders tightened, and she turned into him, resting her cheek against his chest.
He murmured to her, soft and soothing words that she registered only for the emotion in them. Overwhelmed, she began to gasp for air, the interior of the limo feeling too confining. He adjusted the vents, aiming cool air onto her heated face.
“I don’t…” she began, but still her chaotic thoughts and racing pulse made it difficult to express herself.
“It’s a goddamned circus,” he said crossly. “I’m sorry I didn’t check first with Vidal security. I forgot there was a man there yesterday trying to film content. And we need to tell the detectives and your brother that Teller’s girlfriend was there.”
She swallowed a wrenching sob. “My life is never going to be the same, is it? I’m always going to be a kidnapping victim. I’m always going to have people with guns hovering around me. Nothing’s ever going to be normal.”
His chest lifted and fell beneath her. “You’ll have a new normal, and one day, it won’t feel so strange. And sometime soon, something else is going to happen in the world that draws attention from this. It won’t be long.”
“You don’t want this, Ronan,” she said bitterly. “No one wants to live like this. You should listen to Jules and go back to New Orleans. You can still have normal.”
