Page 1 of Dust Storm

PROLOGUE

CASSANDRA

Camera flashes blinded me as I stumbled behind the red-carpet backdrop.

Shouts rose from the press line. “Miss Parker, do you have a comment on the allegations made by Lillian Monroe?”

The spike of my stiletto snagged a duct-taped cord, and I jolted forward.

Someone jumped the barricade and shoved a camera in my face. “Is it true that you paid off a judge?”

I gripped my clutch like the last life preserver on a sinking ship.

“Miss Parker! Look right here!”

Another flash.

And another.

And another.

A catering van parked in an alleyway caught my attention. I hurried toward it, but kept my pace under a run.

Paparazzi had a prey drive. If I ran, they would chase me down and eat me alive.

I slipped behind the van and fumbled through my clutch for my phone. Servers and cooks gave me odd looks as they shuffled through crates of prep work.

Just ignore the blonde in a designer dress, hiding behind cases of champagne.

I thumbed through my messages, looking for one from Tripp.

Nothing.

I peeked around the edge of the open van door as I tapped the call button and waited for it to connect.

You’ve reached Tripp Meyers. Please leave a message at the beep.

I swore under my breath and stuffed my phone back in my clutch. My chest pulled tight like a rubber band about to snap.

The car was there, but it was Lillian’s. There was no way I’d be able to take it.

Tripp was, presumably, doing damage control.

Which meant I was on my own.

With a breath, I tied the sash of my long coat tight to hide my dress.

The Carrington Group headquarters were ten blocks from here, which meant I had to keep my head down and not draw attention to myself.

That would be difficult, considering my face had been plastered on every screen nationwide as a backstabbing actress looked me in the eye while she flushed my career down the toilet.

Ten blocks in sky-high stilettos that were already shredding my feet.Fantastic. If I kept my head down, I would be able to hide the tears I wasn’t supposed to cry.

I’d get in the building, hunker down away from prying eyes, and make a plan.

I just needed a minute to think.

The pit of vipers turned to a mob, fueled by the click of camera shutters. I peered in the side mirror of the catering van,watching as my fiancé escorted my former client and new enemy out of the historic theater.

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