Page 82 of Back in Black

“That wasn’t entirely the plan, but yeah, I already know about her. What of it?”

Audrey’s mouth fell open. “You knew?”

“It’s not a big deal, Audrey. Lots of public figures have publicists.”

“But according to sources—”

“What sources?”

She had no idea. “—This woman isn’t just publicizing him, but rather trying to change his image entirely.”

Brett shrugged. “Trust me, that’s never going to happen. Drew is who he is, and most people either love him or despise him. But I can tell you this: the fans worship him. He made this sport. Hell, some believe heisthe sport. In my opinion, the SBC is way off in how they’re handling this. It’s largely due to Drew’s image that we’ve gotten the recognition we have now. Far as I’m concerned, other than the personal conflict you witnessed, Drew Black is fine as is.”

Audrey pulled herself together. “How can you say that?”

“I know him better than you do.”

Smug, she asked, “Well, did you know that he’ssleepingwith the publicist? No matter how you look at it, that makes for a huge conflict of interest.”

His exasperation was made clear with a drawn-out sigh. “Come on, Audrey. Why shouldn’t two mature adults get together if that’s what they want to do? Their relationship isn’t hurting anyone, and if you ask me, it’s no one’s business.”

No one’s business. He’d included her in that statement. But how could she ignore this? “Millie was there, and she got the whole thing on her recorder, including the fact that Mr. Black might be replaced within the organization.”

Brett straightened. “I don’t believe that.”

“She says her sources are secure. She . . . well, she interviewed the publicist, too. That’s the basis of her story, that Mr. Black corrupts everyone around him and even seduced a woman who he knew was off-limits to him.”

That brought out a guffaw. “I met Gillian Noode. Trust me, she’s not a weak woman easily seduced. If she’s sleeping with Drew, it’s because that’s what she wants to do, not because she’s a victim.” He shook his head. “And again, Audrey, how is that hurting anyone? Why does WAVS even care what a publicist does, with or without Drew Black?”

Audrey tried to drum up her earlier convictions. Just weeks ago, she’d have had her verbal ammunition loaded and ready to fire away. But now . . . now she saw both sides, and it made everything so much more complicated.

Her voice rose with the effort to make sense of it all. “The publicist is defending Mr. Black, trying to make him look better than he is. She and the SBC organization are hoping to hide his faults and cover up his brutalities. But Brett, you can’t just put a pretty face on the ugly truth.”

“What ugly truth are we talking about?”

Oh, God, the way he asked that . . . She did not want their growing relationship to come to a staggering halt, but how could she live with herself if she did nothing, and someone else suffered because of it?

Appearing almost saddened by her attitude, Brett reached for her hand. “Come on, Audrey. Tell me what you have against the SBC, and then we can talk about what really matters.”

How did he do that, cut straight to the core of her feelings? He wanted the truth, and . . .

Why not? Talking about it was so painful, but it’d be the easiest way to make him understand why she couldn’t just switch alliances. She needed resolution.

Audrey looked at his big hand holding hers with care. Brett was different; she was convinced of that. But one good example didn’t change the norm.

She met his gaze—and bared her soul. “Because of the SBC, my nineteen-year-old brother was killed. And believe me, Brett, that’s more than enough to make anyone realize what a horrible, bloodthirsty sport it is.”

DREW watched Gillian part the curtains with care. For hours now, throughout the night and into the early morning, she’d been pacing with anxiety. Every time she peeked outside, he knew it was with the hope that the nosy reporters had left so that she could escape the invasion of her privacy, the scandal . . . and him.

One by one throughout the long night, the fighters had split, and a few of the reporters had followed them. Only a few die-hard scandal-seekers had remained, but given the relief in Gillian’s shoulders, even those must have closed up their tents finally.

“They’re gone.” Face set in lines of determination, she started to hurry past him, but Drew caught her.

“Where are you going?”

For a heartbeat, she looked so lost, his guts knotted. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “Home, I guess. I need to get hold of Fran, I need to do some damage control, I need—”

His phone rang, and it so startled Gillian that she yelped.

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