A Hollywood Bride(38)
“It’s called research. I make it a priority to look into my clients to make sure there aren’t any surprises that can derail my efforts. She’s ‘dating’ darling Pyotr for money so he can trick his grandfather into believing he’s heterosexual.” Mira tsks. “I heard that the old man really hates gay guys.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Is it? I think you know better.” She crosses her legs, the motion indolent. “I don’t want to hurt Renni anymore than you do, I’m sure. I’m hoping to make her a star and make some money off her. But Ryder is my priority, and I won’t hesitate to do whatever I have to make sure you don’t do anything that can damage his image or reputation. You’ve already done enough with that sex tape and the scene in front of Jones & Jones.”
Her blatant victim-blaming pisses me off, especially after what I put up with this morning. My voice comes out louder and sharper than normal. “I didn’t release the damn tape! And I certainly didn’t ask to be attacked!”
Mira almost yawns. “My dear, it doesn’t matter what you did. What matters is how it affects Ryder. Besides, you can’t deny that you left him. Breaking off the wedding at this point would be damaging. Very difficult to spin. You’re supposed to be acting grateful to be his bride.”
I’m shaking so hard, I can’t speak. There are so many things I want to say, but none of them are appropriate.
“Don’t think I won’t use what I have on your friend to keep you in line. It’s not the first time I’ve had to protect Ryder from some woman who didn’t know her place.” She stands up. “Now, in case you weren’t aware, he and I have an appointment to talk about his next project. So I’m going to walk out of here, and you’re going to toe the line. Have a productive day, Paige.”
Chapter Thirteen
Paige
Mira might’ve left, but the after-effects of her threat haven’t. My hands are shaking.
But I get up, pace a bit and take a few breaths. Try to put the unpleasantness behind me. There’s work to do. Having Ryder’s ring on my finger doesn’t mean I get to slack off, even if he did tell me to “relax.”
There are piles and piles of things to go through, and the temp assistant didn’t organize any of it with any discernible logic. Okay, I think, surveying the carnage, electronic stuff first. I answer all the emails that have been read but are languishing in the inbox, then forward all the invoices to Ryder’s accountant for review and payment. Next, I go back and reconcile all the weekly financial reports from said accountant with my own records to make sure everything matches up. It’s one of the things I’m supposed to do, and it helps us check everyone’s work to make sure that all invoices are paid on time, and there are no unusual items. Of course, since the temp assistant didn’t do any of the reconciliation, I spend most of that time working on past reports.
A couple of hours later, Ryder stops by my office. I hear the clacking of Mira’s heels receding down the hall.
He’s still in a white button-down shirt and khaki shorts, and hasn’t bothered with shoes. A day’s worth of beard covers his jaw. The look is singularly disconcerting. I’ve seen him unshaven before, but never when it was okay to touch, and right now he looks eminently touchable. I’m also certain he won’t object if I finish what we started earlier. I hide my hands underneath the desk and curl my fingers.
“You all right?” he asks.
“Fine.” I smile for his benefit, although I’m not okay. Not really.
He shifts his weight. “That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Yeah. The temp kind of got behind.”
A snort. “Did he do anything?”
“Something, I would imagine.”
Ryder shakes his head. “Worthless. No wonder Mira was bitching about him.”
Tension returns to my shoulders and neck. I feel the muscles there knotting up, but make a conscious effort to relax.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing.” Her threats are about me, and I don’t want to involve him. Mira is his agent, and she’s been with him longer than me. I don’t want to cause any friction between the two of them.
He shakes his head. “You remember that question you asked me yesterday?”
The sudden change of topic disconcerts me for a moment. “What about it?”
“Do you think ‘nothing’ is the answer you would’ve given your fiancé?”
I lean back in my seat. He has a point, but I don’t want to blur personal and professional. I look back at him, my mouth stubbornly closed.