Page 40 of Love on the Byline

“Glad to have you here,” he finally said, relaxing a little.“And thanks for stepping in last-minute.”

“Glad I was available. Are you expecting anyone else?” Therewas a gentle lilt to Rory’s English that he couldn’t place.

“Hans Visser, the nutritionist-slash-chef will be here laterwith supplies for the night.”

“Description?”

“Uh, well, he’s white. About five-eleven, wiry frame, spikyblond hair. Fading Scandinavian accent.”

Rory nodded. “Anyone else know you’re here?”

“No.”

“That’s good.” He looked around the entranceway. “I’ll pokearound a bit, get a lay of the land, and then park myself somewhere. I’ll needyour number.”

They exchanged digits. “I assume Pierce filled you in on thesituation.”

“Not the details,” Rory said, his gaze sweeping the space.“I’m on a need-to-know. If I were coming in on a more permanent basis, I’d needeverything. For now, I’m good.”

Ollie nodded. When he returned to the deck, he felt likehe’d waded into a tarpit, the air was so thick. Bran, Noelia, and Clark werehuddled around a tablet.

“Jesus Christ,” Bran muttered. “This shit was buried reallydeep, in an archived folder.”

“Not deep enough. Thankfully, they haven’t been released,”Noelia said. “Yet.”

He almost didn’t want to look, but curiosity got the betterof him. He recognized Bran right away, as well as the walls of Bran’s bedroom.He also recognized the redhead bent over the edge of Bran’s four-poster bed.

“Who is she?” Clark asked.

“Sara Hutchins,” he replied. “She’s done a few things, smallparts, here and there.” He remembered her from one of the Malibu parties, eagerto ingratiate herself to her host. A little too eager, but then most of thatcrowd was.

“Well, this would put her on everyone’s radar,” Clark said.

“And kill her career in the process,” Noelia added.

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Bran began to pace the patio.“How is this legal? It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“It’s not legal, not the hack. But sex sells, and someoutlets will twist themselves into pretzels to claim photos like these werelegally obtained from an anonymous source.”

“Your college friend, the reporter, do you think she hadanything to do with this?” Noelia asked.

The question made his head snap around to her. “No,” he saidthrough clenched teeth.

She eyed him before looking at Bran.

“No, Ollie’s right. She’s too fond of riding her moral highhorse to do something this low.”

Noelia held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll trust you bothon this, since you have history. That means Sonja’s using the interview as anexcuse to run these, or these are her insurance that we’ll give her what shewants.”

“Which is?”

“Me.” Bran’s voice was flat. He turned away from them, hishands on his head.

Ollie ran a hand over his face. Sometimes, he hated thisbusiness. Most times. “This is so wrong.”

“Our Bran is on the mainstage, now,” Clark added. “His expectationof privacy is…” Gesturing with his fingers, he made a poof sound.

“I don’t get why this is acceptable.”

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