.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. But everyone reminded me on a daily basis that we were an amazing couple. You brought out my wild side; I tamed yours. Everyone expects to see us together at the Music Awards next month.”
“You ignored me for six months. Now you expect me to hang on your arm in public?”
“For appearances.”
“If you’re so worried about appearances, why the hell did you send Andre out to the wolves?”
“I’m only worried about my appearance. His humiliation is just collateral. No offense, but I don’t give a shit what the press thinks of—wait. Andre?”
Angeline crossed her arms to mimic him and raised one eyebrow. “Yes. Andre. I believe you’ve met before.”
“Your driver? Oh Jesus, Angeline.” Luke rubbed his face. “You’re fucking your driver? You’re lucky I came when I did. You have any idea what those vultures will do with that information?”
She refused to react. Luke had the power to blow this way out of proportion and make her into the bad girl. And with her reputation, she knew the media would believe him. “You know nothing about him. He’s smart and funny, and an amazingly talented artist.”
“Oh, I’m sure he is.” Luke strolled across the room to peek out the window. “But none of that matters. I’ll still be the victim. You’ll still be Hurricane Angeline.”
She scowled at the nickname. He knew she hated it.
He ignored her scowl and checked the other set of windows. “And your driver Andre will just be the ‘other man’.”
“What do you care?”
“I’m a businessman. And my reputation is my business. Just like you and yours.”
“So now you’re worried about mine?”
“Ours. We both do better as a team, babe. You had your fling with your driver; I had a few flings while you were in detox. Now it’s time to get our shit together.”
Angeline’s head swam, but she refused to show it and instead faced the mirror. She ruffled her hair, combed through it with her fingers, then brushed off the remnants of mascara on her cheeks. “You’re delusional. You expect me to jump back into your arms and play the part of your leading lady?”
“You’ve always liked the dramatic roles.”
“And you’re such a comedian. I suppose that would be easier than if you went out there and told the truth. That you dropped me like a diseased rat.”
Luke’s gaze raked over her bed, the sheets rumpled. “Looks like you got over me pretty easily.”
“I got over you months ago. So you’ve done what you came for. You can leave now.”
“Not quite yet. We haven’t even talked about the future of our relationship.”
“Future? We have no—”
“We’re good for each other. Always have been. Professionally at least. Your fire to my ice.”
“It’s all about appearances to you.”
“Exactly.”
She picked up her phone. “I wonder what the public will think when the police come to drag you out of my house.”
“Now, now… You’re always flying off the handle. I thought you were going to work on that. Remember? Think before you act? Like, maybe think about the shit storm you’d start if the cops really did show up.”
She pursed her lips and stopped dialing. God damn it, he was right. If she really wanted to head off unflattering articles, a swarm of police hauling Luke from her house wouldn’t be the way.
Sinking onto the vanity stool like a deflated balloon, she let her phone drop to the floor. She was like a little kid. Always getting into trouble and hoping someone else would bail her out. At Redland, at least she’d had a crew of nurses and psychologists directing her life. Making her decisions. Now, out on her own in the wild, she was already making the wrong choices.
Luke squatted before her and took her hand between his. “Angeline.”
She looked into his eyes, blinking tears away from her own.
“Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay now… I’m back. I’ll give you some stability. I’ll take care of you. Don’t