The reporter paused as the photo of Kyla next to VJ’s head morphed into one of VJ and Kris at Casa di Luigi when the sexual tension had been so high, the sparks between them were practically visible.
VJ flinched. Her fingers were in Kris’s mouth in the photo—but when weren’t they? She and Kris should have had more discretion. Mama would be so ashamed, especially to hear her daughter had been carrying on with a man she’d just met.
The reporter’s face grew grave. “Social media is frenzied over the alleged betrayal of an actress beloved in the films Sweet as Snow and Long Way Home.”
Text appeared on the screen and with a roiling stomach, VJ read the vicious slurs people had posted to various websites. Calling her a home wrecker. A boyfriend stealer, though that was ridiculous since Kyla and Kris hadn’t been together. Calling her a nobody. Well, that one was true.
Who went to that much effort to say things about someone they’d never met? And over a situation they knew nothing about? Hilarious how all this was her fault. Apparently the man in a cheating and heartbreak scandal had no culpability.
Breakfast almost reappeared when the author of one of the slurs identified herself as a technician at the spa VJ had gone to. She went so far as to say she’d seen VJ’s breasts and they were nothing special. As if that made it obvious Kris had chosen the wrong woman.
VJ had to get out of this room and away from the TV.
She stretched out at the pool and tried to empty her mind through sheer will. She didn’t even pick up Embrace the Rogue. Her runaway carriage had already crashed and burned and the hero wasn’t around to save her anyway.
A commotion by the pool’s gate interrupted her misery. Two women in Hotel Dragonfly uniforms were blocking the pool entrance. Another woman clutching a microphone and a man with a camera tried to get past them. Even at a hundred yards, the news channel logo and the raised voices were painfully clear. It was a reporter looking for VJ.
Well, what better way to handle this than to make a statement? According to Kyla, Kris liked strong women who could take care of themselves. So she’d take care of it.
Twelve
VJ wove through the loungers and other hotel guests to the exit. “I’ll talk to them,” she said to the uniformed women.
“If you’re sure, Ms. Lewis.” The two hotel employees nodded and melted away.
The camera lens was much bigger than it had looked from the other side of the pool. The cameraman zeroed in on her bikini. She should have scheduled time later, when she was dressed. Too late now.
“I’m Rebecca Rogers from KTVN.” The reporter was a sleek blonde woman in heels, with flawless makeup and a tan dark enough to draw the attention of every skin-cancer specialist in Dallas. “Ms. Lewis? Is that your name?”
“VJ Lewis. I didn’t steal Kris from Kyla. Can you tell everyone?”
The reporter’s expression didn’t change. “Is this on the record?”
“You can quote me if that’s the question. I heard what people are saying about me and it’s not true. None of it is. I’m not that kind of person, who deliberately goes after a man who’s unavailable.”
She flinched at the lie as soon as it came out of her mouth. No, the engagement was never real and Kris wasn’t actually with Kyla, but at the top of the Ferris wheel, she’d kissed a man carrying an engagement ring intended for another woman. They’d had an agreement and VJ had plunked herself down in the middle of it.
“You deny that you’re intimately involved with Kristian Demetrious?” The reporter almost shoved the microphone into VJ’s mouth in her eagerness.
“I’m denying that he was involved with Kyla Monroe. They weren’t engaged. They’re not going to be engaged. It was supposed to be a publicity stunt to promote their new movie.”
That got the reporter’s attention. She fired off a series of questions, and VJ answered them as best she could. She was a good girl from West Texas, not the vixen home wrecker people thought she was, and this reporter could clarify that.
“You work fast,” Rebecca concluded with a smarmy grin. “This is quite a cozy arrangement you have going on with Kristian.” The microphone was in her face again. The reporter asked, “What’s next for you two?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? “That’s private.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows rose. “But the rest of your relationship isn’t?”
“It should be. But thanks to people like you, it’s not. I can’t sit by and let everyone believe bad things about me.”
“So, you just want people to believe bad things about Kyla Monroe and Kristian Demetrious. Right? You said they were planning to pretend to be engaged as a publicity stunt.”