“Dude…are you ok?” he asks, concern engraved in his face. He squints his slanted eyes, making them look black under his dark brows.
“Yeah,” I frown, taking in everyone’s anxious stares. “What’s going on?”
“Haven’t you checked the news? I’ve been texting you.”
I fish my cell out of my pocket and press the Home button. Completely black. I must’ve forgotten to charge it after Ally and I took naked selfies yesterday. Shit, that’s not like me.
“Phone’s dead. Why? What’s up?”
Riku looks around, stalling nervously, as a few of the housewives trickle into the great room for this morning’s lesson. My gaze goes straight over his shoulder, past everything and everyone else, in anticipation of seeing Ally.
“You should really check the news, J.D.,” he says gravely. “Heidi is on her way down.”
“Heidi?” That gets my attention. I’ve worked with her for years, yet have only actually seen her less than a handful of times. This obviously isn’t a social visit.
“Yeah. Flight got in early this morning. She’ll be here any-”
“She’s already here,” a voice says from behind me. Heidi DuCane, the HBIC of the PR world, and renowned pit bull in a skirt. Heidi is probably the only person on earth that can make me shiver at her cold demeanor. The ice queen’s penchant for perfection and results is what has made her the most sought after—and highest paid—publicist in the business. And her sharp, Nordic features and statuesque frame have definitely made her the hottest.
I take in the tall, leggy blonde holding a sleek briefcase at her side, and nod at her approach. Heidi’s flawless face is screwed into a scowl that would make even the toughest alpha male wilt on sight. Riku shrinks back into the kitchen before she stops in front of me.
“Charge your fucking phone, Drake,” she says without preamble. Then she turns to make her way across the courtyard towards my house.
I look back at Diane, feeling a few inches shorter. “Dismiss the ladies. Tell them to review in their suites, then they’re free to enjoy the day.”
When I look up, she’s there, stealing the breath from my lungs and replacing it with what feels like helium. I feel like I’m floating when she’s around, so high that I can kiss the sun. She looks back at me, frozen in place, those cherry lips slightly parted as if she’s just gasped or moaned. It takes everything in me not to stride over to her and find out for myself.
“Standby. I’ll be in touch,” I mutter to Diane without looking at her. Then I turn away and step back into my cold, dark reality.
“THIS IS FUCKED, Drake. Seriously. How could you let this happen?”
Heidi paces the floor of my living room in 6-inch Louboutins, a smartphone in each of her hands. She brings one up to her ear and barks out an order, but I don’t hear it. My eyes and ears don’t move past the scenes playing out on the television screen. Variations of the same headline play over and over again as people try to speculate and dissect the bit of information they’ve been given on a silver platter.
Breaking News: Sex Doctor to the Stars Revealed!
Male Sexpert Transforms Socialites into Sexpots
$250k to sleep with your wife? You won’t believe who his celeb clients are!
A real life Dr. Feel Good? His patients unmasked.
Who is Justice Drake? Celebrity Consultant or Sexual Predator?
Who is Justice Drake?
Who is Justice Drake?
Even I can’t answer that.
“Justice. Justice!” I turn towards the sound of Heidi’s aggravated voice, but I don’t look at her. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“They don’t have anything. Just a name. All they have is a name,” I answer almost robotically, ignoring her question.
“Yeah, but who knows who leaked that? And it’s only a matter of time before they have more.”
I turn back to the TV just as the scene changes, displaying a new headline. “A Search for Justice.” Clever.
“Justice… I’ve got my hands full dealing with irate clients. You promised them full discretion, and now they’re scared this will get out.” She walks over to me and places a slender hand on my wrist. It’s the first time Heidi has ever touched me. Her skin is softer than I imagined, more delicate. Even with the hard exterior, Heidi is a woman through and through. I briefly wonder about her love life. Is she married? Dating? Gay or straight? Is someone making her toes curl regularly?
“Hey,” she coos with a pained smile. “You have to make a decision here. The curtain is closing. Time to send them home.”