Devoted 2 : Where the Ivy Grows Read Online Free PDF Page A

bleep’ makes me jump, and Marc steps back and whips his mobile phone from his pocket.
    Typical Marc. No customised ring tone.
    He snaps the phone to his ear. ‘Blackwell ... Yes ... So soon? Fine. No, soon is good.’ He drops the phone back into his pocket and turns to me. ‘Well, Miss Rose. Is the suite to your liking?’
    I love it up here, but ... this isn’t my world. I don’t know what to do here. How to be. Where to sit, even.
    ‘ It’s beautiful, but ... this hotel isn’t something I’m used to. It might take me some time to feel comfortable.’
    ‘Time is what we don’t have. That was my PR team. Our journalist has arrived.’
     

10

‘A journalist? Already?’
    Marc nods. ‘The interview will take place here. In this room.’ He gestures to the living area, and I take a look at the fireplace and antique cushioned chairs. I notice bottles of mineral water on a round, wooden table. I guess it’s as good a place as any to have an interview. I don’t know what I was expecting – some press conference room with a long table and lots of jostling reporters shouting at me for a comment.
    I look at Marc, wondering what he’s thinking. His eyes have clouded over, and he looks softer and cuter than usual in his black t-shirt and cargo trousers. His hair is as floppy as ever, and he’s not clean shaven.
    Those curved lips of his look less red than usual though and are pulled tight together as he surveys the room.
    I feel his hand around mine and suddenly feel very small and young.
    ‘Just be yourself,’ says Marc. ‘And she’ll love you.’
    ‘She?’
    ‘I invited the nicest journalist I know. Arabella from Gossip magazine. We’ve given her an exclusive, and in exchange, my team will be able to vet the article before it goes to press.’
    ‘Vet?’
    ‘Make sure it contains everything you’d want it to contain. And nothing you wouldn’t. I couldn’t care less what they write about me, but I do care what they write about you.’
    ‘That doesn’t sound very ... ethical,’ I say. ‘Aren’t journalists supposed to be able to write what they want?’
    Marc smiles. ‘Ah, Sophia. So much to learn.’
    ‘But I want them to be honest,’ I say. ‘I want them to write what they truly think.’
    Marc shakes his head. ‘The job of newspapers is to tell a good story. If we don’t tell our story, then they’ll tell their own. Honesty doesn’t come into it.’
    ‘But if she’s a nice person, then what’s the problem?’ I ask.
    ‘Even nice journalists have editors who want to spice up stories. This is a safety measure. Believe me – it’s a good idea.’
    ‘No.’ My voice sounds firmer than I expect.
    ‘No?’ Marc raises an eyebrow.
    ‘Please, Marc. I want her to write what she wants. I’d feel awful if I knew your team had a hand in the final story. It just feels ... icky.’
    Marc grins then, his big, broad Hollywood grin.
    ‘Icky? Why Miss Rose, I never realised you were so articulate.’
    I smile back. ‘Extremely articulate.’
    Marc puts his arms around me.
    ‘Okay,’ he whispers into my hair. ‘If you feel so strongly about it, I’ll talk to my PR team. See if we can’t come up with a middle ground. I can’t have you completely unprotected and at their mercy. But ... maybe we can reach a compromise.’
    ‘Marc,’ I say. ‘What sort of questions will she ask?’
    ‘She understands that you’re young and haven’t been part of this world before. But ... she’s going to want a story. She’ll push, I have no doubt about that. Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time. I’ll step in if I sense you’re getting uncomfortable.’
    ‘Thank you.’ I let out a long breath, feeling a little sick. Until now, Marc and I have been in a cocoon. A bubble. All we’ve known is each other, but now we’re in the real world, trying to hash out a real relationship. And something tells me it won’t be easy.
    Marc pulls me back from him so he can see my face. ‘You know, it’s