The Prada Paradox Read Online Free PDF Page A

lot more appealing than my Newtons. Unfortunately, I ate my allotment earlier (my reward for both surviving the scene and nailing it).

    I’m still holding the unopened snack-size package of Fig Newtons, and I’d been secretly proud of myself for not ripping into them despite temptation. Now, though, temptation be damned. I toss the package aside and dive for the divinity. Because if it’s a question of fortitude by sugar or facing Blake unarmed, I’m going for the candy.

    He watches but doesn’t say anything, and I give him points for that. He knows about my divinity rule. And he also knows that I invariably snarf my allotment after nailing a scene. So he has to know that he’s driven me to this—it’s his fault I’ve fallen off the candy wagon.

    Frankly, I hope he’s wallowing in guilt. But at the same time, I’m grateful that he’s wallowing quietly.

    “What’s up?” I ask, after I’ve swallowed. I’m silently congratulating myself on not leaping on him immediately and demanding to know what the heck he’s doing coming on the set when he doesn’t even have scenes scheduled today.

    “Interview,” he says.

    I narrow my eyes. I know him too well, and something’s up. This is more than just an interview. “With who?” I say, cautiously.

    “Letterman,” he says, and I immediately bristle.

    “That isn’t even funny.” I’m impressed that my voice comes out normal despite my shock and anger. I never dreamed Blake would be that cruel.

    “I’m serious,” he says. He gestures vaguely toward the north. “They’re setting up on the set.”

    “Why are you doing this?” I ask. Letterman shoots in New York, so I know he’s just being a prick. But I don’t understand why.

    “Satellite feed,” he says.

    “Bullshit. Letterman doesn’t do satellite feed.”

    Blake just shrugs. “I guess he does now.”

    I just stare. I’m honestly not sure if he’s telling the truth or lying. Frankly, I can’t imagine why he’d do either.

    “Apparently the producers thought that since my last appearance was about landing my first movie role, my second appearance should be from the set.”

    “Uh-huh.” I lick my lips and fight for control. “And you thought that would be smart? Or was this Elliot’s idea? Either way, I can totally see the appeal. I mean, you got so much publicity with the first appearance, another one should go over even bigger. Too bad you haven’t got a new girlfriend. You could break up with her on television and really pump up your PR quotient.”

    “Dammit, Devi. I didn’t break up with—”

    “Don’t even start with me.”

    “Devi—” His tone is harsh, warning. And I really don’t give a damn.Technically maybe he didn’t break up with me on television, but the hurt is still the same. And the humiliation.

    “Just go.” My throat is thick, and tears are starting to well. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, I’m going to lose it. And Ireally don’t want him to know that I’m still a basket case. As far as he’s concerned I amso over Blake Atwood.

    “Would you just listen? I thought we could do it—”

    I hold up a hand.“Go!”

    A myriad of expressions play across his face, so fast that I’m unable to catch and latch on to one until his face freezes into neutral and one hand raises in a dismissive fashion. “Fine. I’ll go.”

    “Good.”

    And then he turns, like he can just waltz in here and drop a bombshell any old time. An unexpected burst of anger rips through me and everything just spews out. “You son of a bitch!” I grab the Fig Newton package and toss it at him. It’s too late, though. He’s already gone, and they smash ineffectively against the door.

    I’m a complete emotional mess, and I shatter, too. The tears flood out, warm against my cheeks. Tears for what I could have had with him, and tears for what we’d lost.

    But most of all, they’re tears of anger and frustration. Because our relationship ended onthat show. No warning. No hint that anything about our relationship was bothering him.

    Justboom.

    And now