Page 77 of Nothing to Do

“Damn. Damn. Damn!”

“What about what releases?”

“Everyone had to sign a release,” Struan said. “Allowing footage shot or pictures taken to be used for marketing, advertisement, etc. It gave us the right to use anything shot in any way we wanted.”

“Oh, that’s right.” A glimmer from her first morning there flickered in her mind. “I didn’t sign that.”

Hope speared Magnus a few steps forward. “You didn’t?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But does it matter? Won’t they just blur me out?”

“I didn’t sign a release,” Roxie said, holding Zairn’s forearm at her clavicle. “Neither did Casanova.”

“Isn’t this just a disgusting back-alley retreat,” Zane said and exhaled. “If you want to stop them using that footage—”

“We threaten them with a lawsuit.” Magnus’s energy skyrocketed. “Tell them our richest, most influential sponsors, will not comply with the footage being aired.”

That might be good for keeping Roman squeaky clean, but it did feel kind of underhanded.

“We won’t sue them,” Roxie said. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t have to sue them,” Magnus said, glee shimmering in his aura. “The threat will be enough. They know you’re connected to the Colliers, everyone on the planet knows that.” Uh, no, she hadn’t. Was Hollywood and celebrity always so Machiavellian? “This is good. This is good. The threat will be enough!”

“I’m not threatening anyone.” Roxie’s care-o-meter was registering pretty low, she couldn’t say hers was much different. “You overestimate how much we care about Roman’s career.”

“You care about the careers of others though,” Struan said. “His staff, the crew on the show, this is a juggernaut, you know that, it’s never about just one man’s livelihood.”

Roxie’s head fell back on Zairn in almost surrender.

“Don’t you have news to announce?” Magnus asked the couple. “Something we can tell the press to divert their attention to something else.”

“No,” Roxie said, unhooking Zairn’s arm to sit and snatch her glass from the end table. “We’re not doing that. Absolutely no way.”

“Agreed.” Zairn went back to the bar. “We won’t be a part of whatever BS you feed them. We won’t talk to them. Won’t out this… farce. But we won’t use our relationship to bolster your cause or disguise the truth, to raise up a man uninterested in raising up others.”

Or even maintaining the status quo. Roman didn’t know what was good for him, sure, but the expression “being one’s own worst enemy” had never been truer than it was with him.

Zane looked frayed. Tired. He dropped against the back of the couch, eyes closed. And just like Roxie and Zairn did with each other on instinct, she prioritized her man over everything else.

She sipped her drink and handed it off to Roxie, then offered a one-armed hug.

“Are you leaving?” Roxie asked, drinking from her glass and giving hers to Zairn as he joined her on the couch.

“We’ve done all we can do here.” She got up and went around the table to open both hands to Zane. “Will you take me home, please?”

Once there, she wouldn’t let him leave again. They could talk, make love, whatever he wanted, but she would not let Roman’s mess weigh on him any more than it already had. His kind heart brought everyone to that beautiful place, now he had to be worrying he’d damned them all.

TWENTY-FIVE

HONOLULU.

Gorgeous, glamorous, bustling. They’d spent little time in the city on their stopover on the way to Dyce’s island. And although they arrived in the afternoon that day, their itinerary didn’t allow much wiggle room for sightseeing.

Dinner was next, and she’d just got out of the shower when knocking on her door diverted her from the lotion bottle.

It would be Alessia. Everyone had been given their own room. Great for privacy, not so great for security. Wasn’t it easier to keep everyone safe if the group were watching over each other too?

Tucking in her towel, she opened the door, smiling. Except, surprise, Roxie was the one waiting there.

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