Rogue Beast (The Rourkes #12) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,13
was your friend (or your love) just wants something from you.
“He’s a royal. It’s right up his alley.”
Garrett looked like a regular guy in a T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. He works construction in his family’s business. I just can’t picture him as a royal doing photo ops and cutting ribbons. He’s too rough and tough looking for that, which is partly why I thought he was my guard. I close my eyes, embarrassed at the memory. My tough, hot, sexy AF guard. Not.
He fixed my shelf.
No, I’m not going down this path.
“I’ll go solo,” I say. “Or maybe I’ll bring a friend.” I’m only an hour and a half away from where I grew up in Summerdale, New York. I could ask one of my hometown girl friends. “A woman in a tux at my side could deflect the Colton gossip.” I stifle a laugh.
“Harper,” Dana says in an exasperated tone.
I often exasperate her. We’re at cross purposes—I work hard to keep my life private, and she works hard to keep me in the public eye. She knew what she signed up for with me.
She continues. “I looked up these Rourkes. They’re hot as hell.”
At least one of them is. Still not going there.
“I’m not using him for a photo op,” I say.
Dana continues as if I haven’t spoken. “And even though Garrett’s in the background of this wedding picture floating around—wearing a black tux, I might add—it’s clear he’s superior eye candy with all that muscle.”
Like a bodyguard. Then I get an idea. “I have Joe now. It’s perfect. He’s going with me anyway as my guard, so I’ll just put him in a tux, and it’ll look like he’s my date. Problem solved.” I smile, pleased at my clever thinking.
“You’re not using your guard as a date. He’s recently separated from his wife, not yet divorced. That’s not the PR we want for you. Don’t you read the daily memos Trina sends out to keep us all in the loop?”
I grimace. My assistant is very industrious, but who can keep up with daily memos? I trust her to do her job. She’s been with me for three years now.
“Okay, forget about the memos,” Dana says. “I’m happy to read them for you. Your job is to get that royal man candy on your arm for next Saturday.”
I break out in a cold sweat at the thought. Could I skip the event entirely? No. I want the press to take note of Best Friends Care, and my presence will help draw attention to the cause.
“Harp, we good? Date for Saturday’s gala?”
No. “I’ll come up with something.”
“I’ll get in touch with Prince Garrett Rourke for you, okay? I know you can get uncomfortable with this kind of thing.” That’s her polite reference to my shyness. I don’t pursue men. Except when I mistake them for my guard apparently.
“I don’t think anyone calls him Prince Garrett.” Do they? Josie didn’t. Boy, is she a major Garrett fangirl. I’m betting she loves everyone in the Rourke family with great enthusiasm. That’s just her. “Don’t get in touch with him. I’ll figure something out.”
Her voice takes on an urgent tone. “You have to go. You’re getting an award for your contribution. It’s because of you they were able to go international with their organization. That is a big deal. You can’t turn them down at this late date. I’ve arranged a ton of press for this.”
“I’m going! Don’t worry.”
She lets out an audible breath. “Okay, okay. We want the focus on the cause, not on your cheating ex. If you show up with a date, the message is, you’re fine and you both love this cause. Don’t make it harder on yourself than it needs to be. And he’s easy on the eyes. No one will feel sorry for you after that.”
My breath catches. “They feel sorry for me?”
“More like pity. You know I tell it like it is. It’s career suicide to be pitied. No one will enjoy rooting you on as Amanda Boxer, Lexi Gold, or any other character. You can be tough, you can be a wealthy socialite, but you cannot look pathetic and weak. You can’t be pitied. Understand?”
Pathetic and weak! My upbringing kicks in, and I square my shoulders and straighten my spine. I was raised to be strong and I am. I was betrayed by Colton and did nothing wrong.
I keep my tone even. “I’m going solo. Goodbye, Dana.”