Page 44 of Filthy Rich

“Guy?” Octavia’s expression went from shock to bemusement, so I suppose I should be happy. All signs point to her being just as excited as I was for us to kiss again.

“I clearly wasn’t planning to feed you. . .” I gesture at the melting ice cream and Pasta Roni. “That.”

She giggles. “Thank goodness.”

“I called in for Korean delivery.”

She drops a hand on her hip. “So you do like kimchi.”

I shrug. “Not especially, but I love tteokbokki.”

“Nice.” She tosses her head. “Go get it, then.”

I jog across the room, realizing with a grin that there will be plenty of time for kissing to come, and yank the door open.

Only, it’s not the Korean.

It’s a very huffy looking man in a suit. “Mr. Adam Forrest,” I say. “I wish I could tell you how nice it was to see you, but honestly? It’s not.”

“And me.” Stu Murray—publicity and marketing—pokes his head around Adam’s shoulder. “We need to talk.”

Frigging fantastic.

Chapter 11

Octavia

“Talk to me tomorrow—at work.” Jake slams the door in the men’s faces. I can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t expect that to work. It’s definitely more of a protest than anything else.

Oh, to be a movie star in demand that can get away with that kind of nonsense.

“Open the door,” I say. “They wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important, I’m sure.”

“You would think that, but you would be wrong,” Jake says. “What they think is important is often really none of their business.” Jake’s yelling by the end, clearly trying to make sure they can hear him.

“We have the code,” Adam shouts. “We knocked as a courtesy.”

“I’m going to fire my management company,” Jake says. “You’re not supposed to have that.”

“We own that company,” Adam says. “Open. The. Door.”

Jake yanks it open, but he’s not happy. “What’s so important?”

“We don’t actually need to see you,” Stu says. “We’re here to see her, and your sister said she was here.”

Jake tries to close the door again, but they’re already walking through. “You can’t just barge in at night and demand to see her. She’s part of a band you signed, but they don’t have social media clauses.” He folds his arms. “This is inappropriate.”

“Posting our internal video feeds was inappropriate,” Stu says, “and thanks to the blueprint on the new version of the video she posted today, we found her.” He tosses his head at me. “I’m assuming that now that we have evidence of her guilt, she won’t try to deny it any more.”

“Deny it?” I shrug. “I haven’t seen this new video, and I’ve had nothing to do with posting any videos at all.”

Jake’s pulled it up, and he spins his phone around.

I take a step closer so I can see. It’s another video taken from the side—looks like a security camera, maybe. And, of course, it’s Patrice. “Someone really hates her,” I mutter.

“Someone?” Adam rolls his eyes.

Before I can defend myself, Patrice starts talking. Her voice is low, but it’s been isolated. “—course it’s fake, for ratings, right? I just wish the studio wasn’t making me the bad guy every time.”

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