Free Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) by Celia Kennedy

queried how long Des had been having the affair.
    I took a deep breath and slowly blew it out while I shoved my hair out of my eyes. “What a mess. I wonder what she’s thinking.”
    They all looked at me with concern. “You’re the one with problems. Des and Ms. Roberts have fled the scene, and you’ve been left behind to handle the whole thing. You need to figure out what you want to do,” Marian said as she sat down on the bed beside me.
    “That just occurred to me!” I said to no one in particular while chewing my lip. We all sat in silence for a minute or two, absorbing how this vacation had taken on a surreal quality.
    “Come on! Let’s have breakfast and coffee. Maybe they’ll all go away again, and we won’t have to figure out what to do,” Kathleen said as she pulled me out of bed.
    The others were working in the kitchen when I arrived. I had used the excuse of needing to use the bathroom when, in reality, all I needed was a good cry. They ignored my puffy red eyes, and, over breakfast, we devised plans for the remaining few days of our time together.
    “We could pack up and go to Saint Gervais Les Bains,” Hillary suggested. “They have fabulous skiing.”
    “How about taking the train to Monaco?” Kathleen inquired. A newspaper had reported that Prince Miguel Alfonso Monte- whatever had left, as well. I shot her a look that told her how pathetic I thought she was.
    “I really appreciate the support, but we’d spend all our time packing, rearranging our flights, and traveling. I think we should just take a stand and enjoy the rest our time here.” All four of them looked at me dubiously but seemed to accept my opinion as the decision.
    A few chocolate croissants and several cups of coffee later, we had decided how to ride out the storm in Chamonix. I went upstairs and began to pull myself together. While washing my hair, I found a nice-sized lump on the back of my head. No wonder I had a headache. While drying myself off with a big, fluffy white towel, I made a mental note to buy a better helmet. I then gently rubbed some cream into my skin and took a few aspirin.
    Every once in a while during my toilette, a paparazzi report was called up the stairs. I finally arrived downstairs to find my friends dressed in jackets and boots.
    “Are you ready?” Tiziana asked.
    “Are you sure you want to do this?” Kathleen inquired.
    “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Lambs to the slaughter come to mind,” Hillary remarked.
    Pulling on my coat and boots, I looked at them. “Do I look ready?”
    “Well, actually, you look like you did the day of our final exams at school,” Marian offered.
    “Well, that doesn’t make me feel great! I was a bundle of nerves that day. I thought I was going to be sick. Just leave a clear path to the door, don’t let me ramble, and, if at all possible, don’t say a word,” I instructed the group. “If there’s trouble, I’d rather take the blame.”
    With that, we opened the doors and presented a unified front to the paparazzi. Instantly, the cameras started to click, people started to shout, and I felt the urge to both vomit and wet my pants.
    I took one step further forward than my friends, to separate myself from them. I pulled some notes out of my pocket that I had made at the breakfast table and addressed the crowd.
    “Rumors that Mr. Bannerman and I have an intimate relationship are completely false. We met purely by chance twice. I would like to apologize to Ms. Roberts directly for causing her any discomfort.”
    “My friends and I would like to enjoy the remainder of our vacation. We ask that you respect all those involved in this incident and give us privacy. Thank you.”
    More shouting and camera-clicking continued as I turned and walked back into the chalet. Once inside, I raced to the bathroom. While I didn’t get sick, I had almost wet my pants. I pressed a cold cloth to my flushed cheeks and wondered how celebrities, politicians, and other