“I don’t know…”
“Well, I hope you won’t be in New York next week. And since I still have you on my team for a couple more days,” he handed me a pink envelope, “I want you to accompany the rest of the group to a launch party Friday. It’s for Selena Ross’ new perfume.”
“Sir, you know I don’t do—”
“That wasn’t a request. The town car will pick you up at nine sharp. The theme is A Night at the Oscars,” he waved his hand across the air.
“Mr. Maxwell, it’s May. The Oscars were in February.”
“Nine sharp Melody,” he shooed me out of his office.
Chapter 8
Matt
Was Melody Carter really blushing? Or was she just embarrassed for me? Why am I still thinking about this?
I slipped on my shades and stepped out of the car.
“Matt Sterling! Matt Sterling! Are you and Selena working on a pre-nup? Is she pregnant? Are you secretly g*y? How long do you think you two will last? When is the wedding?” the paparazzi shouted as I walked towards Trump SoHo.
“Matt! Turn and look at us will ya? Have you met her parents? How’s the sex? Do you have plans for the honeymoon? Do you think she’s having an affair with Bradley Cooper? Where’s Selena right now? Are you sleeping with Emma Stone? Take off your shirt!”
I took off my shades once I entered the building. I followed my small entourage to the elevators and waited until the doors closed.
“I thought I said I wanted to keep this location private Joan!” I snapped.
“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t notify anyone but Miss Ross.”
Ugh, Selena!
“Well, next time just give me a heads up if Selena is notified of anything.”
“Yes sir,” she looked upset.
The doors opened and we waited for a man to unlock the door of a penthouse suite. Security entered the room first.
Once they gave the all-clear, my stylist searched for an electrical outlet and Joan instructed for me to sit by the window.
“The interviewer was specifically told not to ask any questions about Miss Ross. I told her to stick to questions regarding your films and philanthropy,” Joan said. “Would you like some water before I let her in?”
“A glass of wine.”
Joan disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of red wine. She brushed a lint roller across my shoulders and snapped her fingers at the stylist.
“He doesn’t like his hair this way when he wears open collars,” she said. “Can you add a little bit more volume up top?”
The stylist rushed over and played in my hair. She and Joan went back and forth a couple of times before deciding it was perfect.
“You can let her in,” Joan nodded at security.
A red-haired woman came in and smiled warmly at Joan and I. “Good afternoon, I’m Miss Turner. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sterling.”
“Pleasure’s all mine Miss Turner,” I reached out and shook her hand.
“As you know, I’m with Instyle magazine,” she took a seat and tapped her recorder. “And I’m here to find out more about your charities.”
I wonder if Melody Carter is a natural redhead…
“Ask away Miss Turner.”
“How involved are you with your dance school here in New York?”
How many times have I answered this question? How many different ways can the same question be answered? Ugh. I really should give Joan “the look” and have this woman escorted out of the room. Nonetheless, every publication has a different spin I guess...
“I’m very involved. I attend all of the recitals and drop in to see the rehearsals from time to time. I also donate two million a year to better the facility.”
“I see. And what about—”
“Sir! Miss Ross is causing a commotion outside the door,” one of the security guards bellowed. “Should we let her in?”
No!
“Yes,” I plastered a smile on my face and kept my eyes on Miss Turner. “Finish your question please.”
“What about the scholarships? Is it true that you give each graduate a $75,000 scholarship for college?”
“Yes. I’ve partnered with a group of sponsors to ensure that students have post graduate assistance throughout their college careers.”
“And if they choose not to go to college?”
“They are made to submit a four year plan to the board, and we award them an amount that we see fit.”
“Okay, now how do—”
“Good afternoon baby,” Selena sat in my lap and pressed her lips against mine.
“Selena,” I reluctantly kissed her back.
“I’m Selena Ross,” she held her hand out to Miss Turner.
“I’m Miss Turner,” she smiled, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
“Miss Turner, would you excuse me and my fiancé for about twenty minutes? I’m sorry to interrupt your interview but this is very important.”
“Not a problem at all,” she quickly grabbed her recorder and left the room.
“Joan,” Selena frowned. “I’ll come out when I’m done here.”
Joan looked at me and turned away. She helped the stylist gather her things and signaled for security to leave.