On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [90]
Unhurriedly letting Lilah go, the publicist gave Devon a wounded look. “I was worried. My biggest client falls off the grid—naturally, I wanted to make sure you were copasetic. And then, of course, when all the rumors started flying, I had to find you.”
“Rumors?” Devon asked sharply. He cursed himself the moment the word flew out of his mouth and he caught the glint of triumph in Simon’s eye, but it was too late. He was caught.
“I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy with Lilah,” Simon said with a speaking glance.
Lilah, who apparently spoke fluent publicist, merely crossed her arms over her chest and planted her heels.
“It’s fine,” Devon said, impatient. “You can say whatever in front of her.”
Simon didn’t look startled, more satisfied—as if Devon had confirmed a suspicion. “All righty, then.” He moved smoothly into his soothing-the-savage-celebrity voice. “I don’t want you to get upset, because there’s an easy fix, but you should know that rumors are circulating that Market has gone downhill since Adam Temple left you in charge.” He paused for a grave moment. “I won’t lie. Your reputation has taken a hit.”
Okay. On some level, Devon knew this was coming. On the heels of Lilah’s blunt assessment and his own realization of the staggering amount of self-delusion he’d been practicing, this new problem merely added to the defeated exhaustion dragging him down. “And you want me to do what about it? I’m weeded bad here, Simon. The rumors are right, we’re in the shit every night. I’m messing this up like a first-year culinary school grad. Worse! We’ve got an ACA extern who’s doing way better than me.”
Devon heard Lilah’s quiet intake of breath. She was probably in shock that he’d admitted it, but shit, what was the point of fooling himself? If he’d really lost his palate, he was done for. That was a career killer, right there.
“Not so loud,” Simon hissed. “Have I taught you nothing about public perception? You project total confidence at all times, period. Nobody wants to see the man behind the curtain, Dev. You know that.”
This time Lilah snorted, and it wasn’t quiet.
Ignoring her, Simon went on, “Now, Dev, it’s simple, really. All you have to do is hire me back. I’ll arrange everything. You’ll give a public statement with a credible reason for the downturn in Market’s popularity—like alcoholism, for instance.”
Devon winced, eyes zooming to Tucker, laughing at some damn face Frankie was pulling. “Shit. I don’t have a drinking problem.”
“Drugs, then,” Simon said, waving the details away as inconsequential. “Doesn’t matter. Oldest story in the world. You’ll have to go away for a while, of course, for ‘rehab’—it’s a nice opportunity for a vacation, a break from everything, and really, I think it’s the best thing for you. When you come back from vacay, I bet everything will look different.”
It was nothing Devon hadn’t heard before. In the four years since he’d hired Simon to handle public relations for the growing Sparks brand, Simon had engineered countless publicity opportunities for Devon. In the past, Devon had followed Simon’s advice without a second thought—because he knew that he and Simon were driving hard toward the exact same goal.
Yet somehow, standing here with sweet Lilah Jane at his side, Devon wasn’t so sure anymore.
Devon opened his mouth to tell his publicist where he could stick it, but Lilah stopped him with an imploring hand.
She undoubtedly meant to grab his elbow, but he shifted at the last second and her palm landed against his lower ribs. The touch jolted his system like a shock, the intimacy of it warm and welcome in the strange crossroads moment where Devon now found himself.
Lilah looked down at the hand on Devon’s side as if surprised to find it attached to her wrist, but she left it there.
If she thought the weight of it would add to the strength of her imploring gaze, she was right. Lilah turned those big, baby-doll eyes on him and Devon was ready to do almost anything to keep her looking at him like that.
“Don’t do that,” she urged.