Ryan: Because she is alive and well. It’s irresponsible to print things that suggest otherwise when there’s absolutely no evidence to back it. But hey, I get it, sensationalism sells.
Spotlight: What would you like to say to Madison in case she’s reading this?
Ryan: I want to tell her that I love her—that I’m sorry for my actions—and when she’s ready to resurface, I hope she’ll find it within herself to give me a second chance.
Aster rolled her eyes and chucked the gossip mag to the other side of her room. He loves her. He’s sorry. It was nothing but lies. But then Ryan was an accomplished liar. Look at all the lies he’d told Aster that she’d been dumb enough to believe.
Well, not anymore.
She shook away the thought and headed inside her walk-in closet, toes sinking into the plush ivory carpet as she tried to decide which of the two new dresses she should wear to the club. Funny how she’d started the week sobbing in the police station parking lot, with an empty wallet and nowhere to go, only to end it ensconced in a swanky penthouse apartment in the W hotel (thanks to Ira Redman, who owned the luxury pad), and her place in the competition intact.
Ira was right. The very thing she thought would lead to her doom ended up being the best thing that had ever happened to her. Sure, her parents still weren’t speaking to her, but she talked to Javen nearly every day, so at least she had that. And while she couldn’t claim complete independence, seeing as she owed her current luxurious lifestyle to the generosity of Ira Redman, and while she wasn’t exactly proud of the events that had spawned her good fortune, there was no denying Madison’s disappearance and Aster’s notoriety were directly responsible for the surge in numbers at all of Ira’s clubs. Not to mention how she’d had her pick of interested agents, who’d already lined up a bunch of interviews and photo shoots.
A far cry from the day she’d left the police station, only to have Ira whisk her into the amazing apartment, where he’d settled her onto the sleek dove-gray leather couch with a cup of green tea while one of his many assistants arranged her belongings in her new room.
“You don’t have to do this,” she’d said, feeling small and overwhelmed in such a luxurious space. The floor-to-ceiling windows provided an amazing view of the city. The furnishings were modern, sleek, and of the highest quality. She could never repay him.
“Of course I don’t.” Ira had claimed the couch just opposite. “But I didn’t get where I am by ignoring opportunities that have been handed to me, and you’re smart and ambitious enough to understand what I mean.”
She’d taken a tentative sip of her tea and waited for him to continue.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it was your ambition, first and foremost, that sent you into Ryan Hawthorne’s arms?”
Aster had folded her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and hung her head in a way that encouraged her hair to fall over her face. More than anything, she wanted to cling to the belief that she’d truly cared about Ryan. She didn’t want to think she’d willingly wasted her virginity on someone who’d cared as little for her as she did for him. But if Ira wasn’t fooled, how much longer could she continue to fool herself?
“He was on the list.” Ira’s voice had remained neutral, just stating the facts as he saw them. It was the first time since the whole mess began that she hadn’t felt the harsh sting of criticism. “And so you were determined to claim him as one of your gets, probably figuring where Ryan goes, Madison follows?”
She’d lifted her shoulders, unfolded her legs. She felt raw, exposed, incapable of hiding the truth. For the first time in days, she was ready to talk. “In the beginning—” She’d snuck a peek at Ira, seeking the strength to continue. “I liked the attention. He liked the attention, or at least he seemed to. But then . . .” She’d reached for her tea, holding the cup between her chest and her chin, trying to summon whatever it was she’d convinced herself she’d felt about Ryan. “I thought he liked me. I truly believed the things that he said.”
“Your first mistake,” Ira had snapped, his entire demeanor displaying a distinct lack of sympathy. “Never, ever believe an actor. They’re always acting. There’s no off switch. You of all people should know that.”
She’d frowned into her cup. “Please, I’m a failed actor.”
“Are you?”
Her gaze met his.
“Or are you just failing yourself?”
Her shoulders had slumped. Her head felt too heavy for her neck to support. It was like whatever force had been holding her together had suddenly vacated, leaving her loose-limbed, limp, and desperately in need of guidance, and who better to direct her than Ira?
“After you finish your tea and pull you
rself together, you’re going to that police station. Failing to make good on your word will only annoy them, and that’s something you don’t want to do. But you won’t go in as an emotional basket case with an overly sensitive tear trigger. You’ll go in with a carefully crafted script that you absolutely will not deviate from. Once that’s behind you, you will lose the victim mentality, stop hiding, and finally recognize your current predicament as the moment you’ve always dreamed of. And don’t even try to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, because we both know you’ve dreamed your whole life of having your picture in the tabloids and your name on everyone’s lips. Maybe it didn’t happen the way you’d envisioned, but now that it’s here, it’s your job to make the most of it. The very thing that makes you ashamed is the very thing that just might make you a star. Night for Night is still going strong, but it’s got less to do with your fellow team member and more to do with the notoriety of all that went down. People love a good scandal, Aster. And, as it happens, you have the starring role in this particular story. Better embrace it, before something else happens and you fade into obscurity.”
She’d hid her face in her hands, massaging her temples with her thumbs and taking a moment to process his words. “Ira, do you have kids?” She’d lifted her gaze to meet his.
He looked amused, but otherwise shook his head.
“That’s too bad. I think you’d make a great dad.”
Before she could finish, he was roaring with laughter. When he’d finally calmed down, he said, “I’m pretty sure that’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me. I’m also sure it’ll be the last. So—” He was back to business again. “You on board? Ready to take control of your life?”
Aster had glanced around the apartment. She could get used to living like that. “Yes,” she said, voice filled with conviction. “I’m all in.”
Ira nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good, so here’s what you’re going to do. . . .” He’d leaned toward her and laid out the plan.
Still, nothing could’ve prepared her for the humiliation of sitting across from that creepy Detective Larsen, struggling not to focus on his leering face, as he’d asked her a series of demeaning questions that, thankfully, the attorney Ira assigned would not let her answer. She’d basically pleaded the Fifth, until Larsen gave up and told her to leave. She shuddered to think what might’ve happened if Ira hadn’t saved her from going alone.