This isn’t how I wanted people to know my name.

Damian’s trying to be helpful, I know that, and I’m sure, over the next weeks or however long this lasts, he’s going to be. Right now, though, I wish he were a little steadier on his feet.

We eventually decide that the best course of action is to write up a statement, phone it in to a couple of people to make sure it sounds good, and then call a press conference. Damian asks me if I want him to say anything, but I tell him this is something I should really do alone.

So, before the late news, we’ve finished up a draft that sounds reasonable, and I give a call to my agent and a couple of other people whose calls I haven’t returned until now. With a few minor changes here and there—primarily cosmetic, nothing to change the substance—we put the thing in motion.

Me, I have no idea how to call a press conference. I don’t even know where one would start with that.

This is where Damian comes in handy.

Within an hour of finishing up the statement, I’m walking out the front gate of my driveway to a podium that someone, although I couldn’t tell you who, has already set up.

Damian stands behind me to show his support, but that’s the most I would allow.

There’s any number of possibilities of how this thing is going to end up going and I don’t want to drag him down with me. He’s innocent in all this.

“Good evening,” I say into the microphone, and try to keep my eyes fully open despite the multiple bright lights in my face. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, I have, up until earlier today, been the victim of blackmail. The man responsible for this has been arrested and charges are being filed. Judging by the response in the media to the release of these pictures, there has been some outcry regarding the state of my body in the photographs, and I would like to thank all of you who’ve shown your support and…” I trail off.

…the state of my body.

I clear my throat.

“I appreciate your concern. I don’t have too much more to say before I answer a few of your questions directly, but I do want to say that what I went through is not uncommon. It’s not rare, it’s not in sharp decline, it’s not a relic of the draconian past. This happens every day to thousands of women. Thousands. Tonight, the world is talking about me because I’m in these photos and I’m acting in a new movie, but what I think we should all be talking about a lot more often is how we can work to stop the cycle of abuse and protect these women who are, so many of them, afraid for their lives. Not all of them make it out on their own. I think the least we can do is try to make it easier for these women to find their freedom. Thank you. I will now take your questions.”

There are so many flashes of light and shouting voices, that for a few seconds, I’m just frozen there, overwhelmed by the sensory input.

My heart is racing as I point to one of the reporters.

“How long were you being blackmailed?” he asks, “and are there more pictures?”

“To my knowledge, there are no more pictures, although if there are, I would imagine the police will take care of them,” I answer.

“Take care of them?” the reporter asks.

“Evid

ence,” I answer. “I would imagine they’d take care of anything like that as new evidence, although I certainly don’t speak for the police and am largely unfamiliar with their procedure in this kind of situation.”

Someone else shouts, “Do you think this is going to affect your ability to find work in the entertainment business?”

I have to smile.

“I don’t know,” I answer. “I guess that depends on what kind of mood Hollywood is in that day.”

A few of the reporters snicker, and the rest of them shout follow-up questions.

“When were these pictures taken?”

“Were you involved in a sexual relationship with the man who blackmailed you, if so, when did it end, or are the two of you still an item?”

That’s my favorite question of the bunch, but I’m not about to answer it.

Calm, cool, and only tell them what you’re prepared to tell them and what you have to tell them. That’s the advice Damian gave me when we finished the draft.

When one reporter asks me if I have any scars, and if so, would the press be allowed to photograph them, I find it a little difficult to remain calm and cool and as far as only telling him what I’m prepared to tell him and what I have to tell him…there’s a lot I’d like to tell him.

The press conference drags on and I answer questions as best I can.

Tags: Claire Adams Billionaire Romance
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