No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty-Four

My eyes open slowly, tiredly, as I hear a distant noise through the door.

My cell phone.

I consider forgetting about it, but knowing I ignored it all day yesterday, I begin to sit up.

My eyes drift over the man sleeping beside me. I smile softly, admiring Giovanni's beautiful features, remembering how sweet and tender he was to me last night. I haven't really seen that side of him before.

And despite myself, I liked it.

I grab my clothing off the chair and hurry out of the room to make it to my phone in time. The call ends just as I enter the doorway.

I reach for it, grabbing it off of my charger. I sigh when I see my screen swarmed with calls and texts.

Damn.

I call Rebecca back first.

"Jesus! You do know I've called you twenty times since yesterday!? Since when do you not answer your phone?"

"Since now," I groan, rolling my eyes. "It's Sunday, Bec. I won't even be back till tomorrow."

"Have you looked at your mentions? Magazines? A newspaper of any relevance?"

My skin prickles with awareness. "No. Why?"

"You were seen with Giovanni yesterday. The papers are blowing this into a mess. There was an article that was posted at dawn, and it's gone coast-to-coast in a matter of three hours."

"What?"

I press my hand to my chest. "I mean, we were just out together. I'm his publicist."

"Yeah, I know. But you two were walking around Rodeo Drive on a Saturday... and you're attractive people. I mean, you're with Giovanni Martinelli, for Christ's sake. You didn't expect it to be news?"

"Of course not!"

"He was staring at you pretty seriously, Scarlett. Whoever took the pictures got the perfect shots. They were right up next to you."

"Send me the pictures," I demand, closing out the call screen so that I can pull up my messages. The pictures she sends pop up, and I click on them with trembling fingers.

I nearly growl, realizing that I know exactly who took these pictures.

"It was a group of teenagers, girls who had crushes on him. He was talking to them."

I stare at the picture, dread building deep in my stomach. The look on Giovanni's face... even I can't refute that. The look in his eyes speaks volumes. It's frightening to see it like evidence, right in front of my face.

"Why were you with him anyway? And why do you look so different?"

I exhale, panicking. "Um, he introduced me to a stylist. I had told him the night before that I was looking to buy some new clothes."

"You look gorgeous. I'm not surprised he was staring. I doubt the world is either."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. "Um, thanks, Bec. Look, I'm going to come home today. I'll deal with this at the office."

"But it's Sund—"

"I'll talk to you later."

I hang up abruptly, rubbing my face, this news hitting me like a cold wake-up call. I've overstepped in so many ways this weekend. I can't afford to do that. My job can't afford it. If I'm caught screwing my client, I'm done. My credibility goes out the damn window.

I don't even bother showering here. I hastily pull on my clothing, pushing my hair back behind my ears to try to tidy it up. My toe bumps into his bench as I reach for my purse.