Page 24 of Tempting God

He moves a bit closer and says, “I never had a doubt.”

“Not even one?”

His shoulder bumps into mine. “Nope. Not when you’re in charge.”

A warm, fluttery feeling shoots through my body at his praise.

“Thank you, Justin.”

Someone calls my name, asking me to come over. I glance over to see who it is. It’s a reporter from the Times. Justin is looking, too, and has a grin on his face.

“Mind if I come with you?”

“Of course not.” I’m the one bumping his shoulder this time.

We make our way to the reporter, answering her questions about why we’re there. Justin surprises me with his ability to convey his thoughts clearly and passionately. By the time we’re finished, several other reporters have lined up to speak to us. My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I discreetly pull it out. It’s my doctor’s office. Crap. I think I missed another appointment. I’ll have to get back to them later. Sending the call to voicemail, I put my phone back in my pocket and turn back to the reporters.

I smile up at Justin. This is it. This is the moment HYPE finally gets through to the public, making them see just what is at stake.

Justin sighs as we enter the hotel. “Wow. That didn’t go as expected.”

I pull my dripping skirt away from my body as we walk, trying to ignore the stares of people in the lobby. I feel bad because the watered-down paint is probably going to stain the marbled floors. The man at the front desk stares at me in horror as I pass him, going to the elevator. Justin steps into the lift with me. I’m about to say something when someone else enters.

Are you freaking kidding?

Grant Carter smirks down at me. “Nice look, Blanc.”

Ignoring him, I press the button for my floor. When Grant doesn’t press a button, I bite back a groan. Is he really staying on the same floor?

Justin, who must be oblivious to the tension in the lift, says to me, “Thanks for inviting me up. I’m excited to see your notes for the next event.”

Before I can reply, Grant pops off. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

Justin’s forehead crinkles. “I don’t understand.”

Sweet, naïve Justin.

I say, “Ignore him. He’s just mad that we interrupted his speech.”

“Interrupted my speech? Is that what you call it? Why, I didn’t even know you were there until the paint started flying. Tell me, Blanc, did you throw it first?”

I debate if I should even reply, but find myself saying, “It wasn’t us.”

“I’m sure.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then I suppose it also wasn’t you who threw paint at the royal wedding.”

“That was different.” I snap. “They used real fur on that cape!”

He snorts again and doesn’t answer. Instead, he scrolls on his phone.

What an asshole!

The door finally freaking opens and I push past Grant, not caring that I likely got some red paint on the sleeve of his tan jacket. Justin follows me and waits as I use my phone to unlock my door. When I glance over to see where Grant went, I’m horrified to find him going into the room next door to mine.

“Of course,” I mutter. Pushing the door open, I say to Justin, “I’ll get you a towel and then I’m going to change.”

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