But then I hear Georgina’s voice, and I know I’m sunk.
“Reed,” she whispers on an exhale. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not? You said yourself, we’re friends now. Well, let me take my friend to New York City as a birthday present.”
“If I go on this trip with you, and let you try to ‘seduce’ me again, then what? It won’t end well. We’re doomed. So, what’s the point?”
We’re not doomed, I think. We’re destiny. “Please, Georgie. I won’t hurt you again. I promise.” She’s silent. And I’m desperate. “All right, then. This trip isn’t a birthday present. It’s a work obligation. I’ve got full discretion as to when and where I make my artists available for interviews. And I’m only making RCR available to you backstage before their concert at Madison Square Garden. Take it or leave it.”
She scoffs. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Wow, great plan, Mr. Rivers. Bully me into falling in love with you again.”
My heart stops. It’s the first time Georgina’s used the “L” word. And it only makes me want to come at her that much harder. “Take it or leave it, Miss Ricci,” I say sternly. “You can still interview Dean, individually, in Malibu, like we discussed. But this is the only way I’ll serve up RCR to you, as a full band.”
I can practically hear her eye roll over the phone line. “Fine, ya big dickhead. I’ll take it. But I won’t have dinner with you on Saturday night. And I won’t fly to New York with you. I’ll meet you backstage at the concert on Sunday, with my press pass around my neck.”
“God, you’re even more stubborn than me. I want to take you to my favorite restaurant in Manhattan.”
“And I want to punch you in the face. Sometimes, we can’t have everything we want in life.”
I chuckle, despite my misery. “Georgina, this is stupid. Every time we talk, the chemistry between us is through the roof, and you know it.”
“So what? Chemistry is a shortsighted thing to chase. If I can’t trust you with my heart, there’s no point in moving forward. Honestly, I wish I could trust you with my heart again, because, apparently, it still belongs to you, whether I like it or not. Along with my body. But I have to get over you, Reed. For my own good. You’re nobody’s Prince Charming. And yet, that’s how I started thinking about you when I was following you around like a smitten puppy for a week. Is that really what you want? For some pie-eyed smitten puppy to start imagining you’re her Prince Charming?”
Yes. The word pops into my mind, unbidden. Yes, yes, yes. That’s exactly what I want, as long as the pie-eyed smitten puppy is you.
Georgina continues, “Now, stop trying to bully my affection out of me. Stop trying to buy it. And stop trying to wear me down with all this sweet-talk and razzle dazzle. The answer is no.”
“Georgina, you’ve got to know turning a ‘no’ into ‘yes’ is my favorite thing to do, when I want something badly enough. And what I want is you.”
“No, you don’t. You want the old version of me. The one who let go for you, completely, the night of the necklace. Well, guess what? I won’t be able to let go like that again, because I’ll be imagining you screwing Isabel in that garage.”
I feel too defeated to speak. Too full of despair and remorse. For the hundredth time since this disaster happened, I think about doing that thing... the thing that would almost certainly exonerate me... but also risk unleashing the kraken on me, and on Isabel, too, in a way I’d live to regret. Yet again, I decide I simply can’t risk it.
“I’ll see you in New York, Mr. Rivers,” she says, breaking the thick silence. “Backstage at the RCR concert on Sunday night.”
“I’ll book your travel.”
“No. It’s official business, remember? Rock ‘n’ Roll will cover it.”
Emotion threatens. My eyes sting. But I clear my throat and bite back the wave of emotion gripping me. “All right. I’ll see you in New York, Miss Ricci. Travel safe.”
Chapter 12
Georgina
Wednesday 4:14 pm
After quite a bit of driving around, I find a parking spot in downtown LA and then start trekking the few blocks to my destination—a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant called “Dee-Lish.” The eatery opened by Francesca Laramie after her release from prison three years ago. What were the crimes that sent Francesca to The Big House? Procurement of prostitution, conspiracy, tax evasion, and money laundering, all stemming from the high-end escort service she ran in Los Angeles for almost twenty years. All of which leads me to the inescapable conclusion, based on what Troy Eklund told me, that Isabel’s secret—the one Troy used to blackmail Reed into settling his lawsuit—was that, at one time or another, America’s Sweetheart worked for Francesca Laramie as a paid escort.
But so what? Assuming it’s true, is it something I’d write about? No. Just because I’ve discovered a secret about someone, that doesn’t give me the right to reveal it to the world. Even if that someone happens to be a world-famous actress. Even if that someone happens to be the woman who fooled around with my man.
No matter how much Reed hurt me, I’m not going to ruin Isabel’s life for a kiss. Or whatever happened in that garage. And I’m sure as hell not the kind of woman who’d shame another woman for doing whatever she wanted with her own body. Isn’t that what CeeCee taught me, when I asked her if it was okay for me to sleep with an interview subject? Not to shame another woman for doing whatever the hell she wants with her own body? Well, then, I’m paying it forward. You’re welcome, Isabel.
I admit I was devastated when Reed kissed Isabel. Or did whatever he did with her. But what I said to CeeCee was the truth: my issue is with Reed. Reed is the one who slipped that ruby necklace around my neck and called me his “queen.” Reed is the one who told me nobody is allowed to hurt me, ever again, and then turned around and did just that.
Also, and this isn’t a small thing, I have to think Reed hired Isabel as his paid escort the night of CeeCee’s birthday party. Why else would they both lie about how they met? Why else would Reed say he and Isabel went on a blind date that night, and Isabel say she met Reed through Josh Faraday? Really, it makes perfect sense. Reed had a rented tux that night. A rented limo. So, why not a rented woman, too? He had a plan to convince the power players at that party, especially CeeCee, he belonged there. Apparently, he figured a hot blonde on his arm was the ultimate status symbol. And guess what? He was probably right.
Frankly, this realization about Reed doesn’t shock me at all. Reed once told me he figured out how to be an “influencer” before the term was coined. He explained he figured out how to use his curated image as a “cool kid” to conquer the world. Well, bravo, Reed Rivers. If hiring Isabel was part of that strategy, then good for you. Look at you now. I know Reed has hurt me. But he’s also done amazingly wonderful things for my father and me. Life-changing things. And for that, he’ll always have my loyalty and love. Which means Isabel’s secret—and Reed’s, too, if I’m right about him hiring Isabel—are safe with me.