Page 76 of Heartless

“Yes,” Annie yelled and jumped, bumping into another mannequin.

The designer helped me put the gown on and Annie slapped a hand over her chest. “That's your dress. You should get married in it.”

The image of Parker in a tux at his wedding appeared in my mind and my gut tied into knots.

“Annie, enough with the champagne, okay? You are the one that's getting married.”

She burst out laughing. “You are so funny! It's so refreshing. I'm so sick of people who are afraid to talk to me. I want to be treated like a normal human being.” Then a sob escaped her lips.

“Okay, the party is over,” I said and turned to the designer. “Help me get her out of that dress.”

Ten minutes later Annie's driver and I got her into her car.

“Call me later, okay?” I instructed her.

“Oh, no. Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll call an Uber. You should go home and sleep.”

“No, we’re going to have a drink and you’re going to tell me who you were thinking about when you put on that dress,” she grinned.

“What?” I squealed and her smile grew bigger. “Annie, the last thing you need is another drink.”

“Maybe, but you obviously need more champagne to start talking and I really want to know his name.”

“There is nohe,” I assured her.

“I don’t believe you,” she slapped both her clammy palms over my cheeks. “Get in the car.”

I didn’t really want to go drinking with her, but I also wondered if she would be safe alone and drunk with her driver. Maybe he wouldn't take advantage of her, but it was enough for him to take a few pictures, then send them to the tabloids.

“You know what?” I smiled at her. “You’re right. We should have a drink. But I need to pick something up from The Gem first. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Annie released my face. “Hop in.”

I climbed on the backseat and Annie instructed him to drive towards The Gem. Three minutes later she fell asleep, her mouth open, drool dripping from one corner. I took my phone out and shot Parker a text.

Me: Annie Foster got drunk.

His answer came almost immediately.

Parker: Is there a reason I should know that important piece of information?

Asshole.

Me: Yes. I’m taking her to The Gem. Can you make sure no one snaps a nasty picture of her?

Parker: My staff doesn't take pictures of our clients.

Was he seriously having that argument with me right now?

Me: What about the paparazzi? Do they take pictures of your clients?

The three dots indicating he was typing danced across the screen. I was prepared for a snarky text, but he surprised me.

Parker: Text me when you’re close.

Madison: Okay.

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