Trashed (Stripped 2)

Rose and I take care of business, and then wash our hands, and then Rose plucks at a strand of platinum blond hair, tucking it back into position, adjusts her breasts in the bodice of her Valentino gown, wiggles a foot in her Jimmy Choo heels. And then she fixes her hazel eyes on me.

“So. Des.” She turns to face me and props one slim, perfect hip against the counter. “What do you think about your first event?”

I swallow hard and try to smile. “Is it that obvious?”

Rose laughs, but it doesn’t feel mocking. “Yeah, it kind of is. You haven’t said two words to anyone but Adam, for one thing.”

I shrug. “I don’t know anyone but Adam.”

“Clearly.” She waves a hand. “The men probably aren’t as aware as I am, though. They’re all too hypnotized by that cleavage of yours.”

I laugh with her, but I’m not entirely sure she’s kidding. “Is it too much?”

Rose makes an incredulous face. “Des, honey, if I had your tits, I’d have them on display too. But no, it’s not too much.” She trails a finger through my hair. “Who did your hair and makeup? It’s simple and understated. It really works for you.”

My cheeks heat and I want to look away from her in embarrassment. “I did,” I say.

She nods. “Well, you did an amazing job. I’m not sure I’d have the balls to do my own hair and makeup for an event like this.”

“It was kind of last minute,” I say, which is true enough, but doesn’t really address the fact that there was no one to do it for me, as she’s obviously used to.

“Adam did explain what he was bringing you to, didn’t he?”

“Sort of?”

Rose’s eyes go wide and concerned. “Look, sweetie, you’re really beautiful, and I can see why Adam’s attracted to you. But, just between you and me, it’s pretty obvious you’re not…in the industry, so to speak. And now you’re telling me he brought you to this event without preparing you for what you’d face?”

“Like I said, it was last minute.” I take a deep breath. “I should probably get back.”

Rose sighs. “I can’t believe him. You can’t just spring a thing like this on a girl. I hope you’re ready, babe.”

“Ready?” I swallow hard. “For what?”

“The attention. You’ve just been put under an international spotlight, Des. There may not be television media here, which is fortunate for you, but it’s still one of the most widely covered events of the year. The photographs from this are going to be in every magazine in the developed world. Especially since Adam came with you instead of Em.” She shakes her head. “I honestly don’t know what he was thinking. Nothing against you, it’s just—”

My heart sinks, and my stomach flips. “What?”

“Well, it’s just that the rumor mill surrounding Adam is kind of rabid.” She smooths her dress over her hips and glances at me. “Any time he goes anywhere, all the rags make up these speculative stories about what he’s doing and where he’s going and who he’s with. When he and Em broke up, it was the talk of the whole community. It was ugly. Really, really ugly. And every appearance since then has been the subject of a million rumors. Bringing you, to this? Last minute, no explanation? It’s going to start the mill all over again, and anyone connected to the media is going to be looking for you.”

“Looking for me?”

Rose nodded. “And they’ll find you, too. They’re relentless.”

I feel faint. “Awesome.” I steady myself with both hands on the counter. My breath is coming in short gasps. The panic attack I’ve been fending off all night is pounding in my throat and at my temples and in my lungs. “Good thing I’m not a super private person or anything. Jesus.”

A small, cool hand touches my back. “Breathe, sweetie. It’ll be fine. They’ll print whatever they want to print, and eventually they’ll lose interest. Just don’t do any interviews, ’kay?”

“Why would I do an interview? About what?”

Rose laughs, and this one does sound condescending, but not cruelly so. “Oh, honey. You really have no idea, do you? They’ll want to know every detail about you and Adam. And they’ll offer you money, and book deals, and all sorts of things like that. If you want to remain a private person, don’t answer. Just tell everyone ‘no comment’ and live your life. Eventually someone will come along who actually wants their attention.”

A deep voice beyond the door rumbles loudly. “Sorry, Mr. Trenton. Can’t let you in.”

I hear Adam’s voice. “You gonna try and stop me, Zach?” Silence, and then the door opens, revealing Adam, with the bodyguard behind him. “Didn’t think so.” Adam crosses to me, I feel him beside me, feel his hand on my lower back.

“Hi, Adam.” Rose’s voice is neutral, careful. “The little boys room is next door, I think.”

“What did you say to her, Rose?”

“Just the truth.” She passes me and stops in front of Adam. “I’m not sure you did yourself or her any favors, bringing her here, Adam.”

“Goddamn it, Rose—”

“She’s really stunning, though. Even in an off-the-rack dress.”

“Don’t be a bitch, Rose,” Adam growls, his voice low and threatening.

“I’m not!”

I stand up, push between them, hating how they’re talking about me as if I’m not here. “Adam, stop. It’s fine. She wasn’t being a bitch.” I let out a wavery breath. “Thanks for the advice, Rose. Adam, let’s just go, okay?”

I sweep past Adam and Rose and out the door, past Zach the burly bodyguard…right into a gaggle of photographers waiting for me on the other side of the rope.

They’re less than four feet away from me now, ten of them, and their cameras come up and start clicking, flashing.

“What’s your name, honey? Can you tell us your name?” The questions come in a sudden burst, variations on a theme. They all want to know my name, and I’m frozen, staring at them, eyes wide, panicking.

And then Adam is behind me, a hand on my waist, propelling me up the stairs, away from the cameras and the questions without so much as a word to any of them. The event is still going on, but now Gareth is at the podium talking about “a noble cause” or something. Adam guides me away from the dining room and into what seems like a small library, a few tables and plush couches and elegant chairs, bookshelves lining all four walls, and a small bar behind which is a pretty, middle-aged black woman with thin dreadlocks, dressed in hotel livery.