wait,” she said, still staring daggers at me. “Your little slut and I were just having a conversation.”
My jaw dropped open. “Who are you calling a slut, clown?” I could feel the adrenaline rushing into my veins. I wasn’t normally a fighting person, but nobody was going to call me a slut but me … and possibly Jessica, but I only permitted that because I knew she meant me no harm. That was not the case with this witch.
Her nostrils flared. “Did you just call me a clown?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said sweetly, before getting all threatening on her. “Because where I come from, that’s what we call hags who wear the wrong lipstick to parties. Clown. ”
Alexander put a hand on each of our arms. “Ladies … I believe, perhaps, that this is a conversation better had behind closed doors, don’t you think?”
By now the crowd that had been at the door had migrated over and was gathering around us.
I backed up as much as I could, dragging Alexander with me, making sure no one could get behind me. The last thing I needed was the paparazzi taking pictures of my backside drama right along with the front-side mess.
My plan for a quick escape was going right down the tubes, so my brain worked like mad trying to come up with a Plan B. I had to get through at least two cameramen, their accompanying journalists, and about ten other people who’d wandered in from the party now. But my only real problem was going to be Jacqueline. She was like a dog with a bone, and she wasn’t going to just let me just walk out.
“Who’s the young lady, Alex?” asked one of the journalists. He was a younger guy, someone I might have found cute if he weren’t about to expose me for being the slut at the party.
I glanced at Alexander, who was smiling tightly. “This is Rose. She was just on her way out. She has work to attend to.”
“Always the slavedriver, eh, Mr. Blackstone,” commented one of the guests who’d joined the group. Everyone had a good laugh at that one.
Heh, heh. If you only knew! I thought to myself. Things hadn’t gotten ugly yet, but I could see the potential for disaster just hovering in the air above us.
Jacqueline was the only one who didn’t see the humor in the good-natured teasing coming from the onlookers. Her nostrils flared and her head tilted to the side.
“Oh, so she works for you?” A fake, bitter smile scarred her face. “How interesting. I don’t believe I’ve ever met her before.” She held out a heavily-ringed hand at me. “Nice to meet you, Rose …? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”
I could tell the reporters were practically foaming at the mouth over this little introduction. Obviously, Jacqueline was totally tuned into what made them tick, and she was giving them a great show of revealing my “work” for Mr. Blackstone.
I lifted my chin, refusing to be cowed. I took her hand in a firm grip and shook it hard. “You didn’t catch it because I hadn’t given it yet. My name is Rose DuPont.”
“Lovely to meet you, Rose,” she said. “And what exactly do you do for Mr. Blackstone?” She smiled knowingly, thinking she had me with this one.
I glanced at Alexander, but all he did was stare at her with murder in his eyes, his jaw muscle twitching like mad. I was glad there were witnesses there so he wasn’t too tempted to kill her with his bare hands. He sure looked capable and willing at that moment.
I decided the best thing to do was to diffuse the situation as much as I could, much as I wanted to call her out for that lipstick in front of this group. My brain raced to come up with a job for myself. The only thing I’d ever done before was work in a yogurt shop and go to college.
I said the first thing I could think of that wasn’t about yogurt. “I’m doing PR work for Mr. Blackstone. We were just discussing some ideas in his
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