Your One True Love (The Bennett Family 8)

“Then do your best to represent me.” My tone allows for no argument, and none comes. Excellent. I’m not in the mood for negotiations.

“Sure. Call us if you or Caroline needs anything,” Marcel adds. I barely keep myself from lashing at Marcel. Damn it, I have no right to be jealous.

“Keep me posted.” I click off and return to the room. I smile at the sight of Caroline on her belly, spread-eagled. She messed up half the bed in the span of minutes.

I have my laptop here, but the sound of my clicking on the keyboard could wake her up. Sitting in the armchair, I p

ull out my smartphone and start typing on the touchscreen, which makes no sound at all. Halfway through answering my emails, I come across one that chills me.

Subject: How the hell did this happen?

Message: This was my daughter’s birthday!!!! I don’t want her exposed to the fucking paparazzi and you promised 100% privacy. I’m never giving you my business again.

Inside the email are leaked photographs from the event I hosted yesterday for the drummer of a rock band. They made it onto all the major gossip sites.

I lean back in the armchair, dragging a hand down my face. My unique selling proposition for my famous clients is 100% privacy.

When it comes to the media, I’ve had years to cut my teeth.

Right after college, I did small consultancy projects, but I spent a lot of time enjoying the fame the Bennett name brought me, even though I hadn’t earned a lick of it. I’m not proud of it. Bennett Enterprises was such a draw for the media that the press hadn’t minded which Bennett they got a snapshot of. Sebastian, Logan, and Pippa, and even Christopher and Max, who joined the company later, stayed out of the limelight. But Blake and I were young, and the pull was far too tempting for both of us.

Eventually, the press wasn’t satisfied with reporting on the success of Bennett Enterprises. They started digging for dirt, anything to tear my siblings down from the pedestal. That was when Blake and I pulled out of the limelight, but when the media gets no stories, they fabricate them.

Blake and I made it a point to kill fake stories before they hit the media. Our siblings had enough on their hands; they didn’t have to deal with this kind of crap too. We were successful most of the time, and the exercise brought me invaluable media contacts.

Something good came out of that chaotic time. In my business, I had my first famous clients via the contacts I made in those years when I rubbed elbows with models, TV presenters, even actors and actresses. I have enough experience with the press to know how to avoid it and offer utmost privacy. Word of mouth from satisfied clients brings me an insane amount of business. Negative word of mouth can just as well disrupt everything.

And I hate not delivering on my promise. This was a kid’s tenth birthday, for God’s sake. The client has every right to be livid. If this had been one of my nieces or nephews, I’d be livid too.

How did these photos leak? There were no paparazzi inside the venue, and I made sure the surroundings were clear as well. The guests were close friends only, and those know the drill.

My mind is spinning as I set to work and do some damage control. I check on Caroline periodically and chuckle every time because she tosses and turns in the strangest positions. She’s exactly as messy a sleeper as I remember.

My bed will smell like her tonight. That’s something to look forward to.

Chapter Seven

Caroline

The room is dark when I wake up, with a small beacon of light at the far end. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I pat the nightstand until I find the light switch for the lamp and flick it on.

“You’re up.” The beacon of light was Daniel’s phone. He’s sitting in the armchair at the foot of the bed, watching me with a smile. My backpack is on the floor next to him.

“Yeah.” My voice is rough, the inside of my mouth gummy. “What time is it?”

“A little past ten.”

“Wow, I slept the entire day?”

“You woke up in between but fell right back asleep.” Something in his stiff position clues me in that he’s been sitting for a long while.

“Have you... were you here the entire time?”

“Yeah. I was afraid you’d get worse.”

And cue the swooning.

“But your activity this evening—”