Page 35 of Billionaire Bachelor
I tilt my head in question, trying to figure out what she meant by that. “Thanks, Trish.”
She chuckles. “It’ll make sense once you see what it is.”
I head toward my lovely corner pod, passing a series of other workstations tucked behind frosted glass partitions. When I duck into mine, I’m greeted by a stunning sight—a large crystal vase filled with two dozen lilac roses. My breath catches, and I step closer, fingertips grazing the soft petals. Lilac roses have been my favorite for as long as I can remember, a preference very few people know about. Roses might be a common flower, but to me, the lilac shade is an understated beauty, so subtle and unique. It has an inexplicable calming effect, reminding me to take a deep breath and literally smell the roses.
Curious, I pick up the small card nestled among the blooms. A huge smile stretches across my face as I read the inscription.
Miss you already, Pip.
There’s no signature, but only one person calls me Pip, so there’s no question who sent them.
I retrieve my phone out of my purse as I’m taking a seat,intending to text Logan, but my boss, Avery, strides into my workspace before my ass even hits the chair.
“Welcome back, Rosalie. Nice flowers,” Avery says in the no-nonsense tone she’s known for. “Let’s talk about Jett’s image strategy.”
Some people may think her abrupt arrival and instant demand is rude, but Avery Jacobs-Maxwell is one of the kindest, most understanding people I know, with a wicked sense of humor. She’s a badass in the public relations world—one of the top in the industry—but it didn’t come easily. In this business, no matter how hard you work or how much you contribute to the bottom line, when you’re a woman—especially one as stunningly beautiful as Avery—you have to be tough on the surface to be taken seriously. Even though the majority of publicists in this country are women, most of the PR executives those women report to are men.
Avery’s husband, Liam, may have founded Maxwell and Company with his New York counterpart, but she was promoted to partner after single-handedly bringing in so many large-scale clients during her first year as a publicist with our Entertainment Division that Maxwell’s already impressive profits grew astronomically. Not only that, but she somehow managed to tame the bossman, ridding him of his infamous playboy ways. If the rumors are true, Avery and Liam used to hate each other’s guts, but professionally, they meshed so well that they begrudgingly tolerated working together. It’s honestly hard to imagine, though, because that man worships the ground she walks on and makes no attempt to hide it. I always joke with Sylvie that I want to be Avery when I grow up, and I don’t think it’s difficult to see why.
I turn my computer monitor on and say, “Of course. Let me just get signed on.”
“No need,” she says. “Take a walk with me. I need coffee,pronto.”
I barely have time to grab my iPad and stylus pen before Avery’s out the door, walking down the hall at a brisk pace.
“As you know,” Avery begins, “Of Blood and Honorcan be a game-changing film for Jett’s career, if we do our jobs right. This is our opportunity to show his evolution from teen drama heartthrob to serious Oscar contender.Weknow Jett is an incredibly talented actor, but his past transgressions on and off set are working against him right now. The early squawking has made the studio nervous, but I assured them we had a plan to turn it around.”
She pauses to blow a kiss to her husband as we pass his open office door. I swear to god, he looks like he’s two seconds away from bending her over his desk and fucking the daylights out of her. Jesus, it’s makingmeblush.
Avery’s breathing pattern momentarily changes, before she shakes herself out of it. “Where was I?”
I clear my throat. “The studio is concerned, but we have a plan.”
“Right.” She points to me. “So, as I was saying, theplanis to really focus on his personal growth. He’s no longer the douchey, drama-stirring, party-going guy of the past. All of his posts over the next six months should paint a pretty picture proving he’s a full-fledged, responsible adult now. Not the wild teenager he portrayed on TV. Leverage his close relationship with his mother…people eat that shit up. Show his volunteer work with the children’s hospital, but don’t lean on it so heavily, it looks like he’s only doing it for the photo op. Throw inlotsof photos of Jett with his rescue pitbulls—animals always get social engagement. Really work the ‘adopt, not shop’ angle there.
“Sprinkle in some sexy pictures of him at home. Maybe some shots lounging beside the pool reading a book. Or cooking shirtless, looking irresistibly disheveled, implying he’s preparing breakfast in bed for someone special. You get the gist. We all know that sex sells in this business, but you need to be careful his entire feed doesn’t turn into a thirst trap. Every post needs to be intentional, peeling back layers of his character so by the time the press junkets begin, people will be champing at the bit for the movie’spremier.”
I jot down a few notes on my tablet and say, “Understood.”
She gives me a determined nod, her eyes flashing with the intensity she brings to every campaign. “I trust you to set the tone. Let’s make it impossible for audiences to imagine anyone else in that role.”
I nod, absorbing her vision and already imagining the posts that will shape Jett’s new image.
“Make sure Erin is synced in on this. She’s my number two on this one.”
“Got it.” I nod, noting to forward all copy to one our more seasoned junior publicists for approval.
Avery stops to pop her head into another publicist’s office. “Trevor, I need that press release on my desk in thirty.”
“It’ll be there in twenty,” he replies. “I’m just finishing up.”
She turns back to me and resumes walking. “While you were away, Hans Van Sant got arrested for DUI and solicitation. Now his wife’s filing for divorce, and he’s checking into rehab for alcohol and sex addiction. What a mess.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”
Hans Van Sant is a renowned director and producer. Every actor worth their salt dreams of starring in one of his films. Hollywood relationships are known for being short-lived, but Mr. and Mrs. Van Sant have been publicly flaunting their self-proclaimed ‘Romance of the Century’ for the last twenty years.
“You can say that again.” Avery laughs as she steps into the employee break room, with me hot on her heels. “I have a feeling I’m going to need quite a few of these today.”
