Free Devoted 2 : Where the Ivy Grows by S. Quinn, J Lerman Page A

papers down right away. I wouldn’t have let them get away with what happened this morning.’
    Marc turns to her and raises an eyebrow. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or not, but if he is, there’ll be fireworks. Jen isn’t one to back down.
    ‘Oh? And what would you have done to stop those stories?’
    ‘Threatened legal action. Pulled in some favours. Bargained to make the story more favourable. It looks to me like the papers ran exactly what they liked. There was no pressure on them. Nothing to stop them.’
    ‘Jen’s in PR,’ I explain.
    Marc takes a seat on an armchair opposite us and sips his coffee. He’s relaxed. In control. The suave businessman.
    ‘You’re saying my team should have blackmailed the press into running a better story?’
    Jen gives a tight smile. ‘Not blackmailed. Bargained. Offered something in return for a favourable report.’
    ‘Something?’
    ‘More photographs, but ones that show you favourably. Or an exclusive interview.’
    Marc’s lips push out into a thoughtful pout. God , he’s sexy. Even when he’s frowning, my body responds to him.
    ‘Well, now. That would have been a good idea. Who did you say you work for?’
    Jen’s tight smile turns into her full-beam, blind you with her white teeth, megawatt smile.
    ‘Prometheus PR. But I’m starting my own firm soon. It’s just a matter of time.’
    ‘Interesting.’ Marc’s gaze flicks to me.
    ‘Don’t think I’m trying to sell my own services though,’ says Jen. ‘All I care about is Sophia.’
    ‘Then we have something in common. I’m listening to what you’re saying. It sounds like you know your line of work extremely well.’
    ‘Speaking of work, I’d better go,’ says Jen, leaping to her feet. ‘I told them I’d be back an hour ago.’
    She kisses me on the cheek and makes a phone sign with her hand. ‘Call you later, okay babe? Nice to meet you, Marc.’ She snatches up her coat and heads out the door.
    Marc sets down his coffee. ‘We should get moving too. Ready for the photo shoot?’
    I nod. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’
    He takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. ‘New dress?’
    ‘You only just noticed?’
    ‘I rarely notice what you’re wearing. It’s you I notice, not your clothes.’
    ‘You noticed I wasn’t wearing a coat on campus. Remember?’
    ‘That was different. I didn’t notice your clothes. I noticed you were cold. Clothing aside, you look extremely desirable, Miss Rose. A little too desirable for my liking. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off you during the photo shoot.’
    ‘I thought that was the point of the pictures,’ I say, feeling a shiver go through me at the thought of his hands. ‘For you to have your hands on me. So we look like a couple.’
    Marc drops his head to my ear. ‘If that’s the case, I’m going to have a hard time restraining myself.’
    Yes! I feel like singing. Little by little, I’m getting closer. I’m chipping away at that famous self-control of his.
    ‘Won’t the photographer tell you what to do at the shoot?’ I say with a raise of my eyebrow. ‘Do you think you can handle that?’
    ‘I don’t take orders well,’ says Marc, letting his hand slide onto my lower back. ‘But I think I can manage. For you. And who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to work in a few orders of my own.’
     

27

The photography studio isn’t what I’m expecting at all. I’d sort of pictured this huge bungalow type building with a rubber floor and tons of camera equipment and lights everywhere. But actually, the studio is just a room inside GMQ headquarters – the company that publishes Arabella’s magazine and a bunch of other gossip magazines and newspapers.
    It’s completely white, with no windows, and it’s teeny tiny. Pokey, really. The floor is covered with long sheets of white paper, and there’s just one light mounted on a silver tripod.
    A giant screen stands in one corner, and I see cardboard boxes of props behind it.
    There