Page 43 of Breaking the Rules
Gwendolyn, still frowning, accepted a mug of coffee and ignored the rest. “So why don’t you tell me why you decided to jaunt off to rehab without giving your publicist a head’s up?” she said, her tone clipped.
Waverly didn’t bother taking offense to Gwendolyn’s comment. With her list of high-profile clients, the woman had literally already seen everything and nothing phased her. Al, on the other hand, picked up a cherry Danish and sat back, ready to absorb whatever it was that Waverly was going to share with them.
“It was supposed to be more of a vacation. Like a yoga retreat,” Waverly began. “It had nothing to do with drugs or alcohol. I just needed a break to reprioritize.”
“Mmm,” Gwendolyn frowned, sliding on a pair of gold-framed reading glasses to take notes on her tablet. “So no drugs or alcohol involved in the accident. I’ll see if we can get law enforcement to confirm. What facility did you go to?”
“There won’t be any confirmation from any law enforcement, and I’m not willing to talk specifics on where I was.”
Gwendolyn set her tablet down on the table with a snap. Al’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted, appreciating the entertainment of the brief show of temper.
“So what exactly am I doing wasting my time here?” she asked.
“I’m telling you that there are certain aspects of the story that were leaked to the media without my permission that aren’t entirely accurate. So rather than going to war with Target Productions, I’d like to find a way out of this without pointing fingers and maybe earning a couple of bonus points with fans.”
“You want me to spin a vague stay in a potentially non-existent rehab facility so you come out on top?” Gwendolyn clarified.
“Yep.”
“Well, then let’s start with some misdirection. Where is Xavier?”
Of course Gwendolyn had seen the photos of them flying in to L.A. and yesterday’s cozy coffee shop stop. Waverly’s attention was caught by movement outside on the patio. An arm rose out of the steaming water of the pool and then another, followed by Xavier’s head and torso. The son of a bitch was wearing the scandalous swim trunks her mother bought for him in Greece all those years ago. The red and blue Grigioperla suit left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
“Holy hotness,” Al breathed next to her, the Danish fell unheeded from her fingers to the tabletop. Even Gwendolyn’s armor showed some cracks as she slowly removed her reading glasses to stare.
Xavier reached for a towel and slowly dried the water that beaded across his vast expanse of chest. Steam rose off of his muscled shoulders in the morning chill. “Is he moving in slow motion, or am I drunk?” Al wondered.
He padded barefoot to the door, the saunter of a man with an audience and no cares in the world, and let himself in.
“Ladies,” he greeted them.
No one said a word. Waverly couldn’t stop staring at the indecently short trunks that barely concealed what looked like a weapon. But that wasn’t a gun in his shorts.
Xavier swooped over her and snagged Waverly’s coffee. He drank and winced at the sugar.
“I can make you your own cup,” Waverly muttered. She was embarrassed that she couldn’t seem to stop looking at him and annoyed that Gwendolyn and Al seemed to have the same issue.
“Yours is fine,” he told her and playfully tugged the hood of her sweatshirt. “I’m going to go shower.”
They all watched in reverent silence as he loped up the stairs and crossed the loft above them to his room. He shut the door, and all three women let out the collective breath they’d been holding.
“Oh, boy,” Gwendolyn breathed. “I can work with that.”
“Please tell me he wants to get into acting,” Al sighed and picked up her Danish. Waverly had seen the men who accompanied Al to events. The woman knew fine male stock when she saw it.
Waverly snapped her fingers at them. “Focus, ladies.” She rose and returned to the coffee maker for a new mug to replace her stolen one. “We need a message that deflects from the whole rehab thing without coming right out and saying it was bullshit.”
“I’ll handle the message,” Gwendolyn said, returning to her reading glasses and tablet. “As long as you’re comfortable with playing up a little romance with Mr. Hard Body Saint up there.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I checked in with Kate last night,” Al told her. “Traffic to your social media accounts exploded in the last forty-eight hours. You and Xavier are the world’s living, breathing love story.”
“The world is a twisted place,” Waverly complained.
“Honey, if you’re not taking advantage of having Xavier Saint living under your roof, you’re the twisted one,” Al warned her.
“So we’ve got a message, or we will have one by noon,” Gwendolyn said, checking the glittering Cartier on her wrist. “Where do we want to shout from the rooftops?
