No Strings Attached

Chapter Thirty-Five

Oh my god.

I know my eyes betray me, as the cool, calm, collected mask of indifference I'm used to switching into in place slips in my horror. I squint at the flashes, blinded by the lights, trying to comprehend what the hell has just occurred.

I look at Giovanni, who tears his round eyes away from the crowds of reporters lined up on either side of us. The minute his eyes meet mine, I've found a way to initiate action.

"Get to the car now!" I gasp, stepping forward, cautious to remain a few feet away from him as I search for Jimmy and my vehicle. Fuck, the line of cars goes down blocks. He won't be in this mess, not without a call from me. The reporters behind the line follow us, shouting their questions mindlessly.

"Mine is across the street," Giovanni says, pointing. The second we're off the carpet to the hotel entrance, I watch them begin to hurry towards us, pouncing on the opportunity to get right up next to us.

"Do you have anything to say about these pictures?"

"How long have you been screwing?"

Giovanni grabs my arm, flinging me to the other side of him as they begin to approach us quickly, fiercely bold with their comments. They're pressed up against him, their cameras in his face.

We cross through the vehicles, the limousines in traffic and still they hound us both, following us into the street.

"Do you have anything to say?"

"How is it to screw your top client?"

I can't breathe. I stare ahead, hurrying faster towards the sleek Bentley across the street. It seems so far right now, unreachable.

There are more reporters coming up, ones that had been on the other side of the carpet. Their cameras are pressed into the back of my skull, stalking up behind me, their voices blaringly loud.

I instinctively gravitate closer to Giovanni's arm, which is extended to me. But I feel something on my gown, a shoe possibly and I fall back, hearing the crack of my heel and the sharp pain of it throughout my ankle. Shit.

Both of Giovanni's arms are around me then and he's shoving me towards the car. I reach for the door, pulling the passenger side open. Giovanni grabs the handle, waiting for me to scramble inside. My eyes, wide with fear, try to meet his, but he's already shutting the door.

They're surrounding the car. Giovanni turns, caged in, but he suddenly shoves one of them back to try and get by. The flashes go off even more.

No, Giovanni.

My eyes dart back to the event, where every guest has stopped to stare at the commotion taking place. I breathe a sigh of relief when he opens the driver's side, slamming the door closed on them. I stare ahead, trying to control any and all of the emotions I'm feeling.

Give them nothing.

Nothing.

Giovanni slams his hand down on the horn, moving the car towards them, inching them back.

"Scarlett, is this the first client? Or have there been others?"

"Can't keep your hands off your publicists, huh, Giovanni?"

When he finally gets a clean break, the back of my head slams into the seat. The tires screech before the car shoots forward from the array of vehicles.

***

Giovanni turns off the transmission, parked at a random shipping yard, the first place he probably saw that he knew no one would be able to see us.