Page 3 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

I don’t have long to gather my composure. Soon, these hundreds of cameras will all be redirecting toward me, snapping pictures of my face and recording my reactions.

I lift my chin and force myself back into the present moment, focusing on a breathing technique that usually works pretty well.

“Exhale through the pain” is a quote my Pilates teacher likes to use to keep us holding a plank.

I have no issues with holding the plank. In fact, I welcome the pain that comes with Pilates—it feels good, unlike the pain that comes from Holden. But all I want to do right now is surrender to the emotion and cry a river.

Which I can’t do until I get home.

Exhale through the pain.

I have to get back to being the all-powerful Sienna Lane everyone thinks I am. Emotion ruins careers.

Cameras flash, and the diamond ring glints in the light, stealing everyone’s attention. Fans fight their way through the crowd, desperate for a closer look, all raising their phones to see who can get the best shot.

I’m paralyzed and so sick to my stomach.

Why the hell would he do this in front of all these people? In front of me?

Valentina cups her hands over her mouth in surprise. Her eyes are almost as bedazzled as the ring, which is really saying something.

She’s new to LA—a model. That’s how I started out when I was sixteen. Back then, I stole everyone’s attention just like this ring is doing now, and the woman wearing it.

Valentina Vescari is drop-dead gorgeous, with voluptuous curves and perfectly wavy, dark hair. Her skin is like glass, with no fine lines around her mouth, not even when she pouts her lips as Holden goes in for a kiss.

She definitely never gets asked whether she has started getting Botox.

I take a step back, my bodyguard there for support. We exchange a look, and he gives me a subtle we-can-get-out-of-here glance, which I know isn’t an option right now. If I leave right now, the internet will have a field day.

The only way I’m getting out of here is on a stretcher. My legs feel like lead, and I’ve completely seized up. To make matters worse, my knees feel like they’re going to buckle.

I already made a fool of myself enough tonight with my acting. I can’t afford to take it a step further and face-plant the red carpet. There’d be no coming back from that.

I remain still and wait for the initial hoopla to be over so I can get the fuck out of here and go home.

I can hear bits of conversation all around me.

“Oh my god! Poor Sienna.”

“They dated a couple of years ago, right? She must be over him by now.”

If only that were true.

“Yeah, but their relationship seemed pretty serious.”

“Did you hear how she moaned in the movie? I’ll bet you fifty bucks she still has feelings.”

I straighten my spine and smile because all lights are now on me. It can’t be much different from the Oscars. You mask the disappointment with a smile and say only good things about the winning nominee. The same rules apply.

“What are your thoughts on this, Sienna?” An interviewer sticks his mic in my face.

“I’m happy for them.”

The biggest lie to have ever come out of my mouth.

I smile, laugh and repeat the same bullshit phrase over until the press finally decides to call it a night.

I’m not going to be able to sleep a wink tonight. After that performance, my career is on shaky ground, and I have zero hopes of rekindling something with Holden.