was hoping he was being nice to me just because he wanted to? Not because of some sense of obligation to his brother?
“I need to do a few things for my brother,” he adds. “Will you be okay on your own?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, putting a brave smile on. “Thanks again.”
Watching the Prince walk away, bitterness coats my mouth. My body is still rattled from my panic attack, and I feel like I need to do something to relax.
Jumping in my car, I ignore the bad feeling at the pit of my stomach when I drive through the mansion gates. I always get this feeling when I go anywhere on my own, but I need to do it today. I need to prove to myself that I’m capable of living a normal life, and not be engulfed by fears of all the bad things that might happen, or the inevitable degeneration of my body.
I have a life to live now. I need to go out and live it.
I drive to my favorite spa, where I know they’ll be able to fit me in for a massage or a facial without an appointment.
Hey, I never said there weren’t perks to being famous—I just said there are downsides, too.
When I get to the spa, the receptionist smiles at me and leads me to a private room. As soon as the soothing aromas of lemongrass and lavender hit me, a smile drifts over my lips.
I just did the most difficult thing I’ve had to do in a while. That interview is something I’ve been dreading for weeks, and Felicity said it went perfectly. Even Prince Dante was impressed.
Now that it’s done, I can take some time for myself. Hopefully, it’ll take the pressure off Ivy, and we can both just enjoy some down time.
Today’s interview was a big deal. Yesterday’s opening of the bakery was an even bigger deal. I deserve a little bit of pampering.
My usual massage therapist comes in, and I spend the next hour in and out of blissful, relaxing sleep. She massages my entire body from head to toe, and when she leaves the room to let me get dressed, I just lay there for a few minutes to soak up the last few minutes of relaxation.
I have an eye pillow on, and a sheet covering my body when the door opens again. She must have come back in to finish up the treatment. Did I say I wanted a facial, as well? I can’t remember exactly what I ordered.
I wait a few moments, anticipating the soft sound of her voice as she tells me what she’s going to do.
Instead, a man clears his throat.
“Well, well, well…” Hunter says. “Margot LeBlanc is back in front of the cameras.”
I scramble up, clutching the sheet to my body as the eye pillow falls to the ground.
My ex-agent is standing near the door, running his eyes down my nearly-naked body. A slimy feeling follows his gaze as fear ices my veins. My grip tightens on the sheet as I hold it tight to my body.
“How did you get in here? I’m calling security.”
“How quickly things change,” Hunter says, shaking his head. His eyes are beady and black. “I’ve been with you from the very start. I got you your first audition—or have you forgotten?”
“You know what I haven’t forgotten? How you somehow sourced live E. coli bacteria and planted it in my sister’s bakery, hospitalizing dozens of people. One of whom, by the way, was my pregnant sister. I haven’t forgotten that.”
My hand drifts to my abdomen when I say the word ‘pregnant,’ and Hunter’s eyes follow the movement. His eyebrow arches slightly, and my whole body turns cold. The last thing I want is for Hunter to know that I’m pregnant with Prince Beckett’s child.
That’s exactly the kind of information he would use against me. I need less stress in my life, not more.
“I’m here as a courtesy,” Hunter says, flicking his eyes back up to my face. I’m still clutching the sheet to my chest. The aromatherapy scents which were so soothing before now stick to the back of my throat, choking me. I feel naked, exposed, and weak.
“What courtesy is that?” I try to keep my voice steady, but a tremor sneaks into the words. After the interview today and the mess that Dante left in my head, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“You should distance yourself from your sister and her new