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Livid, I kick the edge of the bed, ignoring the pain pulsing throughtoe

The fucking bitch is playing me

Chapter Nine

Picking up the paper, I snort and toss it in the bin So I’veout late the night before a show Who gives a shit? And how is that even gossip? It’s not like I’ anyone

Fucking Max I’m sure he is the one who left the newspaper under uy to keep out of lance at my clock and see it’s nearly three in the afternoon Shit I hadn’t meant to or expected to sleep this late

My thoughts go back to the night before That fucking text After I’d cal that she’d co for it and think she’d dropped it Either that or someone would hand it in to reception Either way, I didn’t want her knowing yet that I knew Not till I got my mind around it

My phone rings Sighing, I reach for it and press answer

“What?” I growl,up

“Where the fuck are you?” Max asks “You were supposed to be here for this interview fifteen o”

Fuck The Rolling Stone intervie could I have forgotten?

“I’ my ass into a pair of jeans “Stall them for me, will you? Is Lyndall there?”

“Yep, and she’s annoyed”

Great Just what I need

I have no idea what Max said to keep theoes s up nearly an hour late Lyndall stares daggers at me as alk out of the conference room

“What?” I mutter “I’m here, aren’t I?”