Page 50 of Irreplaceable

CHAPTERTWELVE

Ipaced the wall of windows in my suite like a caged animal. I certainly felt…trapped. Thought it had more to do with the fact that Harper had run off, and I couldn’t chase after her. Not without the paparazzi following me. Thanks to the event and all the celebrities attending, those vultures had swarmed the exits of the hotel, and there was no way I wanted them sniffing around. Talk about a disaster.

I’d gone into this evening preoccupied with thoughts of the potential transfer. And now that seemed like the least of my concerns. I’d put off this conversation long enough, and a glance at the clock told me Val would likely be awake by now.

The phone rang twice before Val picked up. “Lorenzo? How was the event?”

“Fine. But I need to tell you something.”

I could no longer ignore what had happened in Bali. And if anyone could handle a potential scandal, it was Val. This was her job, and I needed to trust her even if I knew she’d want to kill me.

She was quiet, likely sensing it was something she wouldn’t like. “Okay.”

“I met someone while I was in Bali.”

“What does that have to do with LA?”

“She’s from here, and things didn’t end on the best of terms.” Nor had tonight gone well. I adjusted myself, my balls still aching. Talk about a shit show.

Val’s restless energy coursed through the phone. I could only imagine her expression. “Explain.”

“I accused her of lying to me. Of taking pictures of me to sell later. But she acted like she didn’t know who I was.”

Val exploded. “Why the hell didn’t you mention this before?”

“Because we were dealing with Giada’s bullshit, and then news of the transfer went public, and I was mad at myself. And her—both of them,” I clarified, dragging a hand through my hair. “Fuck. At the time, I felt like a fool for being so trusting.”

“Tell me more about the pictures.” Val’s tone was razor-sharp. “Could they be damaging to your…reputation? Please tell me this isn’t Giada 2.0.”

“No. No.” I shook my head quickly. At least, I didn’t think so. I hated that I even had to wonder, but that was the dark side of fame. People didn’t care about me; they cared about what I could do for them. And they would twist the situation to their advantage.

“Do you have your laptop handy?” I asked. “I’m emailing the images to you now.”

I scrolled through the images on the card until I got to the ones of me. I had to admit, Harper was talented. The way she framed the shots really drew the viewer in. And the colors and textures… They were all so vibrant and arresting. It was part of the reason I’d gotten sucked into looking at the photos on her camera in the first place.

When I closed my eyes, it was as if I’d been transported back there. I could still smell the scent of jasmine on the breeze that had blown through the house. I’d picked up the camera, excited about our adventure while also dreading our goodbye. In my haste, I’d pressed a button, and an image had popped up on the display screen. It had captivated me. I hadn’t been able to resist peeking through the rest, seeing Harper’s view of Bali. At least until…

“It’s a good shot. Really good.” Val seemed to be mulling something over. “And a few of you playing soccer with the locals. These would be perfect for the foundation.”

“I know,” I said, her question giving me an idea.

“Is that all?”

I wished that was all there was to it. “Well, that’s it as far as the photos are concerned.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed. “I lost my temper when I found them. I stole her SD card and destroyed her camera.” I gnashed my teeth, those memories fading as the image of our last day together reared its ugly head.

Val’s silence was scarier than if she’d yelled. I almost wanted her to yell, but all I heard was a hushed “Cazzo,” from the other end of the line.

“Yeah. Shit.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I should probably tell you how Harper and I met…” I launched into a quick recap, my stomach filling with dread the longer I talked. The more I said, the worse it sounded.

“You should’ve called me immediately,” she said in a clipped tone. “What’s her name?”

“Harper Allen,” I said. “She’s a film location scout for Rain Shadow Productions. But…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I honestly don’t think she knew who I was.”

Val laughed and laughed, finally realizing I hadn’t joined her. “How could she not? Your face is on billboards. Even if she isn’t a soccer fan, there’s no way she could miss you in those cologne ads.”

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