Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(93)
Rosie at a lake party. Rosie playing beach volleyball. Rosie hiking. Rosie at the fucking grocery store. I’ve watched her effortlessly draw attention for most of her life, and I’m not even sure she realizes how organically she does it.
“Rosie, is that you?” a woman’s voice says, filtering in from our right.
I turn, and Rosie’s hand glides across my back as she steps in front of me while keeping as close as possible.
“Faye?” Her eyes light up when she takes in the dark haired woman, who appears to be a bit younger. “Hi!” She almost squeals as she wraps her free arm around the woman’s neck. I press my lips together to cover the smile because I have a feeling the champagne is affecting her volume control.
Gin did the same thing to her when she was younger.
Rosie holds her back. “How are you? What are you doing here?”
“I quit working at Apex and came out here to do my master’s. Journalism. Just here putting some time in at a local paper before classes start in the fall.” She holds up the press pass lanyard around her neck with a grin.
Rosie smiles the most genuine smile in the room as she holds the woman back to look at her. “Good for you. Oh, this is…” Rosie peers back at me, lips twitching in a mirror image of my own because I’ve been the one saying this out loud all night. And now it’s her turn. “This is my boyfriend, Ford.”
Faye’s eyes move to mine and bulge a little. “Nice to meet you,” she says demurely, reaching forward to shake my hand.
“Likewise.” I try to smile, but I’ll never be good at events like these or pretending small talk invigorates me.
Her gaze turns back to Rosie, and she clears her throat. “I have to get this off my chest. I’m just so sorry about what happened.” Her hand waves between them. “At the office. With Stan.”
Rosie’s smile dims. “Yeah, me too.”
“It’s like everyone speculates about what went down, but they’re too scared to say or do anything beyond gossip at the water cooler.”
I feel Rosie tense and my molars clamp as the woman rambles on.
“If it’s any consolation, that place is in shambles. Most likely going to go under. Shit was spiraling alarmingly fast when I got out.”
Now I stiffen.
“What a shame,” Rosie deadpans.
A few beats of silence hang in the air, chatter around us rising to the forefront, then both women burst into a fit of giggles.
“What was happening?” Rosie asks, while dabbing at the edges of her eyes.
Faye steps closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “They kept having to move offices. I don’t know if it was a money thing or what. They got an immediate eviction notice and sent everyone to work from home while they sorted stuff out. Then they moved to a whole new building and got evicted again. Rinse and repeat. I’m sure it was draining the coffers.”
Rosie’s mouth falls open, and she blinks a few times. “I mean, there must be contracts in place to prevent that?”
My jaw pops and I try to act casual as I glance around the room.
Faye shrugs. “I think so, but even legal costs can add up. It was all very mysterious. Nobody knows why. Heard through the grapevine tonight that it just happened again.”
Rosie’s posture is straight and stiff as her head turns to me, slicing me with a scathing look. One that stills me.
Rosalie Belmont is smart as a whip.
Smart enough to figure me out. I just stand by and watch her solve the puzzle at hyper-speed.
“Shit. That’s…” She shakes her head and looks back at Faye, recovering quickly. “Well, Stan’s empire falling apart… couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”
They both laugh while my heart thuds heavily in my sinking stomach.
The two women laugh and play catch-up for the next few minutes. And when Faye finally leaves us, Rosie returns to my side, slides her fingers through mine, and grits out, “Time for you and me to have a chat.”
“About?”
“In private,” is all she says as she leads me out of the room, finally wearing a smile that matches the fakeness of all the other vipers slithering around us.
And even though I don’t wear a fake smile, I realize I might be one of them after all.
CHAPTER FORTY
ROSIE
“Here?” Ford asks as I drag his infuriating ass out of the event.
“No. I don’t want some asshole snapping a photo of me reaming you out and running a headline about you being the World’s Most In Trouble Billionaire.”
He smirks at my response. “At least that title has a little character to it.”
Do I want to tear his head off? Yes.
Do I want to protect him at all costs? Also yes. I swear, if that blond reporter writes something mean about him, I’ll pull her extensions out.
I ignore him, hail our town car, and scoot to the opposite side.
Of course this charming idiot does what he did before and slides into the middle. I’ve always known Ford to be unapologetic and firm in his beliefs, and the way he’s reacting now is proof of that.
We ride in silence, hands on each other’s knees, the view out the window blurred by the dark night whipping past on the mostly empty roads. The minute the town car comes to a stop in front of the opulent boutique hotel, which sits on a cliff overlooking the lake, I fly out the door. The driver is flustered by not being able to open it for me, but I barge past him, the swish of silk accompanying the tapping of my heels against the brick walkway that leads to the front doors.