Page 71 of Scandal
And thank Christ for that, because if she knew the reason my mother scheduled this interview was that people were beginning to doubt our relationship because of her attention-seeking sorority sister, LuAnn, she would be even more nervous than she is now.
But I wasn’t kidding this morning.
It’s going to be okay. I will make sure of that.
When we meet in the foyer a few minutes before the reporter is due to arrive, I have to force myself to breathe at the mere sight of her.
It’s been a month since she appeared on the side of the road like an apparition from my mind, and yet she’s still the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
She is the picture of elegance in blue silk, and I can’t tear my eyes away from hers.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
Before I get a chance to add to the riveting conversation I’ve started, my mother storms in, her private secretary in tow. “Ah, good. I see we’re all here.” She gives Mercury and me a passing glance but ignores Evie and Mac, who stand toward the back of the room, against the wall.
If I know my mother well—and I do—she’s so focused on this interview right now that Evie and Mac might as well be furniture.
All she cares about is making those headlines from LuAnn WhatsHerFace disappear.
Permanently.
“The reporter from theMorning Starjust arrived at the gate, so we only have a minute or two,” she says, now giving Mercury and me her full attention. “Her name is Lana Chancler and—” I let out a groan I didn’t mean to be so loud. My mother gives me a pointed glare. “Is something wrong?”
Shit. “No?”
“You seem unsure.”
“It’s fine.”
She and Mercury both eye me suspiciously, but before I have a chance to explain, the double doors open, and Lana is being ushered in by the butler.
Her dark-brown eyes sweep the room until they land on mine, and a smug, cruel smile spreads across her lips. “Hello, Asher. Long time, no see.”
This is going to suck.
Chapter Seventeen
MERCURY
The first part of the interview consists mostly of photos.
Photos of us in the garden, the conservatory, and the library. We hold hands, pretend to walk along a cobblestone path, and look lovingly into each other’s eyes.
It’s giving engagement photo shoot vibes, except there’s no ring on my finger, and…oh right.None of this is fucking real!
I try to stay focused as the photographer moves us to the library window and tells Asher to place his hand on my hip. “That’s good,” he says over the top of his camera. “Now, lean in a bit, Ash—” I catch Theodora giving him a stern look. He clears his throat and corrects himself. “Lord Blackstone.”
Since Lana, the extremely beautiful reporter, arrived and greeted Asher by name, the countess made it abundantly clear that protocol dictates the heir apparent to be addressed by his courtesy title.
I am given the only pass.
The reporter receives a warning glare from the countess that appears to slide right off her back.
“Angle your chin up a bit, Miss Creed,” the photographer instructs.
When I do, I find myself staring into Asher’s soft blue eyes. His grip on my waist tightens for a moment, as if he can’t help himself, and then it releases.
