Page 132 of Cherry Beats

Presley’s eyes narrowed and held back a smile. “Sorry,” he whispered, in a most un-Presley like way.

He wasn’t the kind of man to apologise over something so trivial. I expected him to throw a sarcastic comment my way, let the air spin his smooth words around before he twisted me up in another one of his spells.

There was no sarcasm that morning.

No spark in his eyes.

If I looked closely, it almost looked like regret.

He regrets telling me about his father.

I was about to open my mouth to say something profound, but then there was a frantic knock on the door. Presley took a step back to open it with his free hand, and in marched Julia with a slick little MacBook tucked under her arm.

“Have you seen?” she asked breathlessly, her usual air of confidence gone, replaced by panic as she glanced between the two of us frantically.

“Seen what?” Presley asked, brows creased together.

Julia blew out a heavy breath. “Janey Dominic. The snake has finally made her move. You’re everywhere, guys, and it isn’t pretty.”

* * *

I stood there with my hand over my mouth, watching the laptop screen in front of me.

Janey Dominic stared back at me, her smug, too-perfect, vindictive face sitting in front of a full professional set-up with lighting that made her glow. The need to reach through the screen, grab her perfect skin and tear it off with sharp nails surged through me, tamed only by my stunned mind.

“Welcome, viewers,” Janey said through a bright white smile as she shuffled in her seat and let her sparkly eyes shine into the camera. “I’m Janey Dominic, reporter forThe Daily Times, and I’m here today to offer up a little treat from the entertainment world.”

She smoothed down her fitted burgundy dress—one that showed off her toned arms and perfect figure. Shuffling her chair closer, she played the part of the excited reporter well, her hands placed in her lap as she let her head bob from side to side to build the anticipation.

A picture of Presley suddenly appeared on the screen as he walked out of the club that fateful morning, before he lost his temper and launched himself at the fan who’d taken his jacket.

“Once the most eligible bachelor in Britain—if not the world—Presley West of the band of the moment Youth Gone Wild is now officially off the market,” she sang, her voice over the image.

Presley’s face was quickly replaced by a picture of me. A picture in my regular life, leaving BB’s one afternoon, my face make-up free and hair scraped back. My mouth hung loosely as I crossed the road, eyes tired from lack of sleep and my skin pale. I looked the exact opposite of what someone like Presley deserved.

“As we all know, Presley West chose Paris to declare his love for cherry-haired bartender of his home town, Tessa Lisbon, live on stage during Youth Gone Wild’s Devil’s Doormat Tour. The internet has been in outrage ever since, wondering how someone like Miss Lisbon happened to snatch up the most naturally beautiful man on the planet.” The image of me faded away, exposing Janey’s face as she raised her hands in the air and shrugged sweetly. “Even I can admit that. I’m a woman, and he ishot.”Her eyes narrowed, and she gave a cheeky pout before she let her hands fall back into her lap.

“Some have supported Presley, thinking it’s sweet how he stuck to his roots and ended up with a woman he’d known before his golden locks and charming smile became more famous than The Harry Potter franchise. Others, not so much. Nothing splits the nation like a hot man being taken off the market, right? But let’s face it, it’s not like he didn’t try out a hundred more famous faces before he went back to this home-grown working girl.”

Presley’s body language spoke volumes when I took a glance at him. His legs were parted, hands balled into fists by his side, his face paler than I’d ever seen it.

I forced myself to turn back to look at Janey—nausea rising in my tight chest.

“Some of you out there happen to think that this little love affair that’s suddenly come to light is nothing more than a publicity stunt, designed to soften Presley West’s image after his recent public temper tantrum, where he attacked an innocent man after a night of undoubted debauchery and excessive drinking.”

A picture of Presley fighting filled the screen, his face angry and twisted. As soon as it arrived, it disappeared, and Janey leaned closer to the camera, her eyes sparkling with victory.

“Well, I’m here to tell you, ladies and gents, that those of you who thought it was all a stunt were absolutely right.” Her slow grin grew, and I found myself turning to Presley again. He was looking at me. His eyes filled with unspoken apologies.

I stared at him, numb, as Janey’s words filled the room.

“Over two and a half years ago, I happened to be one of the reporters asked to go to Youth Gone Wild’s first official live gig as a signed band. It was an intimate, small venue, used for the sole purpose of putting the members in front of people who mattered so the word would spread of their talent for music. Standard practice in this business.”

Presley stared at me, his eyes turning sadder.

“After their performance, a few of us were granted access to interview the band, one on one.” When I turned back to the screen, Janey Dominic was smiling like she could see me—like she was smiling right at me. “And here, viewers, I have exclusive, never before seen footage of Presley West confessing his plans for the future with Miss Lisbon. Hold onto your hearts, viewers. You’re about to see a side of Mr West you didn’t know existed.”

Grainy footage filled the screen, a phone camera videoing the exchange between Presley and Janey as they sat opposite each other, leaning over a small coffee table, the camera angled up to their faces.

---