On My Knees (Stark International Trilogy 2)

I tap my foot until the elevator comes to a halt, and then hurry to Rachel’s desk. She doesn’t look the least bit ruffled, and I frown, confused. “Who’s he meeting with?”

“Preston. Why?”

I shake my head, but I’m secretly relieved. Preston Rhodes is the head of acquisition for Stark Applied Technology. If there was any sort of a shitstorm surrounding Damien right now, he would have rescheduled.

But then what the hell is Cass talking about?

“Syl?” Rachel is peering at me, clearly baffled. “Do you want me to tell Damien you need to see him?”

“No. It’s okay. I just—” I take a deep breath and start over. “I had a thought about the resort,” I lie. “But I’ll run it past Aiden and we’ll pull Damien in if we hit a snag.”

She gives me a quick nod, then taps her headset to answer an incoming call. I wave as I head back to the elevator, relieved, but confused.

As soon as I’m back in the real estate division, I open a web browser so I can see if there’s anything popping on the social media sites. I’m distracted from that task, though, when my phone buzzes on the desk beside me, surprising me and making me jump.

According to the caller ID, it’s Jamie. I consider letting it roll to voice mail, but I’ve never been good at blowing off my friends. So I answer the call, but start the conversation with, “I’ve only got a second.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a teen model,” she says without preamble. “That is seriously awesome.”

I freeze. Literally, I just sit there, unable to move. And I’m cold, so cold I’m trembling. That must be why they say you’re frozen, I think stupidly. And that thought is immediately followed by, You’re in shock. This is shock.

“You there?” Jamie is as chipper as always. She hasn’t picked up on my distress. Just the opposite. From the trill in her voice, I’m the new celebrity du jour.

“I’m here.” My voice sounds a million miles away. Surely she will notice. Surely she will ask me what’s wrong.

“Did you do any acting? Or just the print stuff?”

I try to make a sound, but don’t quite manage.

“Syl?” For the first time, Jamie’s voice holds a hint of concern. “You okay?”

“How did you know I modeled?” Somehow, my voice sounds reasonably normal. But I’m clutching my phone so tight my hand has gone numb.

“I saw it on the internet. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” she says, though now she’s sounding like she’s wishing she hadn’t called. “Syl, what’s up?”

“Why? Why is anyone talking about what I did when I was a teenager?”

“Come on, Syl. You’re weirding me out here.”

“Dammit, Jamie, just tell me.” I spit the words out, then immediately wince.

“Okay. Sorry.” I hear her draw a breath. “It’s really not that big a deal. And the pictures are great, so it’s not like they’re releasing crappy unairbrushed pics, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Why are they posting pictures of me at all?”

“The Jackson story, of course. He beat the shit out of Reed, and this is Hollywood so you know they’re going to plow that story to death. Today’s exposé is on you. Because, you know, you have a connection to both of them.”

I close my eyes as if to block out the truth as she continues.

“You’re working with Steele on the resort and back in the day, Reed photographed you. Right?”

“Right.” I’m not sure how I manage to say the word, because I’m pretty sure I’m about to hyperventilate.

“They’ll be even more on top of you when they realize you guys are dating, but I don’t think the press has clued in to that yet.”

“Gee. I can hardly wait.” I try to keep my voice light, but I can’t help but fear that if the press realizes I’m starchitect Jackson Steele’s girlfriend, they’ll start digging even deeper. And then they really might manage to unearth my secrets.

“Listen, don’t worry,” Jamie says. “I get that it’s weird that old pictures have resurfaced, but it’ll blow over. You’re just today’s flavor while they dig around for the real story.”

“The real story.” My words don’t sound like my own.

“Yeah, you know. Why Jackson beat up Reed in the first place.”

The numbness has spread to my entire body. Because the real story is that Jackson beat the shit out of Reed because of what he’d done to me. How he’d molested me when I was a teenager. But that’s not a story I ever want to see go public.