Page 94 of You Rock My World
Has Nadine seen this? Could she recognize me from these photos? The only person who knows for sure is Grant, and Dorian has sworn him to secrecy.
I reassure myself that my boss is away at a conference, too busy with meetings and presentations to be scouring tabloid headings. And even if she saw the news, Nadine’s never been the type to micromanage. But this isn’t a minor PR hiccup—it’s a full-blown media frenzy. If Nadine recognizes me, will I still have a job when she comes back next week?
I push the thought of impending unemployment from my mind and keep torturing myself with new headlines.
Who Is the Woman Who Stole Rian Phoenix’s Heart?one article proclaims in bold, accusatory letters.
Rockstar’s Secret Romance—Exclusive Insights Inside!promises another.
The sheer volume of speculation is overwhelming. Some theories are so outlandish that I want to laugh. One story claims I’m a European model Dorian was linked to seven years ago. A different tabloid swears I’m an old flame from his pre-fame days, resurfacing at the perfect moment to reignite our passion.
I chuckle inwardly, thinking that Dorian’s high-school girlfriend, Sandy Parker, and her mom, who still sends Dorian Christmas cards, must be really pumped about that last wild guess.
Victor’s voice cuts through my haze. “Dorian, you can’t let the press control the story. It’ll only grow bigger if we don’t get ahead of it,” his agent insists, his tone all business. “You need to go public with her identity before the gossip sites decide for you.”
Dorian leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t want to?”
“Then be prepared for a media circus.” Victor’s eyes narrow. “They won’t stop until they uncover who she is. It’s better if it comes from you.”
As they discuss, the million images and videos create a vortex in my mind—part longing, part regret, part I don’t even fucking know. Each pixelated image, each slowed-down video clip, feels like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. How long until someone sharpens the resolution enough to make me recognizable?
Dorian’s gaze meets mine across the table, his eyes concerned but also determined as he turns to his agent. “I’ll handle it. But on my terms. Not theirs.”
Victor pleads to the room next. “Do you all agree with this?”
As no one replies, I realize he must be the only one in this office who doesn’t know it’s me.
I’m sure Bailey knows. She keeps glancing between Victor and me, her eyes widening each time they land on my face. Tessa’s gaze is more assessing and narrowed as she studies me. But she must know, too. I can’t tell if she approves or not. She just makes me nervous, as usual.
Grant, of course, knows everything. He was backstage when it happened and saw us together under the stage. But this morning, he seems less incensed than he was last night. As he chimes in with his thoughts, I get the sense that he’s relieved the “mystery woman” storyline has overshadowed the falling-fixture incident. It means he can deal with the equipment security issue more privately, without it becoming the headline that could ruin his production company and put the technicians who worked on the tour so tirelessly out of a job. He informed us earlier that they’re still investigating what caused the light to fall.
My suspicions that everyone knows are confirmed when another minute passes and none of them reply to Victor. We’re all tight-lipped and avoiding eye contact, but I can still feel their eyes on me as I struggle to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give myself away.
Dorian clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “Like I said, I’ll handle it,” he repeats, his tone leaving no room for argument. “But we’ll do it my way, on my timeline. Understood?”
Everyone nods. And maybe that’s it. I’m safe. I won’t lose my job over this. Nadine won’t recognize me as the mystery woman locking lips with her star client. Victor didn’t.
The positive attitude lasts all of five minutes before the negativity pushes back in, reminding me that my entire career is hanging by a thread. Dizziness hits me, and I stand abruptly. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I don’t wait for a response before stepping out of the room, barely making it to the hallway before my breath starts coming too fast. I brace one palm on the wall to steady myself as footsteps sound behind me.
It’s Dorian. He leans on the opposite side of the hall, watching me with those piercing eyes that see right through me. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I just needed a moment.”
He tilts his head, his presence both comforting and unnerving. “Right, we haven’t hada moment… uh…since last night.”
Heat rises in my cheeks as I remember the feel of his lips on mine, the way his hands gripped my waist, and how he ground against me. At the end of the concert, I changed into unrecognizable clothes and hightailed it home. The last time we’ve been alone we were kissing. And now Dorian looks like he wants a repeat show.
He pushes away from the wall, closing the distance between us. “I never got to tell you, but I really loved kissing you.” His breath tickles my ear, and my skin prickles with awareness, with recognition, as he grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips. Dorian plants a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’d like to do it again soon.” His voice is thick with something that feels too big for this narrow hallway.
I scoff, overwhelmed. “I don’t know, Dorian, it almost feels like if we kiss again, the world will explode. The Big One will come and split LA in half or something.”
Dorian raises his eyebrows. “So dramatic.”
He’s about to add more when Tessa clears her throat behind us. We jump apart like criminals hearing sirens approaching.
“There’s something both of you need to see,” his assistant says, her tone serious.
