“That’s true,” Demi conceded with a cheeky smile. “I’m the wind beneath your wings!”
The sisters laughed and held each other tight as they swayed to the music blaring in the nightclub. Feeling playful in her ruffle-trimmed, tangerine dress, Demi snapped her fingers and swiveled her hips to the beat of the popular song. Decorated with bronze chandeliers, plush furniture and glass vases filled with yellow carnations, the VIP lounge had a fragrant scent and chic ambience. Everyone in the room was dressed to impress and world-renowned celebrity photographer, Kenyon Blake, was on hand to capture every candid moment. MTV was filming the album release party for a three-part special about Geneviève, and there was no doubt in Demi’s mind that the docuseries, which was scheduled to air next month, would be a hit.
“Do I look okay?” Geneviève asked, smoothing the top of her braided ponytail with her right hand. “Or should I slip into the private bathroom to freshen up before I hit the stage?”
“Don’t you dare,” Demi said. “You look perfect, just like me, so don’t change a thing!”
The photographer appeared and the sisters posed for so many pictures Demi’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Geneviève came alive in front of the camera, moving and dancing as if she was on stage. Standing tall, Geneviève wowed in a sequined minidress, diamond jewelry and ankle pumps. Her outfit screamed pop star and, from the moment she’d entered the nightclub, people had been gawking at her. Demi couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Geneviève this excited and hoped nothing happened to ruin her sister’s good mood.
Spotting their mom at the bar, sipping from a champagne flute, Demi sighed in relief. Althea was deep in conversation with some well-known music executives. The CEO of Urban Beats Records thought Geneviève’s seventh studio album, Love Is, was going to be the biggest selling album of the year, and so did Demi.
Althea beckon to Geneviève, and Demi groaned inwardly. Her mom needed to give Geneviève space, not badger her about doing another world tour. Demi considered pulling Althea aside so she could speak to her privately, but struck the thought from her mind. Althea never listened to her or anyone else for that matter. Althea didn’t wait for things to happen, she made things happen, and even though she didn’t have a business degree from Harvard, she acted like she did and outsmarted record executives, event promoters and seasoned professionals on a daily basis.
Demi clasped Genevieve’s hand and squeezed it, wanting her to know she had her back. After a tumultuous year Geneviève had returned to Philadelphia for a well-deserved break. During her hiatus, she’d not only lost weight, and gotten engaged, she’d written a notebook’s worth of fresh, new songs. At her producer’s urging, she’d gone into the studio for an informal jam session and two days later the single, In His Arms, had been mysteriously leaked online. Like all of her previous songs, the acoustic track had raked up millions of downloads within hours and skyrocketed to the top of the charts.
To celebrate, Urban Beats Records had booked the largest club in Ibiza for the album release party and invited hundreds of celebrities to the Valentine’s Day event. The VIP area was filled with A-lists guests, and Demi enjoyed schmoozing with the rich and famous. Though she’d been Geneviève’s assistant for years, meeting celebrities never got old; it gave her a rush every time and inspired her to work hard to achieve her own dreams.
Colored lights and laser beams flashed around the club, illuminating the faces of the partiers on the dance floor. The willowy, female DJ was worth every penny of her six-figure fee. Demi wanted to give her social media followers a behind-the-scenes look at Geneviève’s album release party and made a mental note to visit the DJ booth to take pictures with the former reality star.
Demi checked her iPhone, realized her post “Life in Ibiza” had racked up hundreds of comments, and did a happy dance. Last year she’d launched her official website and YouTube channel and both were a hit with millennials. Obsessed with attracting more viewers and sponsors, she posted videos, pictures and beauty tutorials daily. And her new dating segment, “Ask Demi,” was the hottest thing online. Now that she’d officially resigned as Geneviève’s personal assistant, she could devote all of her time and energy to her career.
“I almost forgot to tell you,” Demi said brightly. “Mom arranged a one o’clock interview for you at a local TV station, but I remembered you saying tomorrow was your day off, so I cancelled it and booked you a massage instead.”
“Se
e why I need you? You’re the best!”
Demi laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I know you’re anxious to expand your brand, but can you stay on as my assistant for a few more months? Or at least until after the wedding?” Geneviève begged, clasping her hands. “You help keep me on track and I need you around to ensure everything runs smoothly.”
Heat warmed Demi’s cheeks. Needing a moment to collect her thoughts, she sipped her fruity, rum-infused drink. Geneviève paid her exceptionally well, and she loved the incredible perks that came with working for one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. But she was tired of living under her sister’s shadow. All her life she’d been compared to Geneviève and if she didn’t make an effort to branch out on her own, it would never stop.
“Girl, please,” Demi quipped, sweeping her long, layered bangs off her forehead. Her chin-length bob made her feel fierce, as if she could take on the world, and she planned to. “You’re so busy with your gorgeous fiancé you won’t even notice I’m gone!”
“Do you blame me? Roderick’s a dream, and I love everything about him...”
Forcing herself not to roll her eyes to the ceiling, Demi listened to her sister rave about her soul mate—for the umpteenth time that night. Demi was thrilled that her sister had found true love after several failed relationships, but she was tired of hearing how wonderful the entertainment attorney was. Roderick had proposed on Geneviève’s twenty-ninth birthday, while the couple was vacationing in Madrid, and when her sister wasn’t praising her fiancé, she was gushing about her ten-carat, diamond engagement ring. Demi liked Roderick and appreciated how he treated her sister, but she didn’t have much faith in men.
Thoughts of her ex-boyfriend consumed her mind and Demi clutched her glass so hard a searing pain stabbed her wrist. She’d met Warner Erikson at the Hampton Polo club and they’d instantly hit it off. The budget analyst was a catch, with a brilliant mind and a bright future, and she’d fallen hard for him. To her dismay, his family had disapproved of their relationship and he’d dumped her while she was on tour with Geneviève in Europe. Six months later the hurtful things he’d said during their last conversation still weighed on her mind. I’m embarrassed by your posts... Delete your YouTube page, quit doling out outrageous sex tips on your blog, and grow up...
Pressing her eyes shut, Demi refused to think about her ex-boyfriend’s insensitive comments. Focused on her career, she’d decided to take an indefinite break from dating and, even though her girlfriends thought she was being extreme, Demi was determined to keep her distance from the opposite sex—even cuties like the Saudi prince eyeballing her from across the room.
“There’s my stunning fiancée with the dazzling smile...”
Shaking her head to clear her mind, Demi finished her cocktail and smiled at Roderick. The suave New York attorney who’d swept Geneviève off her feet appeared in front of them wearing a broad grin. He was holding two plates in each hand, filled with bite-size desserts, and the delicious aromas made Demi’s mouth water and her stomach grumble.
“Sweet treats for the most beautiful women in the room,” Roderick said. “Enjoy, ladies.”
“Thanks future brother-in-law.” Demi took one of the plates and tasted the hazelnut tart. “OMG, this is so good. It’s like heaven in my mouth.”
Geneviève agreed. “Thanks, baby. You’re the best fiancé ever.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say, Mrs. Drake-to-be.”
The couple kissed passionately and, for some strange reason, tears pricked Demi’s eyes. The expression on Roderick’s face said it all: he was head-over-heels in love, and his devotion to Geneviève moved Demi deeply. More than anything, she wanted her sister to be happy, and Roderick’s calm demeanor and protective nature made it easy for Demi to give the entertainment attorney the seal of approval.
Demi glanced at her cell phone. She hadn’t posted anything in almost an hour and decided to live stream from the swank VIP lounge. Raising her iPhone in the air with one hand, she pressed the record button with the other, then waved at the screen. “Hi, friends! Happy Valentine’s Day,” she greeted in a cheerful voice. “That’s right. You guessed it. I’m here at the legendary nightclub, Infamous, in sunny Ibiza, at Geneviève’s album release party!”